The Frankenberry Synchronized Cat Laying Team: Bella Joins Forces

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

Mimi & Cricket synchronized laying

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

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

“I saw that attempted once … Duluth, at the semi’s …” marveled Fluffernutter (Fluff for short – or Nutter depending on weird cat shit) who’s We Cra-Cra for the Cat Lay-Lay team placed in those semi’s “… but it was a disaster, especially for Sir Meowalot. I remember it like it was yesterday whenever that was. Meowalot’s team All Day Cat Lay had really been laying a clinic for all of us but then he and Snowball and Ms Whiska made the triple attempt. You could tell they were off from the start. Could it have been that errant red dot when one of the crowd accidentally dropped their laser pointer and it went off? Sure. Or that distant sound of a can of food being cracked backstage right at that very moment? Yeh, it’s possible. But whatever it was they just weren’t right. Snowball circled left, Ms Whiska right but not quite in rhythm, not together and poor Sir Meowalot got confused. He was supposed to just stay in the middle, be the balance, but he instead tried to go both right AND left, screwed himself all up and got a claw stuck in the carpet of the laying field. Then he just sat there with his stuck twisted claw while looking plaintively for help … painful to watch … especially when his human was slow to assist. The Cat Laying governing committee has since changed the laying field rules from exclusively carpet to an option of hardwood. It’s why team Frankenberry is so good and has such an advantage, they have the perfect training facility. I’m envious of that. Our carpeted training site is always being menaced … something about cat hair … by some noisy loud angry monster that sucks the quiet right out of the room and makes me hide under the couch. Apparently, Team Frankenberry’s training site only requires a kinder non-monster quiet sweep thing on a stick, though that’s gotta be difficult to try and hold yourself back from nosing the pile”

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

We’ll just have to see.

Training though, is going well.

Synchonized Cat Laying Team w Bella

We Let Billy Drive The Car

Ok, so this is taking what a friend said about writing something original, not that my parody tunes, lyrically, aren’t original, those are my angry though tuneful editorials but with thoughts and angers that are already written, in some regard, in the current news and it’s Orange lunacy. But something other than that. A different sort of parody. So an experiment here to see if I could put some words that were in my head about a little heist story to a tune I didn’t know, it just had to be fast, to go with the slightly manic idea that was rattling around up there.

 

 

Moved in fast

wanted to grab cash

Had an inside

point us to the stash

All gassed up

Had some cool masks

Famous baddies from

Old time gangster flicks

 

I was Cagney

Tommy was Edward G

No weapons though

Way too much the risk

Just a bluff

And the fear that goes with

Work the room posing threats

now that’s biz

 

Grab the loot scoot

Back door left ajar

Plan was ticking

Like a really expensive watch

Into the alley

Out of sight of cops

Billy couldn’t be far … right?

 

“Hey, where’s Billy?”

“I don’t know man”

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

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

“hey, you agreed man!”

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

 

Why’d we let Billy Drive the car

Mom always said he wouldn’t go very far

I wanted to just prove her really wrong

Was always singin’ the same ol’ tired song

told her the plan no guns and just commands

Protect Billy In the best way that we can

Give him the wheel and just wait out the plan

 

We lit on foot then

Tommy and me we ran

Plan had been rocking

But now we’re on the lam

With nothing even resembling a plan

Other than shucking and really ducking now

Hidin’ round corners

And peakin’ round some bends

Trying keep the coppers

From their ends

Cursing Billy to the hell he will attend

All in my head while we ran and ran and ran

Just tryin’ not to end up in the can

At least that’s if we had another plan

 

 

Why’d we let Billy Drive the car

Mom always said he wouldn’t go very far

I wanted prove her to be really wrong

Was always singin’ the same ol’ tired song

told her the plan no guns and just commands

Protect Billy In the best way that we can

Give him the wheel and just wait out the plan

 

We shouldn’t have let Billy drive the car

Tommy said that we wouldn’t go very far

Except the slammer that’s just right up the state

But poor Billy he just could never rate

To the ones who always judged the most

A lost cause on their paper notes

He’s the one they say see ya later to

And I had no couch for that

 

“Oh shit Tommy, tell me that can’t …”

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

 

“Billy, where you been?”

