Shoes’s Chair

Write what’s in front of you.

Quite a while ago, years now, I thought to buy a new chair for my PC, a new computer chair, a place where I spend so much time escaping and then fashioning thoughts, ideas, words strung and even sometimes sung together. This was before my tunes though and before the place I live at now with all the glorious madness of assorted fur and feather. It was my first place back on my own, a place and thing that suits me better however much lonely that might sound. But the always PC chair was his, the one with a thin Steelers blanket (man, that blanket could use a turn in the washer then … and now). Then Shoes passed away not too long into this new stay and got me to words on his chair at this passing and even enlightened me to wonder but it became a tough sit then without that reminder and any past remembered funny talk to your cat argument (he was only somewhat a lap cat so the chair couldn’t really be shared for too long, it was a he or me, though he was Ok with just laying in front of the keyboard, or somewhere on my desk, once I plopped him down away from his chair, like Mimi the Quirky now).

Shoes on the keyboard

Mimi on Mouse 1

So I thought to buy something new as according to an ad I’d heard from Staples (I do radio, and no matter how much I may try to ignore ads simply to know I have, on the internet especially, some still seep through). I even enlisted a friend for the assist. I don’t know why but it just seemed that I should. It was unnecessary, but maybe I could claim I might need help to the car? Really, it was just an attempt at a normalcy, or something close, that I had just left, most of the leaving of my own accord mind you, but an attempt. A partner to guide me on something that really needed no guiding. It was just a chair. But the company was nice. Really nice.

Simple buying of things is easy as a single guy, the only list you have is your own, but buying a new chair, a not Shoes chair, seemed a major purchase to me as my paycheck belied so Beth came along to make sure I got it right. Though, like I said, it wasn’t really necessary but then again I’m remembering buying a chair with her in tow so it obviously was. Friends.

It’s got a tall back, is somewhat plush compared to the Shoes’s chair non-plush short hard back, allows me to lean with a rested head, sometimes even to accidentally nod off like that suburban scene where the kids tell mom “He’s asleep” after her annoyance of repeated calls being ignored.

It’s cat scratched now, really cat scratched, pockmarked and torn with too many claw points to count and I drape it with that one solitary sheet from a set of sheets that is no longer a set but you’re damned to remember where the rest of it went or even to question if you ever had the full set in the first place.  The faux whatever it is, that attempt at “leather” maybe, is cold and plastic so the sheet helps for the comfort, but the tall head is the selling point. Plastic feel or not, it still has a comfy enough fill for that lean.

After putting it together in that first little place on my own again, feeling all industrious with the following of the directions I was so proud to not need eventually, and with only a couple of pieces left over (maybe that’s that bit of halt on the turn and I should have paid more direction attention) I thought of tossing Shoes’s chair, not just the toss of a sad reminder but because who needs two computer chairs? Right?

But the right reminders should never get tossed, no lame justification at the thought.

Shoey, your computer chair is still here, it’s the preferred chair of any of the girls and mine, hard backed and short head it may be, not much lean, and still with your thin Steelers blanket covering it, one still always in need of a wash that I never remember to grab in my weekly throw of extra shit in the hamper.

But it’s still here.

I mean, who can’t use two computer chairs? Right?

That “new” chair has always been just a backup my friend. Miss ya kid.

Shoes's chair pic

Shoes's chair

Shoes's chair 2

The Frankenberry Synchronized Cat Laying Team: Bella Joins Forces

Recently I posted of the Frankenberry Synchronized Cat Laying team training for the Feline Olympics and of Cricket the Blind and Mimi the Quirky being celebrated members of it, well actually, the only members of it but still renowned within cat laying circles for their perfectly in sync almost effortless laying techniques.

