A Happy Slobbery Mess

Well, the girls just survived a visit from The Louie.

Mimi: Egads!! What the hell is that thing?!

Bella: Did you just say “Egads”?

Mimi: Yeah, and?

Bella; Well don’t look at me on that thing. Hell, you came from the “down there” you should know … and please don’t say “Egads” again … ever.

Mimi: Hey, I’ve been up here for a while thank you and anyway I don’t know this one. I’d surely remember such a slobbery mess.

Bella: Yeah, well a happy slobbery mess since it’s eating all our freakin’ food!

Cricket: Hey, what’s goin’ on you two?

Mimi: Oh, it’s disgusting. Where’d that human of ours go? He didn’t leave us with this abomination did he? And what’s with all the snorting?

Bella: I don’t know, a truffle hunt identity crisis? And I think he just went to the “down there”, he didn’t say goodbye like 30 times like he usually does during the week.

Mimi: That is kind of annoying huh? Just say goodbye once and get the hell out already.

Cricket: Hello?! Anyone? A little help you two, blind over here ya know. What’s happening?

Bella: It’s just one of those noisy, slobbery, snorty things from the “down there” eating up all of our damn food!!

Cricket: Oh, that’s all? Ok. let me know when it’s gone.

Mimi: Hold on I hear footsteps. Save us human!!! And please clean those bowls and Adam’s to go’s before you put more food back in them. They’re all freakin’ gross and spitty now.

I had popped my head downstairs to say Hi to Celie who had just gotten home, along with her son Matt, and I was grabbing the last of some things in the dryer. It is a benefit of living here that I’m able to keep the sundries and other such wearing things clean on a weekly basis without having to outsource it to some spot where quarters are at a premium, uncomfortable sitting is required, even a good book not enough to distract and I’d have to have sanitizer at my hip on a worn leather belt like some sort of gunslinger in the Covid age.

After a quick hello to cats and Celie humans and an insistant bird and a retreat back to a soon hamper fill I made my way through the mudroom where the washer/dryer sits as well as the door to my upstairs. I did a quick dog count and a “goodnight” at each count head check.

Got ‘em all, Pea, Polly, Georgia, Chrissy with head pets and bellys and under chins and … Louie? But wait … There wa’nt no Louie. Where the hell was Louie?

Seems I had left my door ajar. Louie knows all about doors ajar. Well, it was no longer “ajar” but fully open and seeming to invite Louie to venture.

I stopped a PetSmart earlier today on my way home from a little sendoff for my brother Nick, who is bound for Louisiana, a new step in his Entergy world. He has worked at Indian Point for years I can’t count now as some stuff and time melds, but with it’s soon closing he is off to a new spot to continue to patrol places we never really think of but provide us with light to write words.  

It was a nice sendoff. Brothers in Beacon, NY, a place with pizza, they probably call it artisan, but a menu beyond that, I’ll have the chicken scarpariello with those cherry peppers and jalapenos please, a place that has been the go-to for so many years of our family moments.  Beck (my sis) and her guy Buck, in the coolest of hats, a similar fedora type thing I rocked from the Cherry Door thrift shop so many years ago in college, gave Nick a Christmas present that he didn’t get back when we were Christmasing from afar, a really nice Marines “Hooh Ah” t-shirt  that could kick my ass just from looking at it, I gave him a small box of some Alan Parsons CD’s for the to Louisiana drive because of course I did. Mom was there with Al, her guy, who genuinely, almost accidentally laughed in his stoidness at some of my and our stupid stories, especially the one about that time years ago where I came to find myself wearing my ex-father in law’s underwear (story for another time) and Ma sat being Ma gathering her collar in the chill that was an outside sit (my only stipulation on going to a restaurant). Can’t really ask for more than that. A Ma, and a proud new hairdoo with some new blonde highlights, Ma. There is a disconnect on occasion as some things slide, but Ma was a Ma today surely cursing somewhere in her head why we had to be sitting outside with her gathered collar in the not quite cold almost warm of a Saturday Spring but still cold Stephen I’ll “brain” you for this chill as it’s your fault.

