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.
Washed BB for only the second time in five years earlier this week. Dad used to say at his reluctance of car washes that it was only the dirt that was holding things together so I’ve gone with that. Gospel. He also just didn’t want to spend the money. Gospel twice. Said to one of the kids, of two, headphones squashing wild hair outside the exit with rags in hand, “All good on the wipe down dude, I’m just gonna go” and he smiled head bouncing little bounces to not out loud tunes, until I handed him a five spot. Cans off mid bounce … “Thanks”. It doesn’t sound like much I know, but I think it was commensurate with a six dollar car wash and it gave him and his pal a break of unnecessary rags with a still tip in hand.
“Holy crap, that’s what folks in my rearview look like?”
I only went through and splurged on the six bucks, yes splurged, with ya Dad (the fiver simply being what you do having surely been there done that) because I actually had a cash dollar in my wallet for the tip, not just “credit or debit?” and because I really no longer knew what cars in my rearview looked like. Really.
Plus, I wanted to get back to the house with a clean back window to apply the Pirates decal that had arrived in the mail at the station earlier in the day. Maybe they’ll get their shit/greed together so I can finally have a pitchers and catchers mental Spring soon but, until then, at least I’ll be prepared. Are there things that are more important? Of course. Are there things that are more important? No. Back windows and Pirate decals are huge. Gotta compete with annoying stick figure families somehow (though stick figure cats and dogs are pretty cute).
I had gotten an email notification while at work from that big place that sometimes goes into space to prove that size and the dollars that made it possible are uselessly meaningful in rich bald minds that a package had arrived. I was excited. My important back window had been lacking for so long of a new Pirates decal and I was feeling Christmas, or Valentines as it is around that time of year and you know I heart my Buccos.
When I went downstairs and checked the mailbox though, there wasn’t just a package from the bigger space dick, there was also a card along with all the magazines to not be read in the station’s empty waiting area. A red one. Christmas/Valentines indeed, even though no one sends cards anymore, to my mother’s diminishing sighs, but there was a one with my name on it, in the prettiest of hand written pen you ever will see. Some I’ve heard tell call it cursive but that’s close enough to make you think curses. Who uses language like that?!! So rude. Let’s ban it!!
I layed it down next to my keyboard to remind me to take it home like that one elementary school Valentine you held on to hoping it might be the one. Jenny? Really? Could it?
I like surprises and the anticipation of them, though I guess that partially defeats the purpose, but still I waited until I got home to my furry girls to open it.
It was ice cream! A gift card to the DQ! I love ice cream, like, who doesn’t love ice cream (unless you’re a weirdo living in your weirdo not liking ice cream weirdo kinda world) and it was enough ice cream to be TWO ice creams!
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I have this group of friends, I call them myMikey Six.Friends who call you back or actually don’t call you back but always have really good reasons for not doing so, so it’s alright, that I run stuff by without getting summarily dismissed and one of them has a Mom, Momma Piper, who cursives really well in her cursives or curses really well in her seeming cursing of cursives, or whatever, so confusing, who has designated herself my fairy godmother.
I’ve never had a fairy godmother. Ok, there was that one time at WVU where l wasn’t aware that the brownies weren’t your run of the mill brownies and that girl was soooo pretty … and purple … and had wings … and tried to eat my face and … no, not a fairy godmother at all. She was mean.
I have now though an actual fairy godmother. A one who’s not flying face eating mean purple and who sends me ice cream, in cards that no one sends anymore, red ones, like Christmas Valentines, like the Jenny that didn’t happen (apparently the card I held off to open until I got home wasn’t from her, it was just from Billy at the desk next to mine ’cause he thought it was funny – not funny Billy, not funny at all) but I’ll take it.
Hearts and Santa’s and spoons for a sundae, or two, to that.
My sis recently posted a new found picture of her and I and Dad, vintage 70’s, along with Grandma and Grandpa, the English ones, on a trip for them to see, first hand, exactly what their daughter had gotten herself into, two kids into the real and with a guy and his silly name, only so much so many hand written letters back and forth across far long waters with cool looking international postage stamps were going to do without the seeing and meeting of the actual.
A picture of a couch wannabe paisley’s gone awry, a glass topped coffee table, as could there be any other, one with an ashtray and a cigarette on hold and a toy truck in the same shot and a too big center piece that made no sense and just got in the way … always … as nonsensical center pieces seemed to have only that one job.
