Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Raspberry (Razzy), Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything … 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs … damned humans.
Author: Stephen J Frankenberry
Just some guy in a Pirates hat, couple'o cats and this spot
With the Orange asshat out on the road and being all extra Orangey and asshatty recently, of course attacking anyone who dares not support him with that special brand of witless wit of his, I thought I’d go back to February of 2020 for a bit of fun and a take on “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”.
Good times.
Plus as an added bonus, if you click now, there are a couple of links to this Beatles phase of mine, though obviously dated, including a limited edition version of “Yellow Submarine”, act fast!! Don’t delay!! Only available for today!! (Ok, well …)
/////////////////////////////
February 16, 2020
A most bestest of friend of mine (yeah, I said most bestest … what of it?) who I sent a rough draft of this, texted me to complain of an ear worm. Apologies I said, but, selfishly, I’m all good with complaints of an ear worm. I’ll take that as a compliment to some of my endeavor’s annoying stick-in-the-headedness.
Though I recently posted my collection of Beatles/Trump tunes from the last year or so, The Orange Album, it seems that wasn’t a final Beatles piece. I’m thinkin’ I’d pair this version of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer with my version of Yellow Submarine, “Orange Quarantine” for an A and B side single if I could do such a thing. A good ol’ double sing-a-long. Tap a toe if you’d like.
Haven’t done a So Then Sunday in a while. For a refresher it’s a Throw Back Thursday on a day that ain’t a Thursday. Back to March of 2020 to Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al”, back in my earlies of this sort of thing. Always liked this one. One of my faves and one of my best as far as that goes.
/////////////////////////////////////////
March 7, 2020
After coming downstairs yesterday morning, grabbing a seat across from the couch and picking up little Spanky, the now, unfortunately, one eyed Pirate of a dog in my lap I said to Celie “Arrrggghh (pirate talk) and be alright, but after I be getting home tonight, a bit late after some time in my little studio to be a’fixin’ a few things on my latest shantie, I’ll be but hunkering down for the weekend”
(I stole the thought of the “be’s” and the pirate talk from a brilliantly funny story I recently read at The New Yorker. Learning The Ropes by Simon Rich. A fantastic story. You may have the time now, so take a moment. It be well worth it).
Celie: Corona?
Me: Yeah.
Celie: Stop and Shop in the morning?
Me: Well, except for that. Then Yeah.
Celie: Get cat food, litter, beer, seltzer and small Steve food?
Me: Of course, though no beer. Too early. I’ll be going down when they open at 6. Less people. I’m also all set in the beer regard anyway. Staple already stocked. And then no human contact other than that nice woman who works Saturday mornings there … I want to call her Grace but that’s not it … it’s shorter … Kay maybe. … or Gay … her and possibly that other woman who may pop by to not need to bag my stuff.
Celie: So, just a regular weekend?
Me: Hey! … it’s a hunkering … waaay different thank you Ms Smartypants.
Celie: Gotcha.
Well maybe my well honed skills at being anti-social will work in my favor during all this. Tell the universe I didn’t say that out loud by the way.
I did though fix up and finish my latest tune, adding a few soundbites as well as changing the “na-na’s”.
Changing the “na-na’s?’ Now that sounds kinda funny.
I was a “na-na” on the initial “na-na’s”?