I specifically went for two things at Petsmart all double masked up and head down. No Ron De’Stupid Florida type stuff here. Science is science. Other than Price Chopper early in the morning once a week I don’t usually stray, but it was on my way, and I wanted some cans of food that have a fancier look, ones that claim Farm and others that claim Ocean and cost a few more cents, but gain an extra nose and an extra lick and a bag of Royal Canin dry food that I can only blame Bob Miller for. He’s the morning show guy for WBPM here and when the last of his best passed not too long ago he gave me what was left, even though there were now newbies, a let go and a start anew I guess, some foods that I gladly took not realizing at the time that Mimi The Quirky, Cricket the Blind and my little Bella would find the Royal Canin to be the greatest dry cat food since the big dry cat food bang.  

This shit’s almost 40 bucks a bag BOB!! I wanna see your portfolio. What dry cat foods are you invested in?


Louie cleaned house. He went past the ajar and just vacuumed, not a hard bowl or plastic Adams to go box left with even a morsel. But the girls were fine when I made my way to the fast realization follow up the stairs, calling for and shooing a Louie away.

Just stares from three computer chairs wondering of the sloppy mess that is a Louie, more curiosity than anything else, was all I had to be worried of it seems.

I stepped back down to note to Celie and to Matt of a Louie and whatever words I could find to convey the funny of a Louie mess in my apartment but they were heads in on another furry project. A blind one who’s needs superseded anything that I could imagine.

You’re all good girls. Ya met Louie I’m assuming? Yeah, I know. He’s a pain in the ass. Hard bowls and Adams to-go’s are back in order now, and I de-louie’d them.  (Mimi: Oh, thank goodness!!)

Me: Thank goodness indeed Memes.

Mimi: Woah!!! You can hear me?

Me: I can if I’m the one writing this and, well, I am a crazy cat lady guy, that would only make sense right?

Mimi: Freaky.

Me: Oh, I guess it’s a good thing I stopped at PetSmart on the way home now that everything needs a refill. Loaded up on that fancier looking Frisky stuff you three like and got another bag of the Royal Canin. Freakin’ expensive stuff, definitely gotta keep Louie away in the future, but you’re all set now.

Mimi: Ummmm … thanks?

Me: Welcome.

Mimi: Hey Bella guess wh…

Bella: Don’t look at me, I ain’t saying a word.

Open Windows

As I was driving home earlier this week, enjoying day three of temps in the mid to upper 60’s, finally a nice stretch that might stay now (I’m not checking the forecast forward by the way just in case) I had my windows down welcoming the breeze of the early evening and the drive, Alan Parsons “I Robot” playing just loud enough to remind me of when Ma might knock on my bedroom wall and I came to one of the many, waaaay too many traffic lights on Route 9 here in Poughkeepsie.

I was in the middle lane of three when from behind me in the outside lane I heard heavy metal. Definitely not the Alan Parsons Project, and definitely not a just loud enough Mom knock on the wall kinda volume. No, this was at a Mom pound on the wall kinda volume, maybe even accompanied with yells, wall broom handles and threats. It sat behind me, just to my left drowning out I Robot’s “Breakdown” until the light turned green and as we moved forward it passed me … windows wide … a mini van, a kidless mini van, with the van’s somewhat younger Mom driving it. No worries of broom handles or threats I guess. No pound on walls when you’re the one behind those walls right? Just sensible walls on wheels. I thought to myself “ Nice. Nicely done. Nicely loudly played open windows some young Mom.”

Besides noting a somewhat younger moms’ nice play and rockin’ out in a mini van I did note something else, something I just don’t quite get and something, really, that I find a bit dismaying. She and I and a relative handful of others, compared to the amount of traffic you’ll find on Route 9 at this time, were the only ones with our windows open.

Now when I tell you the weather was just perfect, throw that sweatshirt from the morning in the back seat when you get in to head home your t-shirt just fine perfect? The sun setting sitting setting just right, not blinding, no you don’t need your unnecessary too cool shades perfect?  A breeze that is just right as you sit at traffic lights with a comfy elbow out?  Yeah, it was that perfect. That finally weather, the weather with a small window that you’ll eventually hark back on not too long from now, annoyingly so, but so fondly, as you do every year, about how you wish it could have stayed like this when the heat comes.