 

You were so right to let me drive the car

coppers been sent a little way out far

tripped an alarm at a different spot

an inside knew a perfect wild goose

At your plans on your wrist’s spot

Ticking along with your planned depart

I waited knowing just where your legs would stop

 

We were so right to let Billy drive the car

Tossed our masks and cash into the back

Cagney and Edward G they’d be so proud

And ode to gangster’s legends of the old

A new chapter maybe in that gangster ode

Of Tommy and me a new story be told

A one to finally make my momma proud

Of when we let Bill-lee drive the car

Of when we let Billy drive the car

Clock

One of the lessons I learned in college, one that has stayed with me, with my poetry then in those angst filled and overly dramatic days, though I haven’t been poetic in quite some time, is write of what may be just right in front of you, even if it’s just a thing. Wrote one years ago of my Dad’s cracked coffee mug. It was a simple well worn and cracked coffee mug but it was his, had his imprint, marbled brown and warm even before being filled and it sat on the kitchen counter every night waiting for the start of another his day. I’m sure he would have loved to take it with him, probably tried to on messy lap irritation occasion, maybe that’s where the crack from, a time before our now covered easy tumblers. But the writing of that mug and that simplicity opened a world of words for me. Just write what’s in front of you. A just a thing? Why not? No imagining your words greater than they are. I’d like to think that that “just what’s in front of you” is reflected in some of what have done since. I try, often, only to write of simple well worn and cracked coffee mugs.

Clock

Just a thing.

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

It’s one of the first things I remember about Mom and Dad and a trying to teach me of stuff, back when clocks were something you looked to to give you reference to when you were. “Stephen … the small hand is here, the big hand is there …”. I can never look at a clock without a Mom and Dad thought or a cracked coffee mug that kept it’s own Dad time.

Those are the best of thoughts.

Just a thing.

The Jonna Show Theme Song

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

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

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

The theme song for the Jonna Show.

Gotta have a bit of fun if you can right?

 

Jonna’s back home after years on her own

Nance & John happy after their bird had flown

Back in her old room

posters still up

Of boys that were a cause to just swoon

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

 

Jonna’s back home her own house is a mess

Remodeling disarray causing much stress (scream)

She thought then move back with the rents

Temporary sure but with Momma food scents

She’ll just need remember live when in Rome

But what could go wrong with moving back home?

 

They’d of course get along

Her single habits they wouldn’t grow long

No Jonna wardrobe mishaps would occur

her raccoons though they will miss her

 

Nance won’t ask of margarita again

Or glasses of wine where she never says when

Or helping with the garbage

But in outfits to send

Young boys round the bend  

  

Jonna’s back home after years on her own

Nance & John happy after their bird had flown

Jonna’s thankful to avoid all the stress

Of that house of hers being a mess

And timelines that will most surely get stretched (scream)

 

Nance & John won’t now be alone

Cause their Jonna, she’s back home!

Slow Vistas

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

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

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

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

Slow Vista lawn #3

Slow Vista lawn #2

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

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

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

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

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

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

(an echo in a hall)

Donnie: Hello? Hello? Supreme here? Hello?

(Benfred right on his hip)

Benfred: Yes sir?

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

Benfred: I didn’t sneak up on you

Donnie: What?!

Benfred: I didn’t sneak up on you

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

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

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

Benfred: Am I missing something?

Donnie: You don’t know?

Benfred: Know what sir?

Donnie: Really?

Benfred: No, what sir?

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

Benfred: Unrest?

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

Benfred: Unrest sir.

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

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

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

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

Donnie: Really?

Benfred: Really.

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

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

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

Benfred: Speech?

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

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

Donnie: You’re keeping my calendar now?

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

Donnie: Distracted?

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

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

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

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

Benfred: Thank you sir

Donnie: So, who is my 3?

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

Donnie: I’m supposed to remember things?

Treehouse doorbell

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

Willliam the Low Barr:  Bill?

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

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

Benfred: Yes sir, hands up and open.

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

Benfred: Thank you sir.

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

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

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

Benfred: Ahhh, you know how he loves his flowers

Willliam the Low Barr:  I do. So pretty

(reaching the sunroom)

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

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

Willliam the Low Barr: (glare)

Benfred: … Sir Willliam the Low Barr is here.

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

Willliam the Low Barr: You have a 3?

Donnie: Apparently

Willliam the Low Barr:  Who is that?

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

Benfred: Hold on sir.

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

Benfred: Sorry sir, useless water … my bad.

Donnie: Who is my 3?

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

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

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

Willliam the Low Barr: Better

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benfred: Hey, I can just leave the room

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

Benfred: Stature?

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

Benfred: I’m with ya, too much

Donnie: How do I look?

Willliam the Low Barr: Orange and imposing.