A man lies as he breathes He says why would you trust another now Who can you possibly trust Now I’ve shown you what my facts is A fascist truth sledgehammer Nuthin’ else believe-able matters Other than this con in this con man’s swamptown
(and a-oooh ah-oooh)
Lap dogs in orange swamplight Here’s a lie-ball GOP go fetch excuses
Newsman, newsman Get these facts away from me, ya know, No one finds real truth interesting anymore
If you’ll loyalty me blind I can be your despot chum I can call you subject And subject you adore me You can call me Czar
This man original Trumper says There can never be a never me If there’s a never me they’ll never be Happy in a sea of me Where will the answers come from If I don’t truly be-lieve Who will I turn to when The truth slaps me Awake and awake To the harsh realities Of Moscow Mitch’s word marble hypocriteness Hammers and sickles Getting stocked up in the open Along with some of the finest cossack hats
If you’ll loyalty me blind I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring I can call you subject And subject you adore me You can call me King You can call me King
(break)
A man late night he’s tweeting How he’s a victim in this world Maybe it’s a big blue meanie world Where they’re just out to get him And they don’t see his genius Or see how great he his The greatest all narcissists Surrounding himself with nothing more than Clowns clowns Who dance for him like marionettes In a tiny orange circus
He checks the mirror again Sees Messiah staring back at him At least that’s what the hacks say And he so believes them
If you’ll loyalty me blind I can be your despot chum I can call you subject And subject you adore me You can call me Don
Na-na-na-na-na Just call me king-na-na You can kiss my ring na-na Na-na-na-na-na-na-na Loyalties the thing na-na Better never sing na-na I’ll take your everything na-na Na-na-na-na-na-na-na
DeSantis administration rejects AP African American course for Florida High Schools
“It is inexplicably (laugh – lotta syllables – surprise) contrary to Florida law and significantly lacks educational value” (because it’s not possible to purposely devalue even more)
“In the future, should the College Board be willing to come back to the table with lawful, historically accurate (funny) content, FDOE will always be willing to reopen the discussion” (because being “lawfully AND historically accurate” is ripe only for our interpretation, not discussion, in our alternate version of history … and note “lawful” again … there will be repercussions if not …)
So, with little Dictator in waiting’s latest and even more brazen de-humanizing admonishment of anyone who dares attempt to allow any other than the chosen have an identity and a history, especially a one that doesn’t comply with his continued whitewashing take on such (we gots laws and such now in this great state of sunshine ignorance) I thought to this one from August of last year.
It’s not much, doesn’t cover this in particular per se, but has it’s moments, just a ditty, a ditty that says a little ditty thing about a ditty little thing, about a thing, about a person who is a grave danger to us all.
Not my usual if not a parody tune in this regard, as I try to stay away from straight up commentary. No one reads that shit here, it’s too easy, and too dull. Occasionally though …
Recent GOP House timeline
Pre mid-terms : chomping at the bit for a red wave that will usher in some actual governing from a party that generally avoids such a thing, possibly taking control of both houses. (temperature: giddy, if that were a temperature)
Post mid-terms: nurse wounds from a new found non-existent red wave that just leaves asses chafed and chapped but still chomping at the bit to actually do some governing now after a narrow victory though not really knowing exactly how anymore as governing is not their “thing” just obstruction and not condemning any of the dangerous and bigoted rhetoric of their members. (temperature: daffy … that’s actually a real temperature it seems)
Having one guy try to endlessly elect himself speaker of the House that will now finally allow them to start to govern, even though they have been turning a blind eye to such for years but telling you that they could do it better than anyone ever in the history of ever (words probably borrowed from a friend):
Try #6 – Jim Jordan has been nominated and that seems almost sane in the most insane way. Some bigwig nutter on Twitter with a ton of followers even has recently tweeted that he is the most trustworthy member of Congress, the shower kids surely agree.
Try #7 – still no worries, just trying to get our fu … ducks in a row
Try #8 – zzzzz
Try #9 – zzzzz
Try #10 – zzzzz
Try #11 – America? You still awake? This is Democracy in action. What can be more Democratic than being able to continue voting until you get your desired result?
Try #12 – zzzzz
Try #13 – zzzzz
Try #14 – No, seriously you can bounce me at any time with just one vote of any of the bloc or another against me, can use my house at any time, no warning, just show up, you can even use it as a stepping off point for transporting minors across state lines if need be. It’s a really nice house, she’ll love it.
Try #15 – Success!! “I hope that one thing is clear after this week: I never give up … My father always told me: It’s not how you start or how much you embarrass and subjugate yourself along the way. It’s how you finish and make that phone call to Florida. “It’s a Kevin, says you know him, will you accept the charges?” We have got to finish strong for the American people (as long as they are rich).”