Yet I noted so many closed windows, so many driving closed with what, all I can assume, is their AC on already. Really?! 6 months or so of cooped closed windows at home, at the office if you were there, in your car because Winter and when you finally get a chance for some fresh air, especially now, you keep your windows closed and go for the AC?

I mentioned this to a best of friend at work who sheepishly raised a hand.

“it’s because it seems kind of oppressive” he said.

“No, no it doesn’t” I said with an eyebrow.

“But to go from the cold to this it can definitely feel kind of oppress …”

I let him trail off as his justification was just lame.

Now admittedly I don’t like AC, I hate it. At work? Well, that is what it is when it is and I have my at work zip up hoodie at the ready just in case. But given the choice? No, I ain’t using it if I’m in a position to not. I haven’t used AC in the car since I lived in Florida for a short time and that was 20+ years ago and even then it was as infrequent as possible. Not wanting the need to maybe change my shirt the second I clocked in the only reason for it. Hell, I’ve owned BB going on 4 years now and I’m not even really sure if his AC works. I mean, I tried it once when I first bought him, just a check it kind of thing, but it didn’t do a lot of AC’ing, just a lot of air blowing, was probably in need of a re-charge I thought but? That would be a waste of money especially as that runs around 150 bucks or so these days.

At home? I had one of those inside, on wheels droid like things with a vent hose for a window when I first took my now going on 7 years singleness on the road to an apartment in Hyde Park. It was really just a noisy bother and only eventually had me laying things on or over it, usually Pirates hats or Tees first step before the hamper and repeating Star Wars lines at it …  “This isn’t the AC droid you’re looking for … ”

My wonderful little apartment here for the last 3 now going on 4 summers has central air and I know that “central air” can, for some, call heavenly horns right? The thing realtors surely sell hard, but for me it’s a just a thing, a thing I won’t use.

I have fans and open windows with bought cat seats or fashioned storage binned ones with towel tops. I mean why even have the idea of an open window if you can’t sit in it with a cat and see and hear and feel their view?

I like open widows and being aware of the sound outside of them. Throw in some fans for the summer and I’m all set. I want to hear birds in the morning and the trains that used to pass just across the Hudson in my Hyde Park apartment at night, inspiring clickety clacketly clack bad poetry. I want to hear traffic in the distance, sirens and stories imagined, neighbors fighting or laughing or cooking with plate and silverware sounds, wondrous things that waft scents and sounds up the stairs, open windows. I refuse to not hear the world, to not feel natural breezes aided with a fan or two, to not have to curse when rains come and I have to close them.

Here, at times, I’ve heard the owls at night or the roosters in the morning, the cows when they’re cowing mad and reminding of cow wants, the horses when they’re not being dicks to the cows, dogs barking and cats occasionally reminding other cats to back the fuck off. I want to hear the lawn mower possibly wake me from an early Saturday afternoon nap after I spent Friday night being an idiot and staying up too late like I was a kid again, I want that to hear that mower wake me and throw at me some of the sweetest of newly cut grass smells.

Can’t your closed window AC just take a sec, till when you really have the need for your creature comfort to then bitch about it later? Just take a sec to air stuff out on a perfect of Spring rides home?

As she drove off, that somewhat younger mom, I applauded her moment, my moment, a not quite quiet time for sure, Mom’s a knockin’, maybe on the way for a pick up of the kids to fill that mini-van with a different not quite musical noise, a one of obligation and love but she had her loud windows open, for just a bit, welcoming a real breeze … with a soundtrack. A loud soundtrack.

Cheers somewhat younger Mom.

The Continuing Chronicles Of A Crazy Cat Lady Guy: Spring (a window)

cricket spring breeze

(over a couple of weekends)

Though it was still a bit chilly earlier, an open window, even for a moment, grabbed a fan of Cricket the Blind

Cricket the Blind:





Not too cold

Ok, and?