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

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

D.I.Y. Time Suspend With Friends

Just got off another Zoom call with some of my dearest of friends from my Waynesburg College days, friends who I consider lifelong, even though they aren’t technically “life long”, as I have a few others from years before them when High Schooling, wanting to hold hands with the right girl but being embarrassed at such, playing baseball and then stickball when those baseball dreams became just dreams, Monty Pythoning or D & D’ing in a nice finished basement room. Thank you Mrs Carlin.

But these three hit at my core, Lori the smart and pretty, Tom the stoic, Mark the informed though not that any of these qualities are exclusive by the way, they share them all, other than Tom and Mark being pretty of course. Sorry guys. Something about lipstick and pigs.
We talked.

And talked … and talked some more for almost 3 hours and not of old school remembrances, stories rehashed too many times though those have their moments.

No, we talked current as that is all there is. Our fears of the direction things are heading. Remembering is nice but that just throws you back to a time you can’t return to, however much you may wish you could. It’s a melancholy I just don’t need.

No, you have to be current and aware.

Now there aren’t any positives to be taken from a Pandemic obviously, no matter how much we try. Maybe some folks have found a way to be more human, to help out, to give the other guy a hand but it shouldn’t take a pandemic to do that. If that’s not in your nature to do so, well, I can’t help ya. Maybe a pandemic woke you up and if that’s the case good for you. I’m all for trying to find silver linings but we still live in fear.

Lori has issues of concern and I have some as well. There’s no cavalier here, no nonchalance. We wear masks and we muddle.

But 3 hours with old friends can suspend time.

One silver lining? We never would have considered this if not.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – “American Sigh” – Song

Short minutes can be the longest of things if they’re not good minutes, they can be interminable. Long minutes can fly if they ARE good minutes. I’d like to think that these 8 minutes are the latter. But that’s not for me to decide … though I do hope you agree.

Anyway, here’s an attempt at American Pie.

 

American Sigh

A long red time ago

Repubs may not remember

When they had some semblance of a soul

But now it seems they’ll gladly send               

That semblance out into the wind

To lapdog satisfy their orange sin

 

It’s shameless propaganda now

Reminding time of where we how

Vowed it’s return to not allow

After we thought we’d learned just how

 

It’s dark and lie filled but with a glint

A knowing smirk aware lie’s tint

Care not for truth knowing you’ll not blink

The day Democracy dies

 

So, bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

The goal now is hold us back

To use any underhanded tack

Destroy the mail or employ law’s hack

Or maybe send guns to man the polls

Claim integrity protec-ting the rolls

Even declare a win in possible defea-ea-eat

 

Now if you believe in great leader’s lies

If you think there are no foreign ties

You surely believe too

That he cares for a me and a you

That he’s not trying to suppress the vote

That he’s only trying uphold his oath

But it’s a one he just made to self

While seein’ democracy die

 

And I’m singin’ bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

For four dumbing years he’s been tryin’ to sow

A discontent help divide to grow

And doesn’t care what is the toll

He leans on loyalists while skirtin’ the rules

Knowing in the Senate he has the tools

That will submit with joy that they’re all just foo-ools

 

He’ll even pretend messianic grace

Holds a thing with words smoke in our face

A Low Barr surely grinned

At his words peace it then was burned

And while lies come at a furious clip

Our intelligence it continues to dip

And we sing laments to truth in the dark

As we watch Democracy die

 

I keep on singing bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

Now death still comes at a steady pace

Since Trump declared straight to our face

This was nothing and would go away

But the problem here is this interfered

Self interest ruled and he was a’feared

Of keeping place so what of people’s tea-earrs?

 

So discrediting it soon began

The truth of science sent on the lam

It was all just a Fauci scam

Despot playbook played and ran

 

So great leader thought to change the rules

To take away some important tools

To fudge numbers or to just disclude

While watching Democracy die

 

We all are singing bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

Ooohhh and now we stand on the edge of fate

While dealing with an unbounded hate

Of any truth that doesn’t rate

The trump dumb down it takes it’s toll

My own head a mess atop the atoll

This orange devil just might be our death kno-oll

 

We’ve heard him now in his tweeted rage

Or instead a whine meant set the stage

For an outcome of the age

That might not fit his gauge

 

He’ll burn this all down now if he can

Not caring of just what that might bring

To anyone who doesn’t sing

The day Democracy dies

 

We need be singin’ bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

I met a truth who sang the blues

Seemed there wasn’t any happy news

It packed it’s bags and then turned it’s back

I watch now as truth walks away

A slow trudge feet stuck in swamp’s clay

A stuck that is now so hard to esca-a-ape

 

And in the streets pro-tests still reel

Injustice tryin’ to make us feel

But Orange won’t allow that

Paints as anar-chy’s bat

 

And the three men Trump admires most

Himself, himself and he as host

Conduct a train called Realities Ghost

And ride while democracy dies

 

Bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

And I am singin’ bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

 

I Would Have Been A Shitty Cowboy

So, I just tried to do a little cow wrangling.

