The DeSantis He Can (song)

It’s so nice to finally have my Adobe app back on the PC at home (thank you Evan IT guy for figuring out what was blocking it from re-loading here after my Windows crash a little while ago and also for not wanting to kill me)

So much better to “sing” pieces done in my little studio on a Friday night and then get to come home and relax with the editing and building over a beer or two and a Cricket on a lap and a Bella on a futon, humans, as always, relegated to whatever’s, as opposed to having to do it all there and then get home waaaaay too late.

Anyway, I took my version of Sammy Davis Junior’s “The Candy Man” from last month, The GOP Can, and reworked it for our dear wished new great leader Ron DeSantis.

Oh what a savior he promises to be … in the worst of possible world.

Alright everybody

Gather round DeSantis man is here

Now what kinda country he want?

Ignorant, compliant, revised history, brainwashed

A Fourth Reich?

He’s working on a right plan because only DeSantis can

Who can take agenda (who can take agenda)

Of a fascist POTUS dream (a fascist POTUS dream)

Put it into practice Flor-ida a test run scheme

The Ronnie can (the Ronnie can)

Oooh DeSantis he can (DeSantis he can)

DeSantis he can

Test there his despot plan, prove self a new strongman

Who can make the classroom (who can make the classroom)

A site of culture wars (a site of culture wars)

Make them a battleground to settle whitey grievance scores

The Ronnie can (the Ronnie can)

DeSantis he can (DeSantis he can)

DeSantis projects into classroom learning texts

Indoctrination’s pre-text

And then he just bakes everything at stake

A vision’s cake of normal crumblin’

He’ll make the gays and blacks go runnin’

Applaud him please for his true cunnin’

Ohhhh who can fudge the numbers (who can fudge the numbers) 

Of a shit COVID response (a shit COVID response)

And jackboot whistleblowers who point that out at once

The Ronnie can (the Ronnie can)

Oooh DeSantis he can (DeSantis he can)

Collateral damage was always part of the plan 

No worries if base at hand

And then he put the brakes on election takes

That his was one of real gold standard

Integrity it must be mastered

The big lie being votes true bastard

Yeah Yeah Yeah

Who can add police force (who can add police force)

For this claimed integrity (this claimed integrity)

And have it to intimidate new SS just for he

The Ronnie can (the Ronnie can)

Oooh DeSantis he can (DeSantis he can)

DeSantis he can Democracy it’s not the plan

Fourth Reich new Uncle Sam

DeSantis he can even take a Disney stand

Free speech an also ran

DeSantis can

DeSantis can

DeSantis he caaaannn

DeSantis can

DeSantis can

DeSantis he caaaannn

Alright everybody

That was nice

Break it up now

It’s curfew

Go home

Stay straight

Stay white

Of Spring … (and cats and dogs and dead snakes)

(facebook April 14th)

When I came home yesterday Bella was in her usual spot, on her comforter bed in the living room (shut up … yes, she has her own comforter and apparently she called in housekeeping while I was out to have them turn it down).

This is one of her two spots, the other being on a folded blanket on the futon dresser/done dryer hamper dump spot in the bedroom, and she was in one or the other all winter … until this morning.

I turned off the heat yesterday evening and this morning before I left, I pulled back the blanket (part of the crack house chic collection) that covers the bedroom window looking out over the front yard and driveway and that has a cat seat of hers, one she hasn’t used since last Fall, and I opened it up.

She was back in that window seat quicker than in a flat eared wide eyed mad crazed cat ghost sprint and I could see her still in that spot as I drove up the hill tonight.

Ahhhhh Spring …

(WTF dude!? I finally have my seat and open window back and the first thing I’m looking at is a dog!? A freakin’ dog!? One of those slobbery not cat things from downstairs!? Seriously dude, WTF!?)

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(facebook April 15th)

Stopped at PetSmart on the way home tonight because, well, ya know, pets, I got ‘em, so it’s a store that fills needs, to see if they had some of the Fancy Feast “Savory Centers” which I have been lax on re-filling our supply of recently here in Frankenland, lax for the doldrums of cold and just not really wanting to stop and get out of the car as there are plenty of backup of other choices, but that is something, “other choices”, that is none too subtly pointed out to me to be entirely unacceptable with quick snap head turn southern belle-esque dismissive “huffs” (Bella) or immediate swipe-swipe, drag-drag “buryings” (Cricket) of anything else I bowl in front of them from the winter’s stock, even things formerly eagerly lapped at (I think I’ve created a new sad addiction story of “centers heads” like I’m some sort of pusher now).

While I was there though, grabbing two boxes of the “Savory Centers” variety 12 pack, I was taken aback by a sticker on the Fancy Feast shelf of a deal that I couldn’t believe was actually real, especially as PetSmart can be a bit expensive. I mean how did someone in marketing not lose a job over practically giving away the store like this?