Oh, right. Open

Thanks. Tomorrow too?

Yep, will do


bella spring breeze

Still a bit chilly but …


Where is she?


That Cricket cat

Cricketing somewhere

You know I don’t like her right?

Yes, well aware

I didn’t say this out loud

Say what? Almost can’t hear you

She has her smart moments, finding this open window an’ all yesterday

Yes she does


mimi spring breeze #1

mimi spring breeze #2

Some chilly a bit still but Spring open window sprung

Mimi the Quirky:

They anywhere near?


No blind air sniffs?


No that one that’s always here?


It’s all mine?


Cool, fuck them



Cricket singin'

Because there is always a Monty Python reference to be made

Steve, I’d rather just … sing

Stop that, stop that, you’re not going into a song while I’m ‘ere

Trumpy Snacks (song)

After spending a bit of time with my last one, Cult Orange Taxi, which I wasn’t sure of (better than I initially thought … much) I revisited this one. 

It’s one I thought to leave on a shelf but with some listens again it’s not all that bad plus, it’s my blog, I am the only arbiter so why the hell not? Crap or no.

This is one of my favorite tunes from the 90’s and I absolutely love the video, it’s a just TOO cool. Man those shoes.

Fun Loving Criminals, “Scooby Snacks” with the Tarantino movie quotes an all.

Should it probably still sit on a shelf of the maybe’s? 

Maybe … maybe not.


Trumpy Snacks

“Everybody be cool, this is an insurrection!”


Don and lack facts set the track long ago   

His act election taint would be the big blow  

After mail in lies re-votes’ll be where the enemy goes

He exulted to podiums

Future fraud agendum

And lies don’t matter much

He bought with no cost

Small minds all loudly and blindly so


Donnie Donnie Donnie


(Is this some Fascist-T love thing happening here people or what?)


When loss came the long game went into play

Cries rang out loud … that this was a no go

He couldn’t have lost … hell he even said so

Statistically not possible and numbers were his go go

Made up as they were he couldn’t have been wrong  

They thought singin’ all dumb dumb days long

So they listened to him being done so so wrong

Not to just to him but them that was a no no


“Look, I don’t know anything about any fucking election fraud
You can torture me all you want”

“Torture you, that’s good, that’s a good idea, I like that


Runnin’ around spoutin’ lies all whacked off on Trumpy snacks

We’ll take your commands

Rush the gates all whacked off on Trumpy Snacks


And Pence don’t give a fuck about a noose’s close call

If self respect was in height he’s only inches tall

He op-eds big lie, like he’s money

Though Trump had hoped his feet dangled funny


Ron Johnson chimes new times explanation

Antifa hell bent on insurrection

And try blame Pelosi for not calling in Nat guard

10,000 strong Trump numbers lie song

Revisionists don’t care much what they get wrong

Say it enough and it’ll last days years long

But in the meantime you’re votes we leave charred

Suppression will and always be in their yard

Cause they can’t win without playing that card


Trumpy, we need you, are we fools?

Nah, you’re tools


Runnin’ around spoutin’ lies all whacked off on Trumpy snacks

We’ll take your commands

rush the gates all whacked off on Trumpy Snacks


Muddy the waters make the rounds

All whacked off on Trumpy Snacks

Nothin’ to see pundits sound

All whacked off on Trumpy Snacks  


You got nothin’ on him


It was no big deal


To Pee Or Not To … (song)

So here at House Wiltse (my latest nom of this place – I’ve penned quite a few of them over the last 3+ years always imagining whichever one on a shingle hanging above the front porch) there are a couple or a few or a number of cats. That’s downstairs by the way. You are already well aware, I’m sure, of my upstairs couple or a few or a number of or a three now or a four twice or a five once or even the momentary more when I’ve made the mistake of leaving my door open while doing a load of clothes. But there are a couple or a few or a number of cats downstairs and with that any number comes the occasional issue.

“Hey! Off the counter!”

“Hey! Don’t be swattin’!”

“Hey! I’m wearing a black sweatshirt and don’t have one those sticky rolly things!”

