Month: March 2024

The cable was out last night for a short period so I spent a portion of my evening listening to some old song parodies of mine and impressing myself.

“Really?”

“What?”

“Have you ever heard of humility”

“Hey, it’s a little early for that, temps are still a bit cool ’round here”

“(sigh) You’re an idiot”

“Skills my friend … skills”

Anyway (and deja vu) from back when I was doing almost exclusively Beatles covers in my early parodies and a one that still works, as if it were current, 5 years later and a still stark reminder.

Tricking the Whole

(to The Beatles “Fixing A Hole”)

I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King

To keep their minds from wondering

What the truth knows

.

I’m filling the gaps marking all that I say

With prop-a-ganda being way

To sell truth now

.

And it’s really heady matter for elites I lie

For a fake press I lie

The haters cry

.

But see my dog base blinding there who loyally lap at my feet

Never finding truth crumbs on the floor

.

I’m painting bona fide in a red white and blue

My fingers make confusing swirls

Till you let go

Oooh Oooh Oooh Ahh Ahh

(succumb you will in time)

Hey Hey Hey … Hey

.

And hey batter batter batter

Swing and miss my man, can’t hit this pitch you can’t

Not this big spin

.

I’m on the mound base is the crowd

They pay no mind they are fact free

See how they’re wowed by my huge back door curve

.

I never take time to study the things that were important yesterday

They don’t matter now

Oooh Oooh Oooh Ahh Ahh

Hey Hey

.

I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King

It gets my mind to wandering ’bout new royals Ohhhh

Who we could own owwwwnnn

.

I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King

My mind is always floundering

In a dark hole … in a dark whole

A new dVerse poets prompt of cherry blossoms

She smelled of cherry blossoms in our walks to a point of hanging in her wake

“Hey, what are you doing? Keep up”

“Sorry” I would say but still keeping a half step behind claiming whatever might mind for that halted step and scent carried my way in her draft

I know she only kept me for notice, as I am not a find, most surely not, but a body for Moms and Dads and Sisters and Brothers and Company to present to, temporarily, in overstuffed dining rooms at Spring get togethers until cherry blossoms fade

But, for just a moment, she was a cherry’s flower petals that petaled on me

So Then Sunday

From back in early December. To R.E.M.’s “Don’t Go Back To Rockville”

Another tune that says stuff

//////////////////////////////////////////

Don’t Go Back To Trumpville

Looking at old hell a new time

Wonderin’ what we’ve done to be so cursed

In the possibility that

The Orange Devil could usher somethin’ worse

Only this time with an even darker promise

With vengeance in his blackened heart

.

He’ll persecute and prosecute

The order of which won’t matter when he’s done

Retribution will be his rally cry

To punish one and all  

And any who don’t comply

And offer fealty on bended knee

With bowed heads kissed rings even fresh lipstick

.

Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
And waste Democracy

.

At night he drinks himself to sleep

Of despot dreams jack booting in his head

He envies Xi and surely Vlad

Even Benito and now new Nazi Klan

Who find in him their great leader to follow

With violence waiting on a call

.

Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
And waste our future years

.

Some though feel that there’s no need to worry

Head in sand they see no real ur-gency

But anyone who’s not head under ground knows the danger that is found

In another orange presidency

It’s not the way to protect our liberty

And our too weak now Democracy

.

Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
And waste our future years

.

Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
And waste Democracy

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So my “new” not new but still new enough to me new car, a 2013 Nissan Juke, has a few bells and whistles that BB, my pretty recently totaled 2008 Toyota Scion XB, didn’t have though it does share a few old tootles with BB that I was lucky enough to come across, quite by accident, in my initial online car search, when I was forced to get this new ride via this whole BB getting totaled thing replete with local police, eventual litany of insurance agents and an exasperated question to the other driver if she had actually considered looking and signaling before trying to cross over my lane with the sudden need to somehow be somewhere else? The answer was non-committal and maddeningly blasé, no different surely than her seeing the empty donut box in her office’s kitchen, realizing she was donut late again and saying “well gosh darnitt”.