Mimi & Cricket synchronized laying

“They just make it seem so easy” said Captain Marmalade of team Lay Like Ya Lazy “like they could just lay down at any moment right in tandem without even a single signal to each other. It’s almost unfair … the skill”

Well, Little Bella, who qualified in boxing baseball cap brims for the games thought to expand her repertoire and add to this renown of Miss Cricket and the Memes, by joining them to try and help pull off the difficult and sometimes even dangerous “Triple Lay”

“I saw that attempted once … Duluth, at the semi’s …” marveled Fluffernutter (Fluff for short – or Nutter depending on weird cat shit) who’s We Cra-Cra for the Lay-Lay team placed in those semi’s “… but it was a disaster, especially for Sir Meowalot. I remember it like it was yesterday whenever that was. Meowalot’s team All Day Cat Lay had really been laying a clinic for all of us but then he and Snowball and Ms Whiska made the triple attempt. You could tell they were off from the start. Could it have been that errant red dot when one of the crowd accidentally dropped their laser pointer and it went off? Sure. Or that distant sound of a can of food being cracked backstage right at that very moment? Yeah, it’s possible. But whatever it was they just weren’t right.

Snowball circled left, Ms Whiska right but not quite in rhythm, not together and poor Sir Meowalot got confused. He was supposed to just stay in the middle, be the balance, but he instead tried to go both right AND left, screwed himself all up and got a claw stuck in the carpet of the laying field. Then he just sat there with his stuck twisted claw while looking plaintively for help … painful to watch … especially when his human was slow to assist. The Cat Laying governing committee has since changed the laying field rules from exclusively carpet to an option of hardwood. It’s why team Frankenberry is so good and has such an advantage, they have the perfect training facility. I’m envious of that. Our carpeted training site is always being menaced … something about cat hair … by some noisy loud angry monster that sucks the quiet right out of the room and makes me hide under the couch. Apparently, Team Frankenberry’s training site only requires a kinder non-monster quiet sweep thing on a stick, though that’s gotta be difficult to try and hold yourself back from nosing the pile”

So, Team Frankenberry trains, Cricket the Blind, Mimi the Quirky and now Little Bella hoping to achieve glory at these upcoming games. Can they pull of the “Triple Lay” under the pressure of a crowd taking non-stop pictures or talking annoying baby talk pet-style or possible errant red laser dots (or even intentional ones – damned Russian cat teams) and maybe even dinner being served backstage?

We’ll just have to see.

Training though, is going well.

Synchonized Cat Laying Team w Bella

We Let Billy Drive The Car (song)

Ok, so this is taking what a friend said about writing something original, not that my parody tunes, lyrically, aren’t original, those are my angry though tuneful editorials but with thoughts and angers that are already written, in some regard, in the current news and it’s Orange lunacy. But something other than that.

So an experiment then to see if I could put some words that were in my head about a little heist gone awry to an instrumental of a tune I didn’t know. It just had to be fast, to go with the slightly manic idea that was rattling around up there.

Moved in fast

Wanted to grab cash

Had an inside

Point us to the stash

All gassed up

Had some cool masks

Famous baddies from

Old time gangster flicks

I was Cagney

Tommy was Edward G

No weapons though

Way too much the risk

Just a bluff

And the fear that goes with

Work the room posing threats

Now that’s biz

Grab the loot scoot

Back door left ajar

Plan was ticking

Like a really expensive watch

Into the alley

Out of sight of cops

Billy couldn’t be far … right?

“Hey, where’s Billy?”

“I don’t know man”

“but he knew the plan, we practiced, He knew this alley”

“I told you we shouldn’t let Billy the drive the car”

“hey, you agreed man!”

“I had no choice, he’s your brother and I ain’t pissin’ off your mother”