You just learn to roll with them and wear lighter colors.

This is small stuff though, small cat stuff you just navigate knowing that that it is part of the deal. But sometimes the “occasional issue” is one that is more than just a butt push to the floor or an admonishment to be nice or a back off from the sweatshirt you hairy hair hairy. Sometimes it’s an actual issue, like peeing where peeing shouldn’t happen. That’s what litter and its boxes are for right? Not so much it seems.

Celie (my landlady for those that don’t know or land-bestie as my friend Jonna likes to put it) texted me just a week or so ago that she had a song idea for me (you may have noticed I’ve been wont to a parody song or two over the last few years) after one of the couple of or a few of or a number of cats downstairs decided to eschew the litter box and just go free rein, free pee rein.



She got the thought of the chorus of Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” in her head just with a Cujo pee tint as he surely looked at her and cat said “what?”

I decided to go with that thought and thought some silly while I was at it.

It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Pee


Yo, Handsome … Open up man

What do you want Cujo?

Mom just caught me


I don’t know how


In the shower, you know


I don’t know what to do

Well, say it wasn’t you




Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door


How could you forget that Mom’s the one who owns this villa

She’s got sixth senses that snap up on her pilla

You keep this up she’s gonna be your killa

She knows it’s you even got ya on camera

Before you were dumb and strolled off into the shower

These humans got tech to catch you any hour

Yeah that’s video your ass up on stovetop

You gotta say it wasn’t you to save you from the next stop


But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
Heard her screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off


Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door


Act like nothing happened, that it’s no big deal  

Walk your Cujo walk, denial in your cool

See if you can sing another cat’s fault song

Maybe Sunny with who you don’t get along  

You’re gonna be banished from house for real

You’ll be pushin’ daisies soon for just this deal

You’ll be out garage, house life won’t last

Get caught again and 9th life will pass  


But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
I heard the screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off


Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door


Gonna blame some other

For the smell that I’ve caused

Gotta be some other cat who goes and pees against doors

I will tell her that maybe it’s because of the dogs

I’ll just make sure they don’t catch me

When they figure mad cause


Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door


Celie came in

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me I do say

I didn’t pee I will say

Celie came in then

She caught me red handed

It wasn’t me


The Continuing Chronicles Of A Crazy Cat Lady Guy: 3 Computer Chairs

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Okay. I’m gonna stop ya right now, before you even start getting all high an mighty about how I should know my place, that I shouldn’t go shootin’ above my station, that I should just keep my head down and defer.  But I have THREE computer chairs now. Suck it.

Like the finest of the fine with doilies under every lamp, majestic chandeliers hanging over your head in grand vestibules when your entry has been announced with white gloves and tails, like momma being too particular and always thinking of the big day and it’s company I have an extra computer chair now, twice, three computer chairs being two more than yours. Alright, that’s a little much, there’s no correlation in sounding all privilege and 3 computer chairs by the way.  It’s just me being dramatic but still feeling a bit fancy. No, I have no idea how three computer chairs equates to fancy, it’s just the seeming and joking excess that’s kinda cool. 

You see Cricket the Blind is a pain in the ass. However much she may be good sleep company, the best of sleep company, grabbing that nook between two pillows with a paw on a shoulder and the comfiest of a night’s almost sleep when you need it the most she is an awful computer cat. Always squirmy and moving, never settled. Thus, a third chair.

Typing around her, a right hand click click with a left hand butt hold, or a left hand click click with a right hand butt hold, she always proves to be just no good at this Steve wants words with both hands thing.

Three computer chairs


There was a sun room and a blind cat. A room and a cat I would make my way to, a destination, on a daily basis when I first moved in here after convincing Celie that I was an alright guy (yes Todd Snider, I gotchya) convincing her that there was nothing to be concerned with, with a me, when it came to this new soon to not be stranger venturing into her house, and through the kitchen with hello’s to all the kit gang, Hey Honey Bob Tail “Boo”, Hi Handsome, Sharky, Bunny, what’s up Chubs and a prairie dog stand up, Lola, Florida, Cujo, Trucker under the table on a chair, the always Bruce owning this place with his Billy Idol smirk’s seeming disdain, others I may be missing, yes, Bella Bird, you too and I got your new water and then into the sun room. Cricket was an extra hello that I found necessary. She still needs a pick up to behind my right ear daily as I always did when I would finally make my way to the back of the house and that sunroom.