(Later)

So, I just proved to be not very good at trying to do a little cow wrangling.

One of the joys of living where I do for the last, almost 3 years now, is that there aren’t a lot of uninteresting days, or should I say, there aren’t a lot of days where something isn’t happening, where numerous dogs aren’t dogging or even more numerous cats aren’t catting, where horses aren’t horsing or a host of baby furry things aren’t baby furry thinginging, where a single attention seeking bird isn’t birding loudly or cows aren’t cowing or where, speaking of the latter, something unexpected doesn’t pop up like, say, looking out my window here at my PC chair and seeing one of the cows leisurely munching away at new found front yard grass. Innocent it seems right? If I were a cow new found front yard grass would be a bonus, right in my cow wheelhouse. But the reason this is unexpected is that said cow SHOULDN’T be in the front yard leisurely munching on his new found grass as that means he’s NOT cowing with his pals behind the confines of the fence. But the gate was closed with his four pals all properly cowing as they should. And this is the second time this week that the normal cowing wasn’t in the script for this particular one. He’s a regular Cow-dini just minus the chains and straightjacket.

Now look, I can see small things slipping past whatever their confines may be, a puppy through a just wide enough fence (hello Georgia as a wee one), a kitten from a temporary cage maybe or any other baby furry from the same that gives them just enough space to liquid body transform squeeze or inventive little raccoons who really are bandits that know how to escape anything. But this is a cow. A  COW. Small? Not quite a cow’s gig.

It’s not like it’s suddenly going into cartoon mode, thinning itself and stepping stretched out cartoony elongated cow legs, one at a time, gingerly trying not to touch the barbed wire while it takes these steps like in some sort of cow game of Operation to freedom.  

It’s a real life cow.

So I tried. Threw on my at the kitchen door emergency when emergencies arise ratty old now slip on sneaks and headed out, shirtless in my haste (I don’t use AC so I’m usually shirtless at this time of year). Thankfully it was just me that was home, no one needs to see this glaringly bright white Casper shirtless ass in droopy shorts believe me, and grabbed a bag of anything that will make a food shaky shake rattling of the bag sound (cat food in this case) in hopes that that would attract the errant one.

He raised a single ear … for like a second, then a “whatever”. His four pals? “Oh shit, dude’s got a food shaky shake rattling bag sound goin’ on here” as they all converged. If any one of these four had been the wanderer I would have been golden. But, of course, not my tan friend.

I’m kind of glad that no one was around though, especially Matt, Celie’s son, as, if he had been home and seen me out his bedroom window making these wrangling attempts, he would have surely found viral video gold, with a speed up and added Benny Hill music edit at my frustrated back and forth’s with the big fella. Well, old guy would have to explain to him the whole Benny Hill music bit of course but still. The only thing missing from this would have been a slapstick element of me slipping exaggeratedly, feet flying up in the air, in a big dropping of cow poop.

The best part is? All of this was kind of in a comedic pastoral slow motion, a slow urgency if you will. Cows can be quick when they want to be sure, as was the case here in spurts, but for the most part it’s a meandering, a head down quiet munch and me just being a bother. Trying to convince Mr Errant of returning to the cows cowing fold by opening the gate, but not being able to actually open the gate as I would have liked to lure him in without the four following out that could have turned this into a completely different comedy of errors made it difficult. Came close though, just a couple of feet at one point before he ran off … again.

And, I’m not a Celie. I’m not Cow Mom. She’d get this down in a second.

Phone call made to her then for the aware and to hear that surely the Tan would just continue in this meandering search of new found grass into the evening for when she comes home. Not to worry.

I would have been a shitty cowboy. Plus the hat, though cool through all the year’s time spent watching it star in movie’s and however many gallons would be needed to accommodate my big ass noggin, just isn’t quite my style. I couldn’t pull it off with the easy cool panache of a say, Jimmy Stewart. No, just give me a ballcap. A ballcap with a prominent gold “P” of course.

Saturday

Ok, an in look you didn’t ask for but I’m providing anyway. Feel free to check out now, I’ll understand.

What is a Frankenberry evening/weekend after leaving the gig on a Friday?