Why’d we let Billy Drive the car

Mom always said he wouldn’t go very far

I wanted to just prove her really wrong

Was always singin’ the same ol’ tired song

Told her the plan no guns and just commands

Protect Billy In the best way that we can

Give him the wheel and just wait out the plan

We lit on foot then

Tommy and me we ran

Plan had been rocking

But now we’re on the lam

With nothing even resembling a plan

Other than shucking and really ducking now

Hidin’ round corners

And peakin’ round some bends

Trying keep the coppers

From their ends

Cursing Billy to the hell he will attend

All in my head while we ran and ran and ran

Just tryin’ not to end up in the can

At least that’s if we had another plan

Why’d we let Billy Drive the car

Mom always said he wouldn’t go very far

I wanted prove her to be really wrong

Was always singin’ the same ol’ tired song

Told her the plan no guns and just commands

Protect Billy In the best way that we can

Give him the wheel and just wait out the plan

We shouldn’t have let Billy drive the car

Tommy said that we wouldn’t go very far

Except the slammer that’s just right up the state

But poor Billy he just could never rate

To the ones who always judged the most

A lost cause on their paper notes

He’s the one they say see ya later to

And I had no couch for that

“Oh shit Tommy, tell me that can’t …”

“I don’t know man …  I don’t wanna think about it”

“Billy, where you been?”

You were so right to let me drive the car

Coppers been sent a little way out far

Tripped an alarm at a different spot

An inside knew a perfect wild goose

At your plans on your wrist’s spot

Ticking along with your planned depart

I waited knowing just where your legs would stop

We were so right to let Billy drive the car

Tossed our masks and cash into the back

Cagney and Edward G they’d be so proud

And ode to gangster’s legends of the old

A new chapter maybe in that gangster ode

Of Tommy and me a new story be told

A one to finally make my momma proud

Of when we let Bill-lee drive the car

Of when we let Billy drive the car


One of the lessons I learned in college, one that has stayed with me, with my poetry then in those angst filled and overly dramatic days, though I haven’t been poetic in quite some time, is write of what may be just right in front of you, even if it’s just a thing.

Wrote one years ago of my Dad’s cracked coffee mug. It was a simple well worn and cracked coffee mug but it was his, had his imprint, marbled brown and warm even before being filled and it sat on the kitchen counter every night waiting for the start of another his day. I’m sure he would have loved to take it with him, probably tried to on messy lap irritation occasion, maybe that’s where the crack from, a time before our now covered easy tumblers. But the writing of that mug and that simplicity opened a world of words for me. Just write what’s in front of you.

A just a thing? Why not? No imagining your words greater than they are. I’d like to think that that “just what’s in front of you” is reflected in some of what have done since. I try, often, only to write of simple well worn and cracked coffee mugs.


Just a thing.

I have a clock, an actual one, not for decoration, that sits on the wall above my PC, a Pittsburgh Pirates one not surprisingly, but it’s always gaining time forcing me to constantly adjust to what the hell the real time may be. It was just 10 minutes not too long ago but now sits at around 23. Could I get the time with a phone check, sure, always exact, could I just grab the clock off my wall and change it, again sure, but there is something about this real clock that gains time, that reminds me of imperfections as they are reality plus that adjustment keeps me on my toes, especially when, early mornings, I shine a flashlight on it and have to do a little imperfection’s math.

It’s one of the first things I remember about Mom and Dad and a trying to teach me of stuff, back when clocks were something you looked to to give you reference to when you were. “Stephen … the small hand is here, the big hand is there …”

I can never look at a clock without a thought of Mom and Dad.

Those are the best of thoughts.

Just a thing huh?

The Jonna Show Theme Song

So I record a show with two friends, have now going on, I don’t know, close to 10 years I think, minus a couple when I was let go at one group of radio stations and then picked up at another, “Happy Hour”. It’s Jonna Spilbor, you may know her, a regular contributor on Fox News and other shows as a legal expert and Keryl Pesce an author of two self empowerment books and the boss lady of a small publisher, The Little Pink Press, that helps others get their thoughts out there. A thank you for them. They are two of the most wonderful and whip smart women I have ever known. Ahhh, if only to live up to that wit and humor, something, I’m afraid, I often can’t keep with on the show, but …

Jonna, whose stories of mishaps and annoyances are a regular part of the fun, is having her house renovated. So we thought it would be funny for me to come up with a little intro/sting jingle type thing to lead into whatever her latest story of misadventure might be, a something I can do. This renovation has had her move back in with her Mom and Dad for the moment. Sounds almost like being kid again right, just out of college? Except none of us are kids so this situation is ripe with possible comedy and I don’t think she can get back on her parent’s insurance now.