Then came some new company in this sunroom spot and I worried of Cricket the Blind and the interaction with a blind cat and a newbie.

“I can bring her upstairs with me for right now” I said to Celie, trying to avoid the possibilities of a bad meet between the two.

That “for right now” has turned into 3 years and an always right now. She has found a singular human, has found that daily shoulder behind the right ear lift. But she is, as a I mentioned earlier, a pain in the ass. Everything that cats do, from water bowling, to meowing to litter boxing Cricket does annoyingly. The water in bowls is an argument she makes with it, splashingly and messily, her meowing is more a loud meowl sounding wail like she’s mourning a loss, the litter in its box is a fight she picks with it throwing it about around her like some well crafted scene from a martial arts movie with kicks and lunges and tosses or a bugs bunny-like digging a hole or tunnel, dirt/litter cartoonishly being thrown behind her.


When I sit down to scribble key a few words it’s usually with a Memes on my desk on a bar towel, always looking not quite comfy and a part of the quirky, a Bella in a chair next to me (she always has to be) and a Cricket asleep in my former ass warm spot in front of a leaned wall pillow on the bed. But then Cricket will awake, “She is ALIVE!”, lightly stepping down to the floor and then to roomba around spots in this little place, head bump turn, meowl, head bump turn, meowl, head bump turn.

Eventually the head bump turn roomba meowling will put her at my feet and the need of a pick up … to my lap and being a bad computer cat. But I noted that when I find the need to get up, to pee, grab another beer, or to just get up to walk a bit around this place, surveying my comfort, she’ll be all good with a lay down on my chair. Another ass warm spot. That’s when I realized if only for another chair. One for cricket, one for Bella and one to sit in with a Memes cat in a lap after she wants off her bar towel as she’s the best at that cat lap sit, just on my left hip.  If I get a fourth chair you might wanna call someone for an intervention. 


But I think I’m good with three now. I know, it sounds crazy cat lady guy-like but it really is somewhat practical from my perspective and, again, almost kinda fancy but … well, it works and I can type with both hands. 

Memes and a computer lap

Cult Orange Taxi (Song)

This one doesn’t rate with my last I don’t think but it’s still pretty alright. Another parody tune about our present madness, this one to “Big Yellow Taxi”.

Cult Orange Taxi 

He paid no price, and now they still prop him up   

The Johnson’s and Gaetz’ and the rest who drink from golden lie cup

This isn’t how this all should go

Seditionists still caught in the throes

Allegiance to cult

Ignore our democracy


Ooooh, bop bop bop

Ooooh, bop bop bop


Find words to absolve no matter how dumb they be

Retreat to safe votes on false tech-ni-calities  

No No No

This isn’t how this all should go

Seditionists still caught in the throes

Allegiance to cult

Hit hard the re-visioning


Ooooh, bop bop bop

Ooooh, bop bop bop


Hey people people we might as well give up the ghost

Of rati-on-al thought in the wind now with a GOP lo-ost  


This isn’t how this all should go

Seditionists still caught in the throes

Allegiance to cult

Believe only his lies screed

Hey now

Allegiance to cult

A fascism ecstasy


Ooooh, bop bop bop

Ooooh, bop bop bop


They claim armed revolt wasn’t what it seemed

They distract lie away from what was really seen


This isn’t how this all should go

But seditionists know no low too low

Allegiance to cult

Still wishing autocracy

Hey now now

This isn’t how this all should go

They work as team to block a sane flow

Allegiance to cult

Lies are some strong ammo

Allegiance to cult

Corrupt personality

Hey Hey Hey

Allegiance to cult

Ignoring all truth it seems


Ooooh, bop bop bop

Ooooh, bop bop bop


We can’t just forgive it

Can’t forgive it

Can’t just go let it move along-ong-ong-ong


Can’t just forget it

Can’t just leave it

Can’t let them sing a new lie song


We can’t just pass it a-long

Move it along

As lies continue to play

Hey Hey Hey

Can’t let them control

No matter now what they say


Nah nah now

Nah nah now


Can’t let him get away now

Allegiance to cult

A fascism ecstasy 


Nah now now now now now


Allegiance to cult

A fascism ecstasy 


How lazy is lazy?