I rocked black socks and sneaks here, waaaay before fashion called it new cool and surely was just short black socked steps away from annoying the shit out of proper English Grandma, causing her to no doubt question her daughter’s decisions before a “Cheese”.
But Dad? This new found picture that English cousin Elizabeth came across is the first pic I’ve seen where I can put myself now and Dad then on a somewhat equal plane as I am comfortable with my current existence, as he seems here, even though I’m a few years older than he was in this shot, in his early 40’s.
You see, Dad was always old to me, not in a bad way of course, but he always just seemed to have years.
There are numerous pictures of him when he was younger, a good looking guy, even with that spot of gray always evident that would eventually take control of his whole head, he was certainly a guy who could catch an eye, and would catch an English one in our case, in a small Diner in Yorktown Heights, New York, courtesy of some machinations from his best of friend, Uncle Frank, but even those pictures, of his young, hold an old for me.
Here though he seems confident, secure, old looking but not one to worry of what that proper English Grandma might question of her daughter and her place with him. There’s a Steph (Stephen) and a Beck (Rebecca) and there would be a soon Nick (Dominic) and an always ugly couch in an our spot. A good ugly spot. He looks like he knows this was his, that he earned it or maybe I’m just projecting that into this new found picture as I know that that was the case.
His job at Social Security eventually wore him down for being too human in a place that asked him not to be, plus he wasn’t the teacher he wanted from that not quite degree put on hold, on hold, a great regret, oh to teach history, and then the cancer and this after being worn down earlier in life as the second man of the house for his younger brothers and sisters to help make ends meet along with Grandad who needed the assist to bring home some dollars comfort to Grandma and he was spent.
It’s difficult to not picture him in my mind carrying that tired but here, with a new found picture, years before those travails, Dad seems to know he was doing the Dad thing well or at least I imagine he thought so and was proud of it. He was doing the only thing that really mattered to him, no matter what may have been weighing, he was with his family, including a son who really was probably just minutes away from annoying the shit out of Grandma.
Something about pictures and thousands of words right Dad?
Picture
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And beck as to your way cute pigtails in this one? An old girlfriend years ago tried to give me a pig tail (s) once Beck, just for the silly of it, an almost early man bun kinda thing, like those black socks ahead of time, but for some reason I couldn’t pull them off like you.
Don’t know where the thought for this one came from, no, wait, I DO know where the thought came from, it came from the same spot most of my parody tunes/musical opinion pieces come from … our everyday madness and the surreal state of things where rational thought has been just completely discarded for welcomed authoritarian leanings and profound ignorance, or flat out lies and fascist style propaganda. But the thought of the Dave Matthews tune itself? It just popped in head one day and seemed a good place to fill in those thoughts.
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They wake up always grasping
At conspiracies of the big de-feat
That they say didn’t happen
Even with real truth so right-fully
Sitting
—
Tinfoil hats gleam in the sun
One powered by the big lying orange one
And they all walk the same line
Like drunken lemmings’ nose to ass that cliff is just fine
I gave Celie a call not sure if she were around to check and see if I could take Memes down to the shelter for a look, even if there were no Doc’s there, just a look, just a look from anyone other than me and my sudden worry where Sherry said she is a “special” girl has always been a “special” girl with quotes intended as to her issues, her quirky these issues as I thought of them, old quirky, my quirky, but with now some not quite quirky foaming around her mouth and eyes glazed, mouth wiped, again, again, a seizure of old special girls and phones answered with a tear and brought her back up to the apartment to see if maybe there might be a bounce back and we watched the Secret Life of Walter Mitty with Ben Stiller putting Mimi at my left hip, which is her spot, and imagined the rememberings of our own not quite Walter Mitty-like adventures, just simple apartment ones and of how much I liked this movie and so much love left hips.
Afraid of the encore right now though Memes, so afraid, but left hip. Still Memes, left hip.
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“C’mon Memes” and I patted the bed after a day done and a finally sat down waiting for my dinner to heat in the toaster oven while finding something, someone (s) on the tube to join me … well, along with Cricket the Blind who, with her seeming little cat braille wrist watch, always knows the time to lap from when I get home and putz about to when I sit down waiting for the toaster oven’s ding while my little Bella just looks on disapprovingly. I patted the bed and waited, as I always do, while Mimi thought and peered up and over and wavered and rocked back and forth, looked up at me for another pat of the bed and peered up and over again, wavered some more in her Mimi way until she took the small leap of bed faith to then triumphantly, well, as triumphantly as a Mimi can, ginger step around the comforter to grab her Steve and that left hip. This was her moment, the reward of another day waiting, all she’s ever really wanted after a pick up hello at the kitchen door and then me always feeling so awful when I have to move her aside, the simplest of lay downs, just a little, for a moment, to get up at a ding.