The share and the not easy to come across and something that made the transition easier with some equal Steve comforts? They were/are both stick shifts and both had/have CD players as I am old and like to listen to music in the car on my many burned CD’s specifically burned for car driving from the digital downloads of the very few new albums I may buy, but mostly from my old 80’s and 90’s stuff so I don’t use the original discs.

“Hey, they could become collector’s items!”

“No, they can’t”

“Shut up!”

Now I’m sure that there is a way with this “new” not new but still new enough to me new car (who I have named “Lilly” by the way, in case you were curious which you surely aren’t after rolling your eyes) to play music through some sort of fancy system that could possibly involve USB’s or other such things and devices with music stored on them that might involve shuffle mode (I hate shuffle mode) but that would definitely require me to load them with tunes which I am never going to take the time to do that I could then plug into a port or something somewhere that I will never look for and, when there comes a day where I might have need for another “new” not new but still new enough to me new vehicle that could be slightly more upgraded again and again have a few more bells and whistles and have me write a similar post, just in the future, I will be more than comfortable knowing that I never found a port, though never looking for it in the first place will play a huge part in that.

Anyway, a couple of the few “new bells and whistles” I have discovered so far in these few months with Lilly and, before you ask, no, I did not and have not pored over all that Lilly might have to offer to me in the way of “new” as it’s a heck of a lot more fun to just be surprised by stuff along the way just as I was when I accidentally hit a little “phone” button on the steering wheel only to have the car suddenly talk to me like Kit from Knight Rider just a bit more mundane and lacking that TV show’s chasing or being chased by the bad guys, Hasselhoff excitement.

That’s when I realized well Hell!! could I actually have a hands-free phone after getting all high blue tooth techie and syncing my cell to Lilly and talk out loud inside the car instead of just waiting for when my phone, on speaker, slides off my lap and in between the seats forcing me to say m’f’er a couple of times and then pull over to search for it?

Well, now that is too freakin’ cool, welcome to the 21st century Frankenberry though for my sister Rebecca Frankenberry this “cool” wore off rather quickly after the initial call.

“What now Steve? (sigh)”

“Just calling to say Hi”

“Wait, let me guess, from inside the car … again?”

“Yeah, how cool is this?”

“Do you actually have anything relevant to talk to me about this time?”

“No”

“Bye brother”

“Bye, love ya too!”

Ok, so I’m a bit behind the times but Beck is always a real trooper and is champeen good at humoring me (sooooo many years of Steve practice … poor girl).

Another thing I discovered in the process of new bell and whistling was that Lilly has a sunroof, something I literally did not even notice was there for the for first month or so, though I’m sure it was mentioned to me as a selling point sometime early on in the car buying process but …

… but then, earlier tonight on my way home and on one of the first real thing Spring is almost here post work drives, with some late afternoon sun and newly opened windows in full, with a CD rockin’, I thought to open said sunroof, well after pulling into a grocery store parking lot to put on my “close” glasses after swapping out my “far” (driving) glasses to actually be able to see the how the sunroof and it’s sunroof button worked.

But then, after do-si-do-ing back to my driving glasses, I was on my way again on one of the first real thing Spring is almost here post work drives and it was glorious, as Lilly and I enjoy getting to know each other in an every day is a new day surprise in some late afternoon almost Spring sun and rockin’ CD new breeze sort of way.

A newly revised part two to something I wrote a while back about seeing the “Angel of Death” in the middle of route 9 in Poughkeepsie, a post that is visited again and again by readers here (actually now my most viewed post since I wrote it a few Springs ago)  which is just waaaay cool for whatever the reason as it is a pretty good one if I do say so … and I do. And a fully produced audio version of it is also included in that post which is the highlighted sentence below to lead this off … read that first if you’re interested.

So, are you that guy who saw me on Route 9 in Poughkeepsie a few month’s back?

What?

Are you that guy who saw me standing in between lanes with my hourglass?

(overly dramatic voice over – A dark living dead canvas’s din of  wailing damnation stretches to an endless horizon with hopeless flailing and violent blood lettings and grotesque gouging’s and awkward people singing karaoke and all nasty similar assorted things with paintings by Hieronymus Bosch and Bob Ross hanging slightly askew from every wall as well as posters of Farah Fawcett and Scott Baio and cats that are just hanging in there as far as burned out eyes can see and even a child’s finger painted pictures of all the wretched done on multi colored thick grade school paper are stuck on on countless refrigerators with blood and little cat magnets)

Oh, ok, well that’s somewhat unsettling and a bit silly, but I’m a little confused, a lot more than a little confused really, actually a bit freaked out right now as a matter of fact. Where the Hell am I?