Finally in charge with the slimmest of margins the first order of business is to block the dollars in new IRS funding without actually looking at how that funding is to be spent, or NOT spent, or over what period of time, or why, no, just headline theatre damning the torpedoes of billions added to the deficit over same period of time, we are the fiscally responsible ones after all, trust us, while sending a message to rich friends that we will do everything we can to allow you to keep cheating on your taxes even though that’s not what this is about.
Announce an investigation into the definition of false equivalencies, and documents equated, which you would think having been used so often in the recent past that it wouldn’t need be defined but equivalencies has a LOT of syllables, shit’s tough, so the correct definition is vitally important. Instead, it shall now be defined as “I know what you are but what am I …”
Promise to investigate investigations into the investigators and how investigations came to be investigations and how those investigations were investigating things we didn’t want to be investigated unless of course we are the ones investigating. Oh, and laptops, laptops are coming. don’t forget laptops (and wistfully remembering her emails … man, the good ol’ days).
Declare Jan 6 a new national holiday. Patriots day.
Roll back the ban against smoking on Capitol Hill.
Frankenberry’s latest thriller “Apartment” is a riveting discourse into the nature of …
Dude?! …
What? …
You know this isn’t a movie right? …
Shut up … a riveting discourse into the nature …
Seriously dude, it’s not a film, it’s just you sitting and repeating the word riveting …
… a riveting discourse into …
Ok, never mind, I’m out …
A riveting discourse into the nature of …
Hey one more thing …
What?! …
You know … whatever, fuck it …
… a riveting discourse into the nature of face plants with cats and Sundays the documentary (Rotten Tomatoes avg score 87% audience score 98% … screw you you heartless 2%) …
Been wanting to do a read of this one for an audio post for a while now as it is one of my fave posts … well at least until I find another to do a read of that will then become one of my fave posts.
This one is from two years ago now. Miss ya Memes.
Stink Bug
Noun
any of numerous broad, flat bugs of the family Pentatomidae, that emit a disagreeable odor.
any of various other malodorous bugs.
Frankenberry
Dude
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 a fan of my apartment, and me, and I’m guessing some of you might be able to relate.
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, but there is never a time where there aren’t at least a couple to be found hanging around somewhere in this place, doin’ Stink Buggy stuff, which is generally just that, hanging around, on or in or under things and usually found with a bit of surprise. Now 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? I don’t know, 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 … or hearing 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, for example, so when I do come across a Stink Bug on it I can’t be overly upset and just resort to a, you know, willy nilly lobbing of killings at all Stink Bugs. It’s what they do. Ya leave an anything hanging too long, some rogue Stink Bug gonna 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 kinda way, then giving a pet and a wink to my little Bella and being quiet so as to NOT wake up Cricket the Blind, that’s when the meowling and counter clockwise circles pacing starts if you do, I began cleaning up after 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). Then it was to filling some cat bowls with some cat food, get a plate of some Steve food ready and get changed into some comfies all before I made my way to the bathroom for my evening … ummm … my evening make way to the bathroom.
When I was finished with this 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 just 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 brain to your buttocks?
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.
Then, light bulb! (save my thoughts light bulb please).
I had just put on a long sleeve T-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, with 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 T-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 Bugs & 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 are good for now my friend. 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 very uncomfortable at the thought.
////////////////////////////////////////
Yesterday morning, after a stand up from my … uhhhhh … make way to the bathroom in the morning pre-shower a something fell to the floor between my heels. Again. And 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. Now 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. But, at least it just stayed there, it sat, all hairy and maybe worrisome but, it 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 new agreements might need to be reached though with laundry fluff.
Thought to another Stevie & Tommy & Billy thing this weekend, them trying to redeem themselves by dropping their ill-gotten robbery loot at a community center for the kids at Christmas, but of course in the middle of the night and with an unexpected hitch.
When I got home on Thanksgiving Eve and got sneaks kicked off, got catz and hooman fed and gotz myself settled into the sweats that I was going to wear until Friday morning (I joyously, or should I say thankfully, didn’t go anywhere for Thanksgiving) I downloaded a couple of older posts in the Attic that I had read at the end of the day and emailed to myself with the intention of cleaning them up for Audio Posts only to discover that I didn’t like my read on either of them.