Well, the little intro/sting thing wasn’t enough for me. If I can’t keep up in the show I do have other things I can do, so I searched out “sitcom” this past Friday afternoon at our production music site, a wealth of good choices, but found the best of these sitcomy beds for just what was in my head. A few words later that afternoon, some ‘singing’ in my little studio after everyone had thankfully left for the weekend (other than time spent at the house with my furry girls it’s my favorite of moments) and then back home to build. I came up with this.

The theme song for the Jonna Show.

Gotta have a bit of fun if you can right?


Jonna’s back home after years on her own

Nance & John happy after their bird had flown

Back in her old room

posters still up

Of boys that were a cause to just swoon

Cassidy brothers, David and Shawn, Travolta and even Scott Baio too


Jonna’s back home her own house is a mess

Remodeling disarray causing much stress (scream)

She thought then move back with the rents

Temporary sure but with Momma food scents

She’ll just need remember live when in Rome

But what could go wrong with moving back home?


They’d of course get along

Her single habits they wouldn’t grow long

No Jonna wardrobe mishaps would occur

her raccoons though they will miss her


Nance won’t ask of margarita again

Or glasses of wine where she never says when

Or helping with the garbage

But in outfits to send

Young boys round the bend  


Jonna’s back home after years on her own

Nance & John happy after their bird had flown

Jonna’s thankful to avoid all the stress

Of that house of hers being a mess

And timelines that will most surely get stretched (scream)


Nance & John won’t now be alone

Cause their Jonna, she’s back home!

Slow Vistas

In my commute to work, which includes a route 9 that those in the Hudson Valley Poughkeepsie area here know well and loathe I do my best to skirt as much of it as possible and even Route 9D, which is part of the run. I hop on a road that goes behind the Mall parallel but away from this Route 9 at the first chance it affords. It’s not a short cut, probably adds a minute or two actually, but it allows me to wind my may slowly through suburbia avoiding all of the traffic lights and the stop starts that brings and avoid all the possible stupid of a busy roadway and morning commute rushers. Though, not shorter it is definitely more serene and quiet, less choked … and it’s pretty. I like that quiet and that pretty. I’m not going to start days idiot stressed if I can get around it right? It also takes me past a little neighborhood deli, a genuine one, the Channingvile Deli, a one that actually sits right in the middle of a neighborhood. I’m not quite a “Norm!” there but they know me, even the owner gives a nod. They offer me smiles when I walk in, say “Hi” with recognition, start conversation, make laughter and know of what just might be on “today’s order” agenda. I’m pretty predictable and they know this predictable. There’s a joy and a comfort in that.

Or I order early these days, from my phone while traveling this dreaded Route 9 and it’s forest of traffic lights so I can just mask, pay and roll, no possibly waiting with people, a product of the times. Sometimes a bologna and cheddar, depending on the wallet or the number of beers I had the night before, with spicy mustard and banana peppers for a face wake, plus it’s the perfect heavy to hit the belly like the necessary post beer brick fill up it needs to be or maybe a simple Steve classic of Turkey and Roast beef and Swiss with tomato and Mayo and a little salt and pepper. But with either order they know that it’s me, though I’ve been told my voice can give me away.

Then there is a second “shortcut” in the ride, also not really a shortcut, but one that helps avoid a bit of that next step, Route 9D, and a one that provides the most beautiful of vistas. The first time I took it it was more a just this shit has to come out somewhere I recognize huh? A suburban exploring of possible options. I don’t often take this extra stray off the main path in the morning, no beautiful vistas can be appreciated on the way to work, but I definitely take it on the way home as it’s another serene and quiet alternative, if only for a couple of miles, but it has one feature that I look forward to on a daily basis after a lot of days that could use just such a thing. It has a sort of “rollercoaster” hill, a long upward climb up a not too drastic but steady incline where you can almost hear an old coaster’s ‘clack-clack-clack’ to a last short, steeper rise to the top, and, after putting BB in neutral as I have just enough speed, I allow the ‘clack-clack-clack’ to take me the rest of the way, I even lean forward as if to look over the edge ahead of reaching it and get ready for the silly arms up in the air and then … the most magnificent view of the Hudson and the hills across it (where we live here in this Dutchess County area, the Hudson River is a constant).