It’s a peer up “Hello Memes!”, at Mimi the Quirky, usually at the top of the stairs with an old lady smoker’s sounding meow, a one that rasps the impatience she’s been feeling since hearing me come home, a come home not quite quick enough to the downstairs door and walk up the stairs as she would like though and she reminds with this rasp.  A Cricket, walking blind circles in front of the fridge, head Stevie Wonder rollin’, maybe even a hearing challenged circles these days as well, but somehow always knowing that I’m home and waiting alongside Mimi. A sudden scared jerk at a hand to her head “hey girlfriend” and then a 180 to a comfort flop and a belly rub. And a Bella, patiently waiting on her square of flattened crunchy paper just inside the apartment knowing an under chin rub is coming, maybe even a sideface scratch or an ear rub of a Pirates cap brim if I can bend down enough. Gettin’ old ya know. This bend down shit is getting tougher now.

After a clean up, usually of Cricket’s Cricketness, a hardwood sweep of back kicked litter, a dump of water from the two water bowls sitting in pools around them on the rubber mat underneath now (Cricket treats water bowls as kiddie pools, splashing most of the water out before taking a couple of moments to lick off her paws, her way of drinking, sometimes with both front paws in what’s left of the water), a clean of the food bowls from the morning and it’s dinner time.

Then, it’s Steve dinner, something reheated, something convectioned unfrozen with garlic, onion and lemon pepper spices and a hot sauce, or something foiled unwrapped, the other half of a sandwich from lunch maybe as it’s always important to try and get two meals out of whatever it is that you’ve bought and planned to eat. Gotta justify the cost.

When I finally get myself set, and indulge bad habit empowered shared bits of my dinner with Cricket and the Memes, I look for anything I can find on the cable for my brief before a few words at the PC. If I’m home early enough I can catch the second half of a “Blue Bloods” repeat on WGN, depending on the day followed by repeats of Tim Allen’s “Last Man Standing” (which I’ve found myself enjoying the shit out of lately) also depending on the day. On days where their sitcom repeats are things like “Married With Children” (the dumbest show ever) or “How I Met Your Mother” (never cared) I look to maybe instead jump into the middle of movies I’ve already seen in these channels between 50 and 60 or SyFy or BBC America. I just need a momentary distraction for the eats and Cricket doesn’t seem to mind my choices as long as that paper towel at her feet gives her the know at extra dinner.  It’s her accustomed feel. The paper step. Step step folded paper sniff sniff pieces eat eat

Does all of this sound pathetic? Sure. Do I care? Not in the least.

Tonight, my grab at something to just mindlessly watch while dinnering was halfway through “Pitch Perfect 2” (Got’s to love the Anna Kendrick, the cutest most wonderful thing, a wishing I was back in school and she was what caught my eye without her thinking I was weird). Cricket had some bits of the turkey meal I had grabbed at Price Chopper from their prepared stuff, I mean how can you can go wrong for 6 bucks, especially when you split it ‘em in two like I said, even if you could have easily eaten the whole plate in one sit? I thought to myself, with it being a Friday so I had time now, “Man, wouldn’t that be cool if there were a Pitch Perfect 3 following ?” And then there was. The silliest dumb-ass movie ever but with some wonderful tune scenes and some really new found likables. Should I be concerned that I know the story arc? He he. Maybe.

There a lot of things I’m not good at, a lot of things I really need to work on, a lot of things that just scream “Dude!!” get your shit together. But I know that the Anna Kendrick’s, bad movies, awful John Lithgow accents, the rememberings find me in a place where I kick back on a Friday night and not really thinking of that, a place where I find myself in a window of tomorrow is good as I get one more. So I’m Ok. Sunday will piss me off eventually, the knowing of a Monday closer now, but this is a Saturday that I so always hope will last and I know I can write a few words about days.

As a single not caring cat dude, other than my charges, I glory in the time spent without you, stringing words, unabashedly admitting to sometimes watching Lifetime things or Hallmark things or finding that flick, like now, between channels 50 and 60, even if it may be considered a chick flick out of the corner of my eye (I find it Ok to watch now from my computer chair, Shoes’s computer chair, to multi-task in a way, which I never could before, had to be a proper watching in the past, but a roll back now with remote in hand for the volume or not, movies that are so predictable that you can recite the dialogue before it happens, but that you find a comfort in, that tug a little bit, that maybe even bring an actual tear while I keyboard scribble amid this rolling back and forth. Here’s to hardwood floors and a roll.

From fat Amy “You crush it so hard that your nips tingle a bit”

Well, my “nips” may not be tingling, not at the moment anyway, surely for a completely different day and circumstance, but that is a Mantra huh?

Words are crushed, even simple ones here that don’t mean that much, other than to a you.