“Don’t worry Memes, be right back, plus we got wings tonight, you like wings”
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“Hey You!” as I made my way through Celie’s kitchen, after another day and a hello to Celie and the gang, to the living room and a “Hey You!” to a small old Siamese cat stretching, just woke, paws tappy tapping in that stretch and then an as fast straight legged fast as a Mimi can fast over to a me and my “Hey You!”
She knew the sound of my voice I guess, and would wake from her spot in the Sunroom just past the living room to make sure she got a “Hey You!” followed with a quirky, reluctant, “Ok, don’t know what I was thinking but do know what I was thinking” backing off on the pet, but not, and a licky lick at the air and then a pick up and a belly rub with more air licky licks.
I added “The Quirky” to her title for a reason.
Ok, before I repeat myself as I’m doing right now going backwards in time and revisiting some of what I’ve already written as life’s words can tend to do that, images, moments you’ve labeled with words that stick, remind, come back, repeat.
I’m just going to link instead to something I wrote of Mimi a year or so ago, on a night not unlike any other night, something from a different time that was a little brighter.
And something about the Memes and the gang that is, again, from a brighter time and proved how they could be my muses, sometimes for just some silly fun.
Sam came up the hill and up the stairs and she gave Memes a bit of a shot to ease the before and said she would give me some time and come back. Thank you Sam.
“I know it’s only been two and a half years with me upstairs here Memes but I’d like to think that maybe these were the best of your long years, some undivided attention, a bed’s TV left hip or a night’s pillow to share or a PC desk and a hip in a chair, with a guy who you adopted and held onto fiercely in your quirky, Mimi, old girl way.”
“And I don’t know where we go Memes, none of us do, some may tell themselves that they know … but they don’t … ” (and again I’m repeating myself from past things)
“Maybe though Mimi, there might be a place we go, where we all go, where I have a little apartment and we’re all together, all who have been with me, with really tall cat scratchers and stuffed mice with bells and those blueberry cat treats, and boundless left hips … oh, and windows with cat seats Memes, yeah windows, you so loved your windows too, gotsta have lots of windows.”
It’s cold. I hate cold. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. It’s a thing that makes me question every year where I live. Though it’s not a real cold, comparatively speaking, not a place where you could REALLY question where you live, places in videos that make you put on an extra layer or two or three and grab unnecessary mittens to wear around, even in a warm house, at just the view in your comfy where water is maybe thrown in the air to immediately be frozen in pretty air portraits wondering of how people can live like that, but it’s still cold here. And I still hate it. Just sayin’.
As I did my daily weather report, a one put in the can to run for a few evening hours for a little radio station here in the Hudson Valley, right before I left for the day, I noted that it would be single digits in the overnight along with the always dramatic DUM DUM DUM of wind chills dropping the temperature to imagined bone levels where we’re all gonna die.
Gotcha wind chill. Fuck you wind chill. Just tell me, me tell you what the temperature is gonna be, period. I’ll prepare and raise a collar and don my army surplus jacket that has me looking underpass smelling of Jack and sweat with a hood and extra pockets for hand warmer packets and double sweats for end of days if need be, no wind chill warnings necessary.
When I got home, looking forward to nothing other than being home on a cold night, as cold nights will have you, furry girls in their spots just past the top of the stairs, there was a little shelter guy who is new to the house downstairs for the moment, an acclimate to other dogs and some cats little fella who looks like he could use a salad, a little puffy puffer fish of a thing with a tiny dog head who yip yaps until, to his surprise, you give a little under chin scratch of attention. A one who didn’t know this warm. Yip yaps yawn.
It’s cold outside, but need salad dogs stop their yip and their yap with a sudden knowing.