Exactly

????

So, are you that guy that wrote about seeing me there in Poughkeepsie?

Well, yeah, I guess

You guess?

Ok, I jokingly wrote about some guy I saw dressed as the Angel of Death in the middle of Route 9 between a couple of mattress stores, across from a T.G.I. Fridays and a specialty soap shop and a convenience store … but it was just me writing a story!

And that I may have been ordering a burger from that T.G.I. Fridays while I passed the time being all Angel of Death and possibly thinking of doing Angel of Death stuff?

Well, sure, whatever … hold on … you’re not gonna “scythe” me by the way, or whatever it is that you all Angels of Death do, point a death finger or something are ya?

Not yet … spot on on the burger by the way, blood rare, locusts, frogs, extra cheese and fries plus the apple cobbler dessert special. Nice touch. Who doesn’t love themselves a nice apple cobbler?

Alright, with ya on the apple cobbler, grant ya that, some vanilla ice cream too for a bonus if the cobbler is warm, I mean who doesn’t love that …

Hey, I can do warm

Of course you can

… and at the end you asked, as you were worried if I were there in the middle of Route 9 in Poughkeepsie to possibly bring about the end of days, if I could at least let you grab your dinner, feed your cats and clean a litter box or two before the end?  It’s kinda pathetic by the way

Hey, shut up!! but that wasn’t real!!! You were just some nutter in a crappy Grim Reaper get up with an hourglass and …

Careful

Ok, not nutter, maybe just some freak …

Hey, what did I just say about careful?

Fine, fine. Hold off on the scythe will ya? You were an actual Angel of Death, not some random nutter freak in a bad costume in the middle of Route 9 in Poughkeepsie but the real deal

Now you’re getting it

But that was the best you could do?

What?

The outfit? The bad costume? It was soooo High School stage production, and the hourglass was soooo small, there wasn’t anything that you could have grabbed tha …

Hey! I grab what I can from the old morality plays! Hard to come by trustworthy folks around this place ya know, people walk off with costumes and props all the time, for Halloween and freaky parades and funeral parties and then never return ’em … I just grabbed the last things left. It served its purpose though right?

Well not really, it seemed more of a dark thrift store long coat that someone probably died in smelling of urine soaked alleyways and sweat with a too small hourglass in hand …

Ha, died smelling of urine soaked alleyways and sweat … that’s not bad … can I use that?

Sure

And I got a compliment on it

Ah, probably just someone being kind

You’re a dick

I’ve been told. You need to get your costume and prop people in line though and get them to return shit. Halloween and freaky parades and parties as funerals or funerals as parties may have their place but …

Ok whatever, but you know you’re dead right?

(looking around) Jesus dude … is the cleaning lady off today …?

Really?

Oh right, bad exclamation

You still know you’re dead right?

What? No, I’m not, I have cats

You’re not Bill? Who hates cats?

Bill who?

That guy with the bus this morning, the one who wrote about me?

Oh, I read about that … awful business … we’re all so freakin’ immersed in our cell phones … just one bad step when you’re not paying attention and WHAP!! SQUASH!! Bystanders turning in horror and puking on their shoes … and, hey, this Bill fella didn’t try to take credit for that did he, say he was the one who wrote my thing about you?!

So, you’re not that guy? That Bill?

Very much NOT thank you and my name is Steve by the way and I am very much alive, with said cats … just fed them as a matter of fact

Yeah, you told me about the cat thing … still pathetic …you don’t have a girlfriend do you?

What?

Never mind, I’ll leave you be … a NOT Bill as you say … for now … here’s my card

/////////////////////////////

Ahhhh dammit!! Careful willya?! Can you NOT knock shit over please?