It’s a want to stop moment, a breathtaking scenic overlook on a road trip, a break out the camera with a loved one for it as the background, a moment to take that breath. It’s only just seconds before, with BB still in neutral, I head down the now much steeper decline on the other side (noting my breaks might be an issue soon). But there is a top of the world feel to that peak that is hard to describe, though I try here, poorly. There are also the majestic lawns on the down. Though I don’t have any shots of that vista from the top, not all that safe on a blind rollercoaster hill to just stop right there, I do have a few of these wonderful perfectly manicured lawns that roll quietly just to my left with BB’s neutral glide. Don’t know what they are a part of, of what manor, but they give me eyed pause in this glide. A bit easier to pull over for a moment a few feet down from that roller coaster’s blind.

Slow Vista lawn #3

Slow Vista lawn #2

I see an elephant in this center rock by the way. Or maybe it’s his mouse.

I’ll pass him or he will pass me, a coworker, before my detour while he continues on 9 and he’ll mention later that he got to work before me, a sort of game to prove the validity of your commute choices. A one I don’t play. I will gladly lose every time. I will gladly take to the views and rules of suburbia, if only for a bit, a slow ride’s moment before another day. Remember my own suburbia, Mom and Dad, Beck and Nick, where I wished, even as a kid, that people would just slow down and not just because of our outdoor roaming cats. Just a please slow.

I’ll always take and enjoy suburbia’s pretty and comfortable laze when I can, no matter where I may find myself, while minding cars backing, maybe early morning children lacking sight, pets who might alight, squirrels who take quick sprint flight … and mind perfect vistas and rolling lawns at the top of and then down of a roller coaster hill’s height when a day is done.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason and Tyranny – Ep #16: “The Appointment”

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Protests & Other Stuff Haters Club)

Been a while for a trip to the Trump Treehouse with Trump and his trusty man servant Benfred

(an echo in a hall)

Donnie: Hello? Hello? Supreme here? Hello?

(Benfred right on his hip)

Benfred: Yes sir?

Donnie: (with a start) Whoa, Jesus Benfred!! Don’t sneak up on me like that!!

Benfred: I didn’t sneak up on you

Donnie: What?!

Benfred: I didn’t sneak up on you

Donnie: Yes you did. I was calling for you, you weren’t there and then BOOM! Kind of classic sneaking up

Benfred: No, I’ve been here the whole time

Donnie: Since when? I haven’t heard from you in months … which is good by the way, too much stuff they could ask the only black guy in this cabinet. Cabinet. That’s funny. Sounds like you’re a plate or a dish. Just checkin’ the cabinet for a …

Benfred: Am I missing something?

Donnie: You don’t know?

Benfred: Know what sir?

Donnie: Really?

Benfred: No, what sir?

Donnie: All the chaos caused by you all, getting in the way of bullets, putting your heads under knees, the rioting, thinking you matter, the un … un … something about resting but not.

Benfred: Unrest?

Donnie: Yes that’s it, un … what is that again?

Benfred: Unrest sir.

Donnie: Where have you been during all of this un … stuff?

Benfred: I’ve been right here in the treehouse.

Donnie: Doing what? I haven’t seen you, though you are fairly invisible to me for the most part.

Benfred: Doing mostly nothing other than being unqualified, like Betsy, and keeping my brethren down but you won’t find a speck of dust.

Donnie: Really?

Benfred: Really.

Donnie: So if I white glove this I won’t find anything?

Benfred: Not a speck. Though the white gloves are kind of my thing

Donnie: I know, just a figure of … of … a figure of … little help here

Benfred: Speech?