I was so torn on the 24-47 can savings or the even more remarkable 48 or more can savings that I just stood there in disbelief as I tried to figure out the math of this possible good fortune in my head (never a good thing that math in the head by the way, decimal points can so easily go awry and can even make ya dizzy).

I also had to consider the “must act now!” nature of this deal as it had a deadline. Would I kick myself for not taking advantage of what was almost a flat out giveaway if I didn’t indeed “must act now!” before May 1st?

Sigh, such a quandary.

But alas, I couldn’t realize these phenomenal savings as none of the possible bulk buy cans were of the cat crack of “Savory Centers” for future broken cat sad stories to be told another time in “centers heads” dark street back alleyways documentaries, just the regular cans of Fancy Feast choices that get huffed at or buried these days.

No, I had to continue being the pusher.

The savory centers pusher.

I’m not proud of it.

But man, if only those pennies …

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Tappy tappy tappy stop … tappy tappy tappy stop … over my head, a pitter patter of paws a runnin’ and a stoppin’.

Runnin’? Finally a window down the way opened as paws rejoiced … stoppin’? Only if someone looks up and notices, a comic pause. I’ve been waiting for this and to hark back to the Cat Publication reviews of the play Cat On A Cold Tile Roof and the follow up post Cat On A Cold Tile Roof Too again as I just think they’re funny. I get no greater joy or comfort than to hear cats stepping, running on/over my head. Finally. And I mean that.

(Florida and Handsome from few years ago above my bedroom)

One of my favorite pics of this place, Florida and a “What?” … it just makes me laugh

This is Spring.

Bella getting her window back, Cricket the Blind the same in head loll breezes, rolling down some windows and not minding getting out of the car …

… and some of the Celie gang out her bedroom window to run the place and remind that we circle and eventually come out of the cold … and with no “untils”, not just yet.

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As part of this tappy tappy tappy stop, I get visitors outside the living room I never living room in, have never even really sat in, it’s Bella’s room, my windows there existing only for the pretty view down the driveway and the fenced in cow field running along it and the horse fenced field at the bottom or the developmented small Poughkeepsie hills in the distance that look so cozy at night, a Bella chair or cat tower or for just this, the sighting of hello’s outside my dust, every turn Spring, from fur that find me brand new, momentarily, on rooftops even though they know me.

Today was Loki, the snake killer, killing Celie in her Indiana Jones-like hating snakes screams of found Loki Spring surprises in her living room, while he lounged self satisfied cleaning himself next to his kill. He is the handsomest of cat, even more handsome than Handsome who is named Handsome for a reason (refer to link to Cat On A Cold Tile Roof Too from above – just try not to be himpmotized when you do).

He poked his head up outside that living room window, and was surprised, as all the others are, for a moment, until he realized it was just me while saying “Hey, I know you right?”

Bella even hopped up and gave him a check, ears spot.

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Celie came home earlier right after I had gone downstairs to get something from the car and for a fur head check, no real reason, just a me wanting to count names and look in and she said “It’s finally kinda nice out there”

“I know, not quite as nice as yesterday, a little damp, but I’ll take it”

“Me too”

“Had a visit from Loki outside my window earlier”

“Did he bring you a dead snake?”

“Not yet”

“Give him time … freakin’ killer”

Angel Of Death: End Of Days, Route 9, Poughkeepsie???

(and a guy dressed as the Grim Reaper with an hourglass in the middle of route 9 leads …)

So I saw the Angel of Death tonight … on Route 9 in Poughkeepsie standing on the median between the North and South triple lanes, at a traffic light, near a T.G.I. Friday’s and a Mattress Firm and across from a new specialty soap shop, a new Sleep Number Bed place and a convenience store among a number of other spots.

Tall guy dressed as you might expect of an Angel of Death/Grim Reaper type. Long black robe, oversized hood and he was pointing at things, menacingly, possibly specialty soaps and he seemed like he might even have been yelling though I couldn’t really hear as I passed him amid that damned rock n roll I was playing too loudly on a nice sunny almost Spring evening, finally, one you surely wouldn’t expect the end of days to arrive on, at least you’d hope not, though I’m afraid my Mom might feel vindicated now all these years later of her worries of, when I was younger, while I was playing that damned rock and roll too loudly back then as well and cutting up perfectly good heavy metal band concert T-shirts to have her sew them on the back of denim jackets, that some might think the end of days would sneak up on me because I wouldn’t hear it/them coming.

The only thing out of the ordinary for this particular Angel of Death though was that he was carrying an hourglass. Not that Angels of Death don’t sometimes carry hourglasses, they do, I’ve seen artist renderings, some pretty cool artist renderings, but this was in lieu of the tall, sharp, pointy, violent looking scythe’s we’ve more come to expect in a clichéd Angel of Death kinda way which, truth be told, is probably for the best in this day and age that that wasn’t what he was carrying (unless it fits with some want of a scythe political agenda).

Tall, sharp, pointy violent looking clichéd scythe’s? Yeah, that’ll getcha noticed, and not in a good way, and possibly even get ya tased or worse. Hourglass? Much less threatening.