They were too fast, and no matter how much I tried to convince myself that “Hey, Steve, they’re just fine man, you can use them” I just couldn’t. That was disappointing as I love having something to edit, or a new intended thought to write when I can be an idiot and stay up far too late knowing I’m off the next day. And I can be a REAL idiot in this regard. Like sometimes even a not realizing I haven’t been to bed till the next afternoon kind of idiot.
But with no new edits or new words coming I just went to MLB and DK Pittsburgh Sports to see if there were any new news to report for the Bucco’s in Hot Stove action land, I checked my fantasy basketball and football teams, went to Facebook etc etc yadda yadda blah blah to basically just PC putz and see if anything WOULD come now that I had relaxed and was comfortably hunkered.
Then I came across a Facebook post from a friend, Linda, who is cat folk, like me, along with her husband with a few running around their stead doing all cat stuff and such and her post was a picture of the very handsome Patrick on a spot next to a pretty Christmas tree decoration with a post quote that said, simply, “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Patrick”.
I got a real laugh out of that but then, I of course sang, in my head, as I was compelled to, as surely anyone who read the post was compelled to, the next line in a Patrick version of “It’s Beginning To Look A Like Christmas” and then another and another until I said “Oh shit, just open up a blank document already dude and get to work and have a bit of fun”.
A few hours later, after following along with Bing over and over and over again, I had a full Patrick take done.
I then replied to Linda’s post with “Ok, so you do know that dropping “It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick” is like dropping the gauntlet to a to a crazy cat lady guy who likes to do this sort of thing right?” while I posted her my new lyrics along with the YouTube Bing Crosby for her to follow along with.
This garnered me a reply of “Wow! I have to say I am very impressed my friend! THAT is AWESOME!!” which brought me such a smile, and with caps and everything and even a “We Are Not Worthy” Wayne and Garth Gif! I know, a Wayne and Garth Gif huh??!! Hey, your envy is not very becoming, just be happy for a fella will ya?!
I thought during the day earlier today though that I couldn’t just leave it at the lyrics and a follow along with Bing now could I and when I checked? There was a usable karaoke version of the tune that was just waitin’ for me and my little studio before leaving for the day. I just had to right?
So anyway, long story long.
Cheers Linda … and Patrick
It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Patrick
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Everywhere Pat goes
Take a look in his snug cat bed laying his Patrick head
With maybe a mouse or two un-der his toes
—
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Fur on every rug
Till the monster is need brought out
To suck away all hair’s clout
While Patrick runs no doubt
—
An extra can can of food or some cat nip for mood
Is his wish as any cat would
Ball with a bell and a knock it to hell
Is new wish across some hardwood
—
And Mom and Dad do funny dance to not step on cat’s pants
—
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Everywhere Pat goes
—
There’s a tree that is soon to rise
Each branch a new cat prize
The hanging kind just waiting for a fall
—
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Snoozing underneath
And what brings that slumber best
Are the lights not put to test
With Christmas cats now at rest
— (break)
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Runnin’ cross the floor
To every cat’s Christmas dream
And the presents that will be
Box torn paper all a-skew
—
Sure it’s Patrick once more … time to puke, time to puke it’s Patrick’s time to puke.
A while ago, back in September of 2020, I had this small story of a heist gone awry rattlin’ around my head and I thought, well, how about putting it to tune? Maybe an instrumental from our production site at work. It just had to be something fast, a little manic. So, thus, my first attempt at doing such a thing (I’ve done a few others since) grabbing an instrumental and writing some lyrics to it. I will say, along with some added production elements for the theatre of it, that I thought it came out pretty nice in the telling of the story of the voice (who I will call Stevie – I know I’m so creative and original that way) and his friend Tommy and Stevie’s little brother, Billy.