Donnie:  Yes that’s it. Speech. Don’t know why I find that one so difficult.  Ok, good, I’ll trust ya … after I check the silverware of course

Benfred: Of course. You have an appointment at 3 by the way

Donnie: You’re keeping my calendar now?

Benfred: Yes, just for today though. Meadows does a fine job other than trying to destroy us all but sometimes he gets a little ummm, distracted.

Donnie: Distracted?

Benfred: Yeh, he’s quite attuned to your ass and that throws him off.

Donnie: Understood. I like those type though. And I do have a fine ass. Remind me to call Lindsey. What about Kayleigh? She couldn’t keep my appointments?

Benfred: Something about Kool Aid and needing a tumbler so I just thought I’d calendar for you myself, just in case.

Donnie: Thank you Benfred, you’re a good one

Benfred: Thank you sir

Donnie: So, who is my 3?

Benfred: You don’t remember? It’s kinda big

Donnie: I’m supposed to remember things?

Treehouse doorbell

Benfred: Oh, hold on I’ll get that … Bill how are you?

Willliam the Low Barr:  Bill?

Benfred: Sorry, my bad. Sir William how are you?

Willliam the Low Barr:  Better. You know I’m the law right?

Benfred: Yes sir, hands up and open.

Willliam the Low Barr:  Good, though that doesn’t always work in your favor. Remember that. Even in your bed sleeping.

Benfred: Thank you sir.

Willliam the Low Barr: Where’s the big guy?

Benfred: (walking forward) he should still be in the sunroom.

Willliam the Low Barr: (following) Tending his plants I assume?

Benfred: Ahhh, you know how he loves his flowers

Willliam the Low Barr:  I do. So pretty

(reaching the sunroom)

Donnie: C’mon dirt! You’re supposed to make this stuff grow for Christ’s sake!!

Benfred: I’ll get some water. Bill is …

Willliam the Low Barr: (glare)

Benfred: … Sir Willliam the Low Barr is here.

Donnie: Oh, Hi Bill. Damned things, and I was gonna pluck them eventually for Melania and maybe hold her hand. Just dust. Are you my 3?

Willliam the Low Barr: You have a 3?

Donnie: Apparently

Willliam the Low Barr:  Who is that?

Donnie: No idea … hey, Benfred, who is my 3?

Benfred: Hold on sir.

Donnie: No, right now Benfred. What’s that water gonna do? Drop it!

Benfred: Sorry sir, useless water … my bad.

Donnie: Who is my 3?

Benfred: I can’t believe you don’t remember.

Willliam the Low Barr: Hey, careful, you’re sounding a little uppity.

Benfred: I can’t believe you don’t remember … sir.

Willliam the Low Barr: Better

Donnie: Remind me Benfred. Seems my actual calendar keepers are busy doing other things … hey that tickles.

Benfred: It’s Vlad. We set this up a while ago while he was trying to destabilize but we cleared a 3 for today. He wants to make sure you’re on his page again as we get closer to this election. Something about making sure he’s still got his hand inside your back.

Donnie: Oh, you were right Benfred, this IS a big one. Hey, did you send him a thank you, some of Melania’s flowers, for the nesting dolls? You know, the ones of all him and me being the final tiny one? That shit is so cute.

Benfred: I did, but he didn’t get back.

Donnie: That’s alright, busy guy, trying to rule the world an all.

Willliam the Low Barr: It’s almost 3, ya want me tear gas this guy or knee on his neck? Get him out of the way?

Benfred: Hey, I can just leave the room

Donnie: No, not today Bill. Yeh, take off Benfred. Don’t need a guy of your ummm  … help me out Ben.

Benfred: Stature?

Donnie: Stature. Yeh sure, stature. Though that word is a bit much. And I know words. Too much importance.

Benfred: I’m with ya, too much

Donnie: How do I look?

Willliam the Low Barr: Orange and imposing.

Donnie: HeHe, got that tickle again. Perfect. Though I will hike my pants up a bit. Got this thing going on midriff … (pointing) right about here

Willliam the Low Barr: (head turned) ‘nuff said sir