(overly dramatic voice over – A dark living dead canvas’s din of  wailing damnation stretches to an endless horizon with hopeless flailing and violent blood lettings and grotesque gouging’s and awkward people singing karaoke and all nasty similar assorted things with paintings by Hieronymus Bosch and Bob Ross hanging slightly askew from every wall as well as posters of Farah Fawcett and Scott Baio and cats that are just hanging in there as far as burned out eyes can see and even a child’s finger painted pictures of all the wretched done on multi colored thick grade school paper are stuck on on countless refrigerators with blood and little cat magnets)

(after bumping into a mantle and crashing a snow globe onto the floor) Ohhh man, I am so sorry, I can pay for that.

How?

Well, I do have a few dolla …

No, no you don’t, you’re dead, you couldn’t take it with you as all those fucking songs were trying to remind you.

Oh, you mean like that one Alan Parsons Project tune from … hold on … love that song … love that song … gimme a sec … gimme a sec .. the one from … uh … from Pyramid? Third album?

Yeah

It’s just one of the litany of endless song drivel about the obvious Bill … and always in an attempted profound kind of way, like that was gonna somehow get you in her pants at that dive pub while you drunkenly jotted things on a napkin hoping to impress her with how “deep” you were …

My name’s not Bill

What?

My name’s not Bill, It’s Steve

Seriously?!! You want to quibble about names?!!

Well, it is kind of important it seems, especially since he’s the guy with the bus and the WHAP!! SQUASH!! and shoe puke, not me!!

Do you hear yourself?  … (bending down to try and clean up pieces of the snow globe) Man, where the fuck is a broom and dustpan when you need one …

Probably with the cleaning lady who obviously didn’t think to come in today

… you know this one was one of my favorites?

I really am sorry

It was Pompeii, all of them huddled together in fear while the ashes … oh those ashes … glorious stuff … how it floated death … you could shake it up and … like, like deadly Christmas … and now you’ve gone and fucked up my Pompei Christmas Bill!

Apologies again, I didn’t realize there was a mantle here, I mean, whodathunk? A nice mantle? In Hell? I can be a bit clumsy … plus I’m kind of new to this plac …

(overly dramatic voice over – A dark living dead canvas’s din of  wailing damnation stretches to an endless horizon with hopeless flailing and violent blood lettings and grotesque gouging’s and awkward people singing karaoke and all nasty similar assorted things with paintings by Hieronymus Bosch and Bob Ross hanging slightly askew from every wall as well as posters of Farah Fawcett and Scott Baio and cats that are just hanging in there as far as burned out eyes can see and even a child’s finger painted pictures of all the wretched done on multi colored thick grade school paper are stuck on on countless refrigerators with blood and little cat magnets)

Damn, does that ever stop? Or is it like when you’re on hold for that associate that might or might not pick up in like 5 to too many minutes?

Sorry, pre-recorded thing, usually closer to the too many minutes, or even infinite or really past that by quite a good margin, eternity you might say … of course there’s a mantle Bill … why wouldn’t there be a mantle, or are you judging me, that I can’t have a nice house with proper nice house things, like mantles?

Have you looked around here lately?

Sarcasm not appreciated Bill … I mean where the hell are you going to display your proudest of knick knacks and set them up for the holidays?

It’s Steve

What?!!!

It’s Steve, you called me Bill again

You know Phil when I find my broom I’m going to beat you to death with it and …

Well, not much point in that if I’m already dead as you say right?

… well, I’m going to beat you death with it twice and then clean up Pompeii (picking up tiny characters) I mean look at this, all spooned together, how cute is that?

It’s not really. It’s kind of sad

Ok ground rules Dave

It’s Steve

Ok ground rules Chris, I don’t care of sad, not caring of sad is pretty much what I do, it’s just a tired human trait that helps them explain how they feel when one of theirs gets dead. And I don’t care how it happens. It can be a bus …

And that was awful … WHAP!! SQUASH!! puke …

Shut up Frank … it can be a bus, or a knife or a loss of head … like Highlander, loved that Sean Connery with his Scottish swish, though that whole immortal thing was just funny, so dramatic, so unreal, it can be a tall bridge swan song, it can be cancer or a gun shot or shots like in the movies or even in your real world like at traffic stops, don’t be black by the way, even the simplest of cuts that just get ignored and then fester till sepsis sets in, that’s one of my favorites, so slow, so preventable … ain’t nothing sexier …

But?