Yesterday (Saturday) I broke out the clippers (best 18 dollar investment ever though my lack of skill is clearly evident underneath my hat) and stood in the shower (not running) as I always do when I break out the clippers and did a bit of a clip around the old noggin and the cheeks (face cheeks ya weirdo’s).

The hair that fell has been sitting on the floor of the shower since then just waiting for me to sweep it up and warning me, in my dozen or so trips to the bathroom in the interim (I’m old – I trip to the bathroom a lot) that I’m going to be pissed if it’s still there tomorrow (Monday) morning.

Well, just now, I finally brought in the broom and dustpan … and leaned them up against the wall by the light switch.

Lazy takes small steps.

Stink Bugs & Me

Stink Bug


  • any of numerous broad, flat bugs of the family Pentatomidae, that emit a disagreeable odor.
  • any of various other malodorous bugs.



  • in a Pittsburgh Pirates hat with cats, singular and thin (minus that beer bulb above his belt) of the family Frankenberry human
  • malodorous or disagreeable scents are only for cats to decide and they poop in an open air box so they’re not much to judge

Stink Bugs seem to be fan of my apartment, and me, and I’m guessing some of you might be able to relate.

Stink Bug 02-20-21

Now, I’m not overrun, sometimes in the summer there might come the occasional mini swarm of ‘em but, though it is just a few, there is never a time where that aren’t at least a couple to be found hanging around somewhere in this place, doing Stink Buggy stuff, which is generally just that, hanging around, on or in or under things and usually found with a bit of surprise. They don’t freak me out, mind you, as they might some and there is no knee jerk to quickly kill them as could be the case with others or even you. It’s not a “me or them” kinda thing, they pose no real threat to my life as far as I can tell, well, except for maybe that one crazy for bug and bug country kamikaze flying stinker who might hit you full buzzing speed fly mid yawn to get lodged in your choking throat becoming a folk hero to Stink Bugs all across Stink Bug Nation but, otherwise, they’re pretty harmless.

My ex, Maria, was on the freak out end of the stink bug, or any bug reaction spectrum and found no humor in me finding humor in her freak outyness or my smiling indifference to complying with her demands to kill them as she cowered with eyes wide and a pointed finger. Even the JG, her son, cowered and pointed the same. And he was a kid. Isn’t gotta crush bugs right in a kid’s wheelhouse? Maybe there was some early childhood trauma associated with bugs I wasn’t aware of before we threw in our hats. A spider on his pillow whispering nightmares, a centipede crawling leg legs legs legs legs over his arm in the middle of the night, an aunt that came out from under the floorboards and squeezed his cheek too tightly giving unwelcome kisses? If so, apologies for sounding callous JG, but Stink Bugs, for the most part, are pretty simple, slow meandering things who don’t really do much, flit to flying only on occasion, but usually are pretty easy to gather into my catch and release empty Friskies cat food can … have open window, will Stink Bug travel.

You see Stink Bugs and I here have come to a sort of understanding. You stay away from the bed, especially my pillow, you don’t buzz my noggin tower in the middle of the night, you stay away from my sundries and my bathroom towels, you back off on the Human vs Stink Bug wartime propaganda to try and keep your kamikaze prone in check and I in turn … won’t kill you. I think that’s pretty fair. I will even call all of you Ralph (apologies femme stinkies – and any Ralph’s that may be reading this) to sort of, though generically, personalize our relationship and make you feel more at home and give you a bit more reason to stick to our agreement.