“I gotcha little man, kinda nice this warm and the under chins huh? Now how’s about a bit of jog when things aren’t so cold? You’re lookin’ a little chunky my friend”
(plus I just called a post “Salad Dogs” … kinda cool)
Well, with all the end of year’s lists, retrospectives, the requisite long list quickie obituaries of people lost in 2021, which, if it were an honest list and not just the usual of passed celebrities, as if they are the only ones worth noting, would be way too massive an endeavor and just point out our failings, five reasons we won’t miss 2021, five reasons 2021 gives us hope in 2022 (yeah, that one’s a non-starter) the top ten’s, low ten’s, seven things just outside the norm or maybe turn it up eleven’s or even thirteen’s to tempt fate with a ‘fresh’ numbers take on the year end staid that has no ‘fresh’ take … ever … I thought well, maybe, I’ll jump on the staid bandwagon and go with my own year end take ’cause I got nothin’ right now.
Ok, sorry, not quite nothing, I did start something earlier about being at the Dollar General in Wappingers Falls to buy candles and vitamins and duct tape (yes, my main intent and no, I’m not planning anything weirdly creepy, though it might come out nicely in a film) when I noticed at the last second an older, slow moving seeming tired woman whose winter hat was winter huddled down just a little too close to her eyes below her eyebrows, a one whose cart looked the only thing holding her up as she rolled up behind me on line with only a few items.
Now, could I have pulled my stuff from the belt before it started getting rang? Yes. But I already had the candles and the duct tape down with the vitamins on the way and of course, all the “yeah I could use that too” impulse buys that can happen at a place like Dollar General, things you didn’t realize you needed until just then but might work well in a movie as props (not a “Dollar Store” mind you, think a mini-Walmart with better prices and less interesting internet pics).
I was also being lazy and selfish and I just wanted to be done for the day after an early let go from work but, in my head, as my candles and vitamins and duct tape and “yeah I could use that too” Dollar General impulse buys were being rung in front of this tired looking woman I kicked myself for being an asshole.
“There’s an old bent over a cart tired looking woman with a too huddled eyebrow hat who you could have let go in line before you, you asshole. And I think you even parked your car next to her year’s lined husband in the parking lot who looks like he could just really use, might even be, taking a nap”.
Then my debit card didn’t work, again, came up declined though there is plenty there in the account to cover candles and vitamins and duct tape and possible weirdly creepy things (the movie teaser will be out next week) and “yeah I could use that too” impulse buys, a debit card that has been quite a dick lately, its chip not being all that chippy.
“Motherfu …” but I held myself back from my usual fave expletive, thinking of this older, slow moving woman, and of my mother who would admonish such language but only with better language of her own, this older woman who stepped behind me being held up by a cart when she came to save me and my thoughts of being an asshole.
“I’m sorry Ma’am, I almost had a bit of a curse there … this card has been a pain lately”
She looked up from under her tired eyebrow huddled hat, but with sudden unexpected young bright eyes and I was taken aback, wide bright lively crystal blue eyes and said “Oh, curse away, I enjoy that”
“Really?”
“Of course, there are some things I could motherfuck about right about now too … but don’t get me started or we’ll be here all day”
As I made my way to the lot and put my things into BB’s (my car) hatch she slowly followed with the cart holding her and her few things up and in and put them into a car with her husband, who, yes I had parked next to, woke now, starting the engine.
“Happy New Year” I said
“The same (with those bright alive blue eyes) to you and your family”
Man, If only my own eyes can be that unexpectedly bright and alive and want to motherfuck things when I get to the tired.
But I didn’t write about that ’cause, like I said, I got nothin’.
No, I’ve done this before, put some of my parody tunes into one post to call them Albums or EP’s, with names, though I shouldn’t give them names while imagining myself an artist or band with titles for Albums or EP’s after not having really created anything like artists and bands do. They’re someone else’s tunes, instrumentals in this case, just with new words (Ok, maybe I’ll give myself a little artistic credit there on the new words) and some singing that could, at best, be considered suspect. I’m not really allowed to give them names.
So a year end compilation in one post of some of my tunes and when I posted them from 2021 it is, but since I’m not really an artist or a band, like I said, who have a right to name things, I’ll just call this album “Bob” … Ok, yes, technically, I just named it but you get my point.
But when we didn’t there was clearly something wrong
—
Na na na na na na na na na
(we gotta crush the vote)
Na na na na na na na na na
(we gotta crush the hope)
—
Here they go, fucking fast
Chau-vin a martyr white bias cast
Say Maxine shut your mou-outh
Your words are a fire that’ll burn the town
But Trump words, were benign-nn
Hugs and kisses it was just sublime
It was really nothing be concerned
Only five dead and the cap riot didn’t earn
What libs will have us learn
No that was just a patriots turn
But now the Tuckers and the pundits churn
Will have believe verdicts real concern was burn
Chauvin’s martyr turn
Excuse for justice served
—
Na na na na na na na na na (gonna crush the vote) Na na na na na na na na na (gonna crush the hope) Na na na na na na na na na (ignorance it is the show) Na na na na na na na na na (white nationals refuse the blow)
Na na na na na na na na na
(gonna crush the vote) Na na na na na na na na na (gonna crush the hope) Na na na na na na na na na (ignorance it is the show)
Trump: “Statistically impossible to have lost the 2020 Election”
“Big protest in DC on January 6th. Be there, will be wild!”
Olivia Troye: “very concerned that there will be violence on January 6th because the president himself encourages it.”
Ted “Bad Beard Breath” Cruz: “We will not go quietly into the night. We will defend liberty. And we are going to win.”
Trump and Jr.: “fight like hell.”
Jr.: “We need to fight.”
Trump: “They’re not taking this White House. We’re going to fight like hell.”
“… and we fight, we fight like hell, and if you don’t fight like hell, you’re not going to have a country anymore.”
Giuliani: “Let’s havetrial by combat´
Mo “Box of Rocks” Brooks: “… Today is the day American patriots start taking down names and kicking ass.”
Trump: “American Patriots,”
“… We love you, you’re very special.”
Trump: “These are the things and events that happen when a sacred landslide election victory is so unceremoniously & viciously stripped away from great patriots who have been badly & unfairly treated for so long. Go home with love & in peace. Remember this day forever!”
This one is for all those that have decided, in their finite white wisdom, to start banning books and worse.
To the The Dixie Cups “Going To The Chapel”.
December 4
Goin’ to the School Board
Goin’ to the school board
And we’re gonna get carried away
With banning books now that aren’t
In a real right straight white safe way
Gee we’ve got some issues with works
That don’t teach imagined virtues of a
Re-visioned whitewashing day
—
GOP’s here
To set message clear
Ignorance sings
Of white patriot things
—
This country was found
On exceptional ground
And we’ll never teach real truth anymore
—
Because we’re
Goin’ to the school board
And we’re gonna get carried away
Might throw books on a pyre now
And dance ‘round with a hey hidey hey how
—
Gee you don’t need a degree
From any liberal leftist factory
Goin’ to create history
—
Whistles will blow
And dogs will crow
We’ll set it right
No CRT will be in sight
We’ll ignore slavery
Even though it’s part of the core
And strike systemic from vocabulary’s lore
—
Because we’re
Goin’ to the school board
And we’re gonna get carried away
Snowflake about the sensibilities
Of our children’s tender feelings
Gee we don’t know the problem
Of new curriculum’s whitey outcome
—
Goin’ to the school board of dumb
(yeah-a-yeah-a-yeahy-yeah)
—
Goin’ to the school board of dumb
(yeah-yeah-yeah-yeahy-yeah)
— Just mind your place and we’ll all get along
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Have instrumental and new lyrics will travel for a tune about Democracy being under attack.
To Green Day’s “Troublemaker” … time to rock a bit.
November 20
Kingmaker
Yeah!
Woo hoo hoo
—
Hey!
Democracy’s under attack
Right in plain sight a lockstep right
Work their authoritarian plight
—
Hey!
They wanna control the states
So next time vote around they’ll mess ‘bove ground
Mold sham results for self-serving tastes
—
They wanna be some new Kingmakers
Autocracy’s G-O-P takers
They wanna be some new Kingmakers
Great leader’s cult first of new shakers
—
Hey!
We like your lie moxie cool
Obstructive whitewash of what was true
It’s quite impressive in its attempt at coup
—
Hey!
His Rally’s his palace days
He’s sounding loaded, old lie bloated
In his propagandist playbook word salad way
—
They wanna be some new Kingmakers
Autocracy’s G-O-P takers
They wanna be some new Kingmakers
Great leader’s cult first of new shakers
—
Hey!
Woooh oooh oooh
Woooh oooh oooh
Woooh oooh oooh
Yeah!
—
They saw election pass with result a bad state
So pass suppression laws before it’s too late
Present these measures in a group all for one haste
Integrity’s at stake the big lie is the play that they make
—
Hey!
Democracy’s under attack
Right in plain sight a lockstep right
Work their authoritarian plight
—
Hey!
They do their do
Hey!
A lie’s whose who
Hey!
Who know the screw
Hey!
A fascist stew
Hey!
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Hey, I remember this song.
To OMC and “How Bizarre”.
August 21
How Repub (song)
Big lie it shotgun rides, McCarthy at the wheel
Headin’ Mar-A-Lago to commiz about steal
A new plan it was hatched then, right after riot’s zeal
After kneel ring kiss the two saw how this should go
Campaign of vote suppression with a spankin’ new cash flow
McCarthy genuflects then says we’ll work on Fili-Joe
—
How Repub
How Repub
How Repub
—
They stay course mis-inform’, more openly than before
First voting then vaccines now, workin’ at death’s door
Of democracy and lives now, Elephant’s they know the score
How to politic both with a loud crazed cultish roar
—
How Repub
How Repub
How Repub
—
Ooh, baby (Ooh, baby) Democracy’s lazy (It’s future now hazy) Every time I just look down There’s a new lie to be found (Every time I just look down) Every time from underground Lies are bubblin’ up
—
Ring master he directs, says make Donkeys have regrets
For not buying into Country’s patriotic cultish sect
We’re showing you white way now, yet ya still deflect
The truth of where road’s going to where we’ll intersect
At Ignorance Way and Main Street with a future surely set
You’ll be minority major
Too slow now to react
Where chance was had to save from dark political intellect
And you’ll learn now how to,
Hey,
To genuflect
—
How Repub
How Repub
How Repub
—
Ooh, baby (Ooh, baby) Democracy’s lazy (It’s future now hazy)
Every time I just look down There’s a new lie to be found (Every time I just look down) Every time from underground Lies are bubblin’ up
They’re bubblin’ up
—
Ooh, baby (Ooh, baby) Democracy’s lazy (It’s future now hazy) Every time I just look down There’s a new lie to be found (Every time I just look down) Every time from underground Lies are bubblin’ up
—
Ooh, baby (Ooh, baby) Democracy’s lazy (It’s future now hazy) Every time I look just down (Every time I just look down) There’s a new lie to be found Every time from underground Lies are bubblin’ up
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The more words the greater the challenge, plus more time for me to say stuff in my musical editorials.
To Billy Joel’s “Piano Man”.
August 7
Neo Fascist Man (song – a GOP anthem)
It’s Doomsday clock on an everyday
GOP wear a watch
They check their wrists – for the end of us
Great experiment to now call a loss
—
They say It’s time has passed can ya follow me
It won’t really be all that hard
There’s a new road to take while the truth we will fake
A dead dream just not in the cards
—
Oh La-la-la de-de da La-la de-de da la-la
—
Sing us a song Neo Fascist man
Sing us a song of lies
Rewrite for us a seen history
Till no longer believe our own eyes
—
Now the GOP practice a longer game
State and by state they block votes
Or they gerrymander – so to stay in command
As they can’t win with votes honest’s go
They say integrity’s at stake in our system here
Must restore voter confidence
And they’ll disenfranchise with no color the prize
And all because of the Big Lie
—
Oh La-la-la de-de da La-la de-de da la-la
—
Now McCarthy holds true his great leader
Kool Aid drunk while supporting the cries
Of an unhinged one, carny barker and some
Whose show now attracts nothing but flies
—
And McConnell says partisan politics
Are the only game Dems wanna play
While hypocrisy drips from his marble mouth
Lockstep lemmings minority sway
—
Break
—
Sing us a wrong Neo Fascist man
Sing us a song of lies
Rewrite for us a known history
Till we no longer hear as it cries
—
GOP gambles Dem dreamers
Whose justifies are like some swiss cheese
Manchin and Kyrsten to any who’ll listen
Are standing just notice them please
—
They’re determined to center attention
Nonsensical their fantasy fight
To preserve the one thing that is killing the dream
Of every last of us be deemed
—
Oh La-la-la de-de da La-la de-de da la-la
—
Do us all wrong Neo Fascist men
Break with democracy’s ties
Cause we’re all in the mood for autocracy
Till we no longer hear our own cries
/////////////////////////////////
For a true nutter.
The Green Acres theme song.
December 8
Greene Crackers
Greene crackers are the treat for me
The favorite snack of the new GOP
Buttered with lies that spread from sea to sea
Keep the truth just give us conspiracies
—
Margie Greene crackers is party’s new face
With Gosar, Gohmert & a guy taking girls ‘cross states
Ok, tacking one on here post posting – like, say, just a fun bonus track.
About cat’s peeing where they shouldn’t.
To Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me”.
March 13
It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Pee
Yo, Handsome … Open up man
What do you want Cujo?
Mom just caught me
Seriously?
I don’t know how
Where?
In the shower, you know
Man
I don’t know what to do
Well, say it wasn’t you
—
Alright
—
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
When I was a kid, as I was joyously passing my time with books of faerie queens and their kings and castles and elves and trolls (ones you would actually like now, no matter their demeanor, as opposed to their newer version) and other fantastic things, or of stars that were so wished upon with their own space fantastic things in star logs I came across Star Wars. Done … hold on … where’s my Bucco’s cap? … we goin’ now? … cool … done.
I had already been there in my head, I had Foundationed, I’d Shanarra’d, I had Rama’d, I had Moted in the eyes of gods, I had Dune’d and Hobbited, I’d Shadowed of Torturers or Swans, I’d … I was a sponge of I’d I’d’s, but Star Wars? It gave me my first real visual of all the opera’s dramas beyond some of the fave camp on TV. It hit me with a “real.”
As I sit watching the final episode of Lost In Space season 3 though, the original Lost In Space being the best of the camp fave, I remember a hollowed out husk of a truck, just beyond a rock wall and just up the hill at the back of Archer Road Elementary School, (a place where years later we would pitch stickball against its gym wall) just beyond the comfort zone of our teachers had they thought to look, where we would play space and being lost in it and argue over who’s parts were whose until, decided, we would recreate episodes or build new ones. We were our own fantastic things at recess right before our teachers started turning their heads.
That husk of a truck was our spaceship, the overgrown grass it sat in was the latest planet we would come upon to explore. Dave or I would be Will or Dad Robinson or even Dr Smith if we were feeling devilish that day. The girls would be Penny and Judy and Mom Robinson and one of us, depending on the day, might even be lucky enough to wave our arms and cry danger. The stories we created were complex and involved, well, as complex and involved as our 8 year old selves could be, sometimes continuing ones that we would tap tap tap our shoes under our desks in impatient anticipation to get back to. Yes, yes, Mrs or Mr, we gotcha, learning things, blah, blah … is it lunch time yet?
As sit watching the final episode of Lost in Space season 3, glorying in the Robinsons finding their way, as I always knew they would, now or then, in stunning visuals and a wonderful re-telling of an old campy tale, I do though take a second.
A second to just miss the days before Star Wars did the visualizing for us and we jockeyed over who would play a robot.
I don’t know where/when it started, my aversion to Christmas, an aversion shared by some I’m sure, and no, I’m not going to be the male version of the latest Hallmark season’s movie. Guy has it all in the big city but feels empty and cynical and comes home to his small town to find that girl in awkward, cute, accidental head bumping ways, the one who owns a small knick-knack candle shop with no movie ever explaining how she makes ends meet with a small knick-knack candle shop, the girl he knew in High School who would catch his eye on occasion (though there is a new soap shop down the road on my way to work that I might just have to check out only half showered that day maybe for reason to visit, just in case right? – soap/candles? Close enough – seriously, it’s a new shop of soap, how do you do a shop of soap?)
No, this is just me wishing December 26th would get here already and let me get back to routine because, really, this all just upsets that routine, right? I know that sounds kind of cold, very un-festive, but our ours is all askew right now, as it always is this time of year, and that’s not even taking into account the sick elephant that’s been in the room for almost two years. What obligations, what family, what drives, what presents, what pressures, what credit cards, what regrets, what mistletoe to hide from at parties, what holiday niceties you might have to share.
It’s an upending. I don’t like upendings, no one likes upendings, and I don’t want to share holiday niceties, I don’t ever want to share these niceties if I don’t have to even if I just came about the word in my head for just this purpose here right now and like how it sounds for the moment. But …
////////////////////////////
… despite myself I still feel the need to obligate the season it seems. Got the Memes and a Cricket on a shared lap, with a Bella doing Bella cat napping Bella stuff on a comforter folded into fours on the living room floor and I’m watching a movie, a new one, all no showered weekend stinky (maybe I really should hit that Soap Shop – just in case right?) “A Boy Called Christmas” … and it has a talking mouse. A talking freakin’ mouse!
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.
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