I did though think, if I could have, that I would have politely pointed out that this hourglass of his was a little small, comically so actually, not really of a size befitting his stature or one to really get him noticed in the middle of a busy roadway here in Poughkeepsie, and right at the height of an evening rush hour with people being lost in thoughts of get homes and dinners and dog walkings and sweatpants and checkings in on that show that you’re pretty sure your better half cheated on and watched the next episode of without you, again, and conversations/angers left open ended the night before.

I would have pointed out that he needed something a bit more dramatic, more theatrical, something oversized to really catch that thought lost eye. The hourglass he had was, well, a little on the Spinal Tappy Stonehenge side but with him being the Angel of Death an all, I would have been as deferential and as delicate as I could with this observation (plus, he most probably still had that clichéd scythe somewhere in reserve – and that shit looks like it would hurt … a lot, like in a death kind of way).

Now was there any reason, I thought, any significance to this specific spot of his as I drove past? I don’t know. Was this where the thunders and the lightnings, the great fires or floods, or great fires followed by floods to drown out great fires making people tread water in floaties the only thing they had at hand, damn the children, the pestilences and rivers of blood were newly ordained to happen, or was he just waiting on a pick up order from that T.G.I. Friday’s and doing what Angels of Death do to pass the time, what little time may be left?

Had he been maybe having some trouble sleeping recently (certainly possible as carrying the weight of his message has gotta be a heavy sleepless nights kinda burden) thus reason to be in between a Mattress Firm and a Sleep Number Bed store or was he really pointing menacingly at specialty soaps, a could be 21st century haven of witchcraft with all the witch-like curatives some of the soaps and maybe oils and creams inside can surely promise … plus Hell, you know there’s gotta be a crystal or two hanging in there somewhere right? Or maybe he was just waiting to cross the highway way to get to the convenience store for a pack of smokes thinking to his Death self, well, if I’m bringing word of the end of the world to the peoples, I might as well smoke up while I can.

I don’t know. Whatever the reason was for that location or whatever the reason wasn’t, all I really thought on my way home after passing this Angel of Death fella with his too small hourglass (you just need a big black sports hearse car to compensate my not friend) was “listen, if this is it tonight big guy, if this is the end of days, after you’ve possibly picked up your order at T.G.I. Friday’s could you …

“Hi, can I help you sir?”

“I’m here for a pick-up”

“Your name?”

“Angel”

“Angel? Hold on … I’m sorry I’m not seeing that here for our pick-up orders right now”

“You sure … nothing under the name Angel? With an A?”

“I can spell Angel sir, thank you, and sorry, but no … could you have ordered under a different name?”

“Oh wait, you know what, I may have. Do you have one under the name Death?”

“Death … Death … Death … sorry busy night … hold on … oh, here we go … Death … burger, blood rare, locusts, frogs, extra cheese, fries and the apple cobbler dessert special?”

“Yep, that’s me. Sorry, I don’t usually use the last name, way too formal and can be a little off-putting”

“No worries Sir. Let me get that for you, Oh, and by the way? Cool hood”

“Oh, well thank you so much”

“I would say though, if you don’t mind a little constructive criticism, that you get a slightly larger hourglass”

… and could you, after you’ve put a deposit down on a new bed …

“You’ll be so happy you chose our little slice of sleep heaven … (stop short silent stare) … sorry, my bad … probably not the best of selling points for you I’m thinking now … you’ll be so happy you chose our bed Mr. Death instead of something that feels like a bed of nails like from those sleep hacks across the street …”

“They have something that feels like a bed of nails?”

“What?”

“Bed of nails, those sleep hacks across the street have something that feels like a bed of nails?”

“Ummm, well yeah, that’s what we say … Ok, but hold on, I got ya. If you’d like, Jimmy, one of our delivery drivers, works at a small local hardware store and I’m sure we could throw in a bag of nails, support small business right, that you can toss on the bed, like scattering rose petals for you and the Missus …”

“There’s no Missus … I’m Death. It would make holiday family get togethers very uncomfortable.”

“Ok, well, bag of nails just for YOU it is”

… and then after checking in on potential modern day witches …

“Do you have a soap or some oils that can just ease some tension, possibly transport me away to a better place? I think I’ve seen a commercial like that”

“Why of course sir”

“A place like  … HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Ummmmmmm, well … (glancing over at a crystal)”

“Gotcha!!” …

… and after you’ve a grabbed a smoke outside the Exxon while getting yelled at for your loitering could you at least let me feed the cats and have my dinner and maybe clean a litter box or two? I would SOOOOOO hate to have to face the end of days, you know, the rapture or something, even if you all do the rapture, I’m not sure, or some sort of reckoning, with messy litter boxes and on an empty stomach.

“Will do”

Thanks.

Last Fancy Feast “Savory Centers” girls.

Eat up. Quickly. I don’t know what kind of deadline he’s facing.