Now occasionally there are those that will break the armistice though some of it is my own doing. I don’t use my bathroom hand towel very often so when I do come across a Stink Bug on it I can’t be overly upset and just resort to a willy nilly lobbing of killings at all Stink Bugs. It’s what they do. If ya leave an anything hanging too long, some rogue Stink Bug will test the waters, or cloths. I can give that a pass, but there was a situation a couple of evenings ago that seriously tested our truce.

After getting home and going about my routine of getting to the top of the stairs and greeting Mimi the Quirky (always waiting just there amid a tappy tappy toe toe tap tap to the floor stretch) with a pick up to my shoulder where she awkwardly enjoys my pets and hello’s in her quirky, old girl shy to the touch squirmy way, giving a pet and a wink to my little Bella, being quiet so as to NOT wake up Cricket the Blind (that’s when the meowling and circles pacing starts if you do), cleaning up after said Cricket the Blind who can take the simplest of cat functions like water bowling or litter boxing and make them the not simplest of messes (she literally fights with the water in the water bowl and splashes it around like she’s trying to teach it a lesson for saying something it should regret before drinking it off her paw), fill some clean bowls with new food, get my own new food ready and get changed into some comfies, I made my way to the bathroom for my evening … ummm … well, my evening make way to the bathroom.

When I was finished with my evening make way to the bathroom I stood, and just before my bend down for the pull up a Stink Bug fell … to the floor … from oh God no please … to just between my heels inside my underwear waiting for that pull up and just before slowly Stink Bugging away.

I said earlier that Stink Bugs don’t freak me out, and they don’t, though this came close to qualifying. It had an at first glance obviousness that I was unwilling to consider.

Could that have?

Is it possible it?

Am I a freak?

I detectived.

Did you feel any tickles or scratching during the day I said to a me? No. (penciling notes on my little mental detective notepad)

Did anyone at work comment on your butt muscles moving in any strange way while you walked past them? No. Plus that could have possibly prompted a call to Bev in HR. 

Were you the subject of a coolly looking though horrific scene in a monster movie watching under skin bumps slowly rolling, crawling from your buttocks toward your brain? No.

Do you have any weird ass (?) entomological predilections you should never, EVER, mention out loud in any company, mixed or not, if so? No.

Then, continuing to detective, I thought of other places that a Stink Bug could have fallen from to between my heels instead of out of what was just too much to consider.

Light bulb! (save my thoughts light bulb … please).

I had just put on a long sleeve shirt that was laying on the futon from the Saturday before’s laundry and had been for almost a week (my futon is kind of like a dresser, just minus the folding, the drawers and the picture frames, my actual dresser envious of the use and attention). Yeah, that’s it I thought. That’s the ticket. It must have just fallen from the inside of my long sleeved shirt I kept thoughting.

I went with that.

I had to.

Could I have, again, possibly started lobbing killings as this could be considered a breaking of our Stink Bug & Me treaty or do I instead go with the aforementioned understanding that the unattended can be considered fair game in Stink Bug Land?

Alright Ralph, we’re good for now. We’ll just call this a one off. But please, if ya can, just grab and hold on to shit in my closet that I never wear will ya? Stop falling out of the seeming unimaginable. It’s uncomfortable at the thought.

Stink Bug & Marvin


Yesterday morning, after a stand up from my … ummm … make way to the bathroom in the morning pre-shower make way to the bathroom a something fell to the floor between my heels. It was a little on the hairy side. Bella, who is always my company around my legs and feet before I jump in the shower in the mornings, stepped over my feet to sniff at it … then promptly hightailed it out of there as if she had just sniffed at a cat demon or been bitten in the ass. It was nothing more than laundry fluff from yet another recently washed and dried long sleeve, layed on the futon dresser, but it scared the shit out of a cat enough to a mad sprint. Truthfully, it kinda concerned me a bit too. Well, at least it just stayed there, sat, all hairy and maybe worrisome but, still,  just sat.

In Bella’s defense it was some pretty frightening looking laundry fluff – something that John Carpenter might have imagined could sprout legs and scamper off malevolently  – but it was still just laundry fluff.

Seems agreements need now be reached with fluff as well I guess.