Well recently, at the same site, in my search for something for a work commercial spot, I came across a bed that caught my ear, a short, bluesy rockin’ thing with a cool hook. So I thought to another new tune and, while I was at it, another tune in the world of Stevie and his pal Tommy, drunk at a bar … and with twins.
Some fun and some shit that just makes me happy.
I also repurposed an opening from one of my parody tunes going back a ways just because I can and because it makes me laugh.
Twin Vision
Tommy said wanna ask that one to dance
I said good luck but you knows you ain’t a chance
I said I wanna ask that one to dance
Tommy said back off I was first to glance
—
She’s looking at me, no she’s looking at you
She’s looking at you, no she’s looking at me
—
Now don’t make this another throwdown
Fightin’ over girl another go round
Cause I’ve owned you since k-town
Grab another beer and just go sit down
—
She said they want one of us to dance
Me or you they’ve only half a chance
She said we’re mean but it’s fun so give a glance
Ok your turn let’s put them on their pants
—
They don’t know it’s me, they don’t know it’s you
They don’t know it’s you, they don’t know it’s me
—
We really gotta stop playin’ this game
Momma she would be so angry plum ashamed
But this is how she grabbed Pa back in days
And Aunt Millie twin she did the same
—
Tommy am I think I might be seein’ two
Tommy said no drunk it ain’ta just you
Are there two one girl at table here
I don’t know man but I ain’t so clear
Just sit down boys let us buy you a beer
For Mom and Aunt Millie and a night be dear
—
Now how’s about’s by chance would you two like to dance?
From a Facebook memory that popped up at the end of last week from 5 years ago and Gray sitting on the cable box next to the television and a Christmas commercial.
The post then from Nov 11, 2017 said: “Grayson has his eye on a new Hess truck this Christmas and a slightly more plush butt warmer”
This was from my share of that memory for Gray who passed away suddenly, heartbreakingly in the middle of the night the following summer in our new apartment. He did at least get a chance though to enjoy all the new windows of this place and all the new cat TV they afforded:
Grayson the Mighty from the old spot in Hyde Park.
Miss ya and your crunchy paper forts and grabbing my ankles from underneath with surely, in your large cross eyed noggin, a little Gray giggle, miss ya wrestling around and chasing with Bella on and off counter top and table and couch runnings and jumpings like loud tiny elephants (if elephants jumped on and off counter tops and tables and couches while running and being tiny and loud) for the neighbors bemusement below, miss ya on your little cat tower looking out the porch sliding door from our third floor over your former holdings when you were a scrawny outside stray cat land baron before agreeing to come inside and be my (our) friend, miss ya keeping me warm and you close on my arm on cold nights with sweats and long sleeves when it was just the three of us in the bedroom and our friend space heater for when I couldn’t afford to use the criminally expensive whole apartment’s electric heat. I miss … damn Gray, I just miss ya kid.
(though I didn’t swing for the Hess Truck that Christmas 5 years ago I can’t tell you the joy this crazy cat lady guy got out of you almost immediately putting your new cat bed to use)
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Raspberry (Razzy), Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Sundarbans,The sunderbans, Sundarban Tour, Sundarban Travel Guide, Mangrove Forest, UNESCO World Heritage Site, Royal Bengal Tiger, Tiger Sighting, Wildlife Photography, Bird Watching, Sundarban Safari, Houseboat Tour, Ecotourism, Adventure Travel, West Bengal Tourism, Bangladesh Tourism, People of Sundarbans, Local Culture, Bonbibi, Mowal, Honey Collector, Sundarban Legends, Mangrove Ecosystem, Conservation, Climate Change, Biodiversity, Sundari Tree, Sundarban Itinerary, Travel to Sundarbans, Kolkata to Sundarbans, Sundarban Boat Trip, Wildlife in Sundarbans, Saltwater Crocodile, Spotted Deer, Indian Python, King Cobra, Sundarban National Park, Sundarban Tiger Reserve, Bay of Bengal, River Cruise, Nature Photography, Forest Life.
A personal exploration of autism from a brother’s perspective, including family relationships, philosophy, neuroscience, mental health history and ethics
frankenberrysattic.com 