Shut up Steve it’s all abou …

Finally, you got it right

What!?

My name, you got it right

Of course I did Steve, I know everyone’s name. Have you looked at my mantle, the one you just bumped into and blew up my Pompeii snow globe from (with a “stop hanging in there, you’re dead” cat poster hanging above it with an infinite list of names superimposed)

Woah, that’s a lot of names … wait … hey, I had that poster!! Well, not quite THAT poster

Everyone had that poster Kirk

Ahh man, again? It’s Steve!

Oh, shut up Sherry

Whoa, I’m a woman now?

Does it matter? You’re dead

Yes, it does …

Yes, I know Terry …

Wait, hold on, Terry, that’s alright

What?

I kinda like Terry

Not Alejandro? That was my next one

Where the fuck would come from? No, I don’t speak Spanish though that is kind of sexy … no Terry’s Ok, I mean if you’re going to call me something that isn’t Steve, I can be Ok with Terry.

Whoa hold up, this isn’t one of those gender things is it?

What?

It’s just those conservative guys keep going on and on about gender things like it’s the end of the world or something … and if anyone knows the end of world, well, it ain’t that. Believe me.

No, I just like Terry, it just happens to be able to go both ways, they were Steelers quarterbacks by the way

The whoers?

The Steelers … a football team. I loved my 70’s Steelers.

Ok, whatever old man but we’ll go with Terry, yeah, I’ll remember that now plus Steve sounds a bit of a dullard name

Hey, hey, no it doesn’t!

Shut up Terry

I’m also not dead as you seem so intent on believing and I keep trying to tell ya

Right, of course you’re not, they all say that

No really, I’m not

You’re not? (giggling to death self) Are you sure (more giggling)?

Yes, I mean no, I have cats like I said, the one’s I fed like 5 minutes ago before this nightmare and you confused me with some dude named Bill who apparently was too much of a moron to not look up from his phone for a second before stepping off the curb and a WHAP!! SQUASH!! shoe puke … I’m so I’m not dead yet, as a matter of fact that one, as I look through this weird ass  mirror of yours is meowing right now like she’s at the funeral of a lost cat friend and in just a few minutes she’s  probably gonna start splashing around her water bowl like it’s some kiddie pool and annoy the hell out of me, no slight intended, and that one, Bella is yawning at belly rubs on a kitchen table in a living room with an “Oh, you’re all good girlfriend, dinner’s right up here in a sec” … from me, and that’s me, giving the belly rubs … right now.

Well, that’s weird.

What?

Me seeing you through this swishy looking mirror thing while you’re right here, that’s kinda new. But it’s more than that.

What is?

You have a kitchen table in the living room?

Ok?

That a cat sleeps on?

Yeah … your point?

You don’t eat there do you? I meant that’s just fucking gross. Ah, never mind (looking around) How are you here then?

I don’t know, you tell me.

Dammit, really? (looking around twice) Son of a bitch I’m going to be in so much trouble.

Well, that’s all you, dinner and litter boxes and water bowls here man, just figure out a way to get me … I don’t know, get me back to “me” I guess, probably through that swishy looking weird mirror thing there. Here’s my card, my still living card … it says “Steve”.

///////////////////////////////

I don’t know Mom, I’m sorry, he seemed sooooo dead …

How many times have I told you to NOT go into the world of the living and fool around? This isn’t a game!

But Mom? I was just hungry and bored.

Just go, go to your room, and clean up that mess … and that Pompei snow globe was a treasured gift by the way.

But that’s the cleaning lady’s job …

Well obviously she hasn’t been around lately so just go, get to it!

And what’s with that swishy looking mirror thing Mom? … ???? … Ok, my bad, won’t ask, gotcha, backing out of the room now …

(overly dramatic voice over – A dark live canvas’s din of damnation stretches with hopeless flailing and violent blood lettings and grotesque gouging’s and awkward people singing karaoke and all nasty similar assorted things with paintings by Hieronymus Bosch and Bob Ross …

Ok, can someone turn that fuckin thing off by the way?!!