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 plus minutes are the latter. But, well, 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

So, I need to try and 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, not a lot of days where something of note 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 a 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.

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.

Cricket the Blind (top) and Mimi the Quirky, celebrated members of the Frankenberry synchronized, looking like dead on the hardwood, cat laying team, participate in some training.

“Medal worthy stuff you two!!! Great practice!! Now go groom up ladies!! Towels on window seats. Feline Olympics … we’re ready!!”

(Cricket also qualified in litter kicking and Mimi in shed enough to build another cat)

Though it won’t, sadly not in my lifetime, come to pass space exploration just got a bit larger. A friend of mine reminded me of this earlier, and an actual friend by the way, one I can confirm, he even has a name, Rich, noted how he remembered, seared into his memory the moon launch back in ’69. Me? I don’t but I’ve done my best over the years to catch up to the hope and to the dreams. Of all we’ve had to endure in the last five months or so, of all the death, of all the negligence, all the nonchalance, all of the hoping things would just go away, of all the self interest that is always at the top of priorities it seems there actually was a splashdown. A freakin’ splashdown! Man how primitive will that sound to a future exploring this past? But a successful splashdown return. The first time in 45 years. An almost me of years. Moving forward? A yay us. Just wish I could be there for the next steps.

Because just nonsense

An ode to a Pillow

Pillow

That’s it. Just another tune and lyrics, nothing more.

(to the tune of Sinatra’s “High Hopes”)

 

Dashed Hopes

Next time you’re downed

With your neck on the ground

Under Trump secret hounds

Hope you’ll be found

 

Just what makes that orange old rat

Think he controls like with a mob bat

Pretending to be a strong man

Like his tyrannical pals

 

Yes, we’ve got dashed hopes

We’ve got dashed hopes

We’ve got Trump in the ear wishin’ we’re deaf hopes

 

But any time you cannot breathe

When your eyes they bleed

Just remember that rat

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another tear gas ball

Ooops there goes another pro-jec-tile

Ooops there goes another despotic rant

 

When trouble calls

And self interest rules all

Re-election a must

Make show of balls

 

Now there is a William Low Barr

His lies to the public taken so far

Now he just has to double down

To protect his said rat

 

Cause he’s a dasher of law

He’s a masher of truth

He’s a disingenuine hack a liar’s real Babe Ruth

 

So anytime you hear Barr speak

Know the truth’s been tweaked

It actually just don’t exist

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another Low Barr lie

Ooops there goes another Low Barr try

Anoint Trump King and see democracy die

 

(break)

 

Big problems don’t seem to be enough

To try and make death stop

When power’s priority’s top

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another blame to throw

Ooops there goes more ignorance in the flow

Ooops there goes some even more childish woe

 

Ya think?

 

Just wanted to re-post this “EP” of sorts, tunes and lyrics.

Me and Covid Down By The Schoolyard

(to the tune of “Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard”)

 

Check Check

Hello?

Is this thing on?

Can ya hear me in the back?

 

Trumpy the Tinpot rolled in his head

Reasons for his orange misfortune

He was convinced it was a plot at sabotage

And he silenced all investigation

 

It’s just not fair

My me up in the air

I whine it’s just not fair

Of what else do I care

 

Trumpy looked round scored blame to be found

Shafting all engaged organizations

Telling smart to take a hike, stupid’s got this round

You can trust of our best intentions

 

Well we’re on our way

To worst response we just say ‘fake’

We’re on our way

Taking blind time

Hoping it goes away

Goodbye science, we’re King of Corona

 

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

 

(Break …)

 

Wahhh-Ooooh

 

If we send ‘em back to school

Everything would sure be cool

Pretty up re-election chances

Kennedy a mental not (knot)

Played tough and took a shot

At teachers he can kiss the ass of

 

Well we’re on our way

To worst response we just say ‘fake’

We’re on our way

Taking blind time

Hoping it goes away

Goodbye science, we’re King of Corona

 

Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein Me and Covid

Down in the graveyard

 

Hey?

Did you hear me in the back alright?

Hello?

You suck

Thank you

You’re welcome

 

Check Check

Hello?…..

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

You Can Call me King

(to the tune of “You Can Call Me Al”)

 

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

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

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Better give up mind now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
You’ll be just fine now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Just a matter of time now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Democracy dies now

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

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

Karen’s Been Triggered (lyrics by Rick Cross)

(to the tune of “Eleanor Rigby” and obviously that graves number was a then when this was first done. The sadness has risen)

 

Ahhh, look at all the hateful people

Ahhh, look at these ungrateful people

 

Karen’s been triggered

Pickets outside of a church where a gay wedding’s been

This love is a sin

Waits at her stylist in an angry red face mask that matches her MAGA hat’s tinge

Where to begin?

 

All the frightened people

Why do they hide their eyes?

All the angry people

While our republic dies

 

President Donnie

Face slack and ugly and troll-like and ready to sneer

Mindless drones cheer

Look at him preening

Feckless old monster, his mantra is greed, hate and fear

Let’s end his career

 

All the selfish people

Who teaches them this stuff?

All the stubborn people

How many dead’s enough?

 

Ahhh, look at all the hateful people

Ahhh, look at these ungrateful people

 

Karen’s still triggered

Gasping for air on machines in a hospital hall

Why won’t her god call?

President Donnie

Shrugs and ignores digging up 80,000 new graves

It’s money he craves

 

All the coughing people (Ah, look at all the hateful people)

Was Easter service nice?

All the toxic people (Ah, look at these ungrateful people)

Who’ll make no sacrifice…

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

It Was A Dead Day

(to the tune of “The Boy In The Bubble”)

 

It was a dead day

A day to start dying

Cavalier severe consequence

Another bold lie

Masquerading as bravado

Self preservation festering

As it always does

 

These were the days of self-interest and some bluster

It was the usual roll … call

Of made up facts and imaginary figures

All in a spotlight’s glow

A new ways for a sudden realization

Of a daily narcissistic’s call

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

And Baby I’ll lie, I’ll lie

… I’ll lie

 

It was a cruel truth

As it swept across a nation

That we weren’t prepared

As we wished we could

Have been more in line

With science not a State News

As the blame game took root

Following us around … us around

 

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

A Lysol dream much better than vaccine

The way the presser was a mini rally e-vent

Until embarrassment called

The way the pundits try to search a new distraction

A shiny catch of wandering eye

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

And baby I’ll lie, I’ll lie

… I’ll lie

 

It’s extreme now a violence

A base that’s so inclined to such

Encouraged to stray from the middle of the road

Down an angry dark path of ignorance and bullets

Dead innocents in Michigan for what a maskless sake?

 

These are the days of cowards passing muster

Try and make a momma so proud

A certain sense of purpose of the stupid

Empowered by the man upstairs

These are the days of stupidity and bluster

Momma’s proud somewhere

So proud a follower of the Trump Dumb Down

In his wake blindly with no care oh yeah

 

The way you find yourself and your own violence

But then you just have to cry

At the thought that drove you in the first place

Here

Oh my

Oh my …

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

These Are Trump Days

(to the tune of “Those Were The Days” … for George)

 

Once upon a time there was a nation

A proud one come about but fraught with pain

Of dealing with an oh so shameful histr’y

A one that doesn’t seem to want to change

 

These are Trump days my friend

We pray there’ll be an end

As we dance now beneath jackbooted feet

We try to have our say

But are tear gassed away

These are Trump days yes sadly they’re trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

And now the matter’s gotten so much bleaker

Not better as you’d hope histr’y would learn

And presidents who should be our uniters

Instead opt to take messianic turns

 

These are Trump days my friend

Please God help make them end

I cannot breathe my eyes they want to bleed

We tried to have our say

For light to lead the way

But it’s Trump days, we’re lost amid Trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

He stood in the Rose garden claimed alliance

With pro-testers on a peaceful go

But then he strapped on his small orange jackboots

went for a walk to turn this into show

 

These are Trump days my friend

Please God ya have to send

An angel’s mercy on our hapless lot

Who just want things to change but cannot in this age

These are Trump days, he won’t allow the ways

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

La La La La La La La

Please just get off his neck

His momma wants to see her son again

 

There comes a day where me must be deciders

Of fate that’s dark continued going back

Or a one that tries to move us forward

Something that is more than just attack

 

These … are … Trump … days my friend

Heavens please help us mend

Help us push back on tyrants on the roam

To help us save the weak

Knees under cannot speak

These are Trump days, the devil’s in Trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

La La La La La La La

Please just get off his neck

These Momma’s want to see their sons again

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

Right A Vote

(to the tune of “Kodachrome”)

 

 

When I think back on the elections when I was younger

They were fair or at least as fair could be

But Trump days came and changed things

And not changed for the better now

Justifying straight cheating as a means

 

Voting righ-igh-ights

We’ve got a way to exercise ‘em

Gives us a fighting chance

Makes you think and hope along for a brighter day, oh yeh

I got this right that’s still mine

Hasn’t yet been ta-ken away

But we gotta be protective when comes the day

 

But the games are afoot and have been for a while now

Whining fraud means they’ve already begun

We’ve heard the threats of magic powers, military presence

suppression it will come in a host of forms

 

Voting righ-igh-ights

We’ve got a way to exercise ‘em

Gives us a fighting chance

Makes you think and hope along for a brighter day, oh yeh

I got this right that’s still mine

Hasn’t yet been ta-ken away

But we gotta be protected when comes the day

 

Trump he wants to scare this voting right away

Given chance he’ll do anything for a trump day-ay

Donnie’s gonna su-press this voting right away

 

But Donnie can’t stop these voting rights

Though try he will with all his might

Mail yours in to push the right aw-ay-ay-ay

 

He’ll try and frighten you sit tight

To stay at home for fear of fight

But Donnie can’t take these voting rights away

 

To the Right cheating’s a normal day

It’s how they’ve always made their hay

It seems they don’t know any other way-ay-ay

 

But Donnie can’t shake our voting rights

He’ll whine and cry all day and night

But Trump can’t take your voting right away-ay-ay

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Gettin’ Late For Democracy

(to the tune of “Late In The Evening”)

 

 

The thing we got’s remember

As we lie scared in our beds

Is that there are things that we just have to do

 

Lethal orange self interest

That is ruling a corrupted roost

That doesn’t really care for a me or you-ou

 

It’s getting’ late for Democracy

Unless we find a way stay true-ue

 

We find ourselves at a crossroads now

Where truth is only framed a load

Of some angry liberal lying shit

 

We have incompetent’s at every spot

Who are really nothing more than sharks

Throwing chum for self as they try to clear the pool

 

It’s gettin’ late for democracy

Unless we really hit the mark

 

It is now we have to hit this mark

To walk in a less contentious park

But one where we are still allowed to breathe

 

It highlights a propagandist blight

An affront to everything that’s right

While pointing out the obvious of lies

 

It’s gettin’ late for democracy

Unless we can get this right

 

(break)

 

Need to fight William Low Barr

Who’s so corrupted rule of law

And thinks Prez is that one and only rule

 

He seems to feel there is no law

That Prez isn’t always above

To the detriment of a me and you

 

It’s getting’ late for Democracy

And that is ALLLL a me and you

 

(break)

 

Wanna set the record straight

Dismiss the talk of great

That isn’t what this is all about

Cause it’s obvious that ain’t the case now

 

Cries of fake a wheelhouse take

Of news that doesn’t rate

 

It doesn’t fit the narrative of state

Well the day started with an intended stop at Price Chopper on my way in to the station. Said in the head intention? Some Polars (seltzers) and maybe a prepared thingy for my lunch … oh, and mayonnaise, Hellman’s to be specific (I can do with “house” brands, generics, on most things but Hellman’s and also Mountain Dew are not included, though the Mountain Dew knock-off names can be entertaining). Mayonnaise is a central Frankenberry life component, a building block of existence, an added DNA strand that as long as my blood tests keep pointing positive on all the shit that mayonnaise is bad for I’m good. So Hellman’s it must be. But those three things were my intent anyway.

91 fucking dollars later? Sigh. I know, “that’s a shitload of Polars and enough mayonnaise to fill your post Armageddon bunker for two Armageddons Frankenberry”. Seems so huh? But no, just looking up at those aisle description signs while walking behind my shopping cart reminded me of things I needed beyond this simple of intentions.

Oh, the pet aisle – Stop – (the girl’s stuff … Fancy Feast and litter)

Oh, frozen foods – Stop – (ice cream)

Oh, the beer cooler – Stop – (for later by the way … no day drinking … not just yet)

Oh, the condiment aisle – Stop –  (Blue Cheese dressing, horseradish mustard, and a large one, a lesser DNA strand just a bit more spicy and a try of a new hot sauce with a funky name)

Oh, the meats department – Stop – (freezer at home a little lacking, have your own fridge in your studio for the day’s keep)

Oh, the maneuvering around that same woman who seems to be following you like in some sort of espionage flick where she’s really an operative sent to monitor your actions, slyly, with one eye lightly raised from behind her mask and her limp and cane in her cart – Stop (notice you’re in the candy aisle – “oh, well since I’m here”)

Oh, the paper products – Stop – (some butt extra and paper towels for cat puke)

Anyway, my intended low couple of dollars spend turned into an almost full blown grocery shop, though at least I’m a single dude, so it’s never really as involved as for a whole family.

And I placed a tracker on that woman’s car to see where she went after surveilling me. She played the old lady front well, with that limp and cane and a god awful cough. Quite convincing.

But when I finally got to work and got my Friday things down I went to check the mail downstairs in the lobby. In my continuing obsession with the Alan Parson’s Project and all things related, 5 months of nothing but, my Covid rescue, ordering a good number of replacements for albums lost or a few I didn’t have, I had ordered a copy of “Keats”. This was a one off back in 1984 of the core Alan Parsons band plus a couple of other contributors to the project including Colin Bluntstone, the lead singer of the Zombies. The remembering of this obscure record had come to me out of the blue but it was obvious when it did enter the noggin again, being part of the cannon of a band I’ve been so fondly recalling. I just can’t believe it took me so long on this remembering plus, now, after all these years and my light attention payed to it then it would be brand new to me. It was there in the station mailbox. Yay. Happy dance (don’t look, it’s a bit embarrassing) It was an album that I was excited about all those years ago, bought it and listened but, for some reason, didn’t really hit me, it was more a just have to have it to keep to the library of fandom.

My lord, listening to it on my way home tonight though just transported me. It is SOOO eighties. We didn’t know it then because were living it but listening to it now, so many years later, it had me driving home inside the soundtrack of a movie with a maybe beautiful come to life mannequin or science creation, a cool rocking flights of fighter jets, an irreverent real genius, a something with Jon Cryer or John Cusack, a John Hughes production possibly, a brat pack, while I managed (cursed) traffic hoping only to get to the end of another week and a re-listen from the comfort of home.

The girls aren’t impressed, as they’re cats. Nothing really impresses cats. Other than those stretch squeak noises they make they’re pretty tuneless. Well there are the “meows” but that is more just a cat talking thing. They very rarely chime in on my music choices, though that one time where Bella raised a cat eye and ear at my cranking, knowing the house was empty, of the Chameleons UK “In Shreds” is a reminder that they notice.

What does all this post mean in the long run? Absolutely nothing but everything when it comes to a you.

I’d been taken back to a time so well recalled and so dearly missed, exactly the reason that I ordered this “one off” from the Alan Parsons gang in the first place that, as I listen to it now, is pretty freakin’ good and is SO much of that time that is possibly my best of days (though time has improved my writing, so at least, in that regard, these current are also pretty good days).

A good friend of mine, not a “friends of mine or people say”, something we hear all too often these days as unconfirmed confirmation of actions, but an ACTUAL friend of mine, one who I can offer proof of, said he’d like to just start writing a blog post or two, find a spot outside of his well worked work where he writes important stuff about space and what’s beyond us. Well, hit it my friend. You’ve already got a leg up the rest when it comes to the writing ability.

I’ve just posted some words about nothing but about everything. You can do the same. What more do we want than to write about nothing and everything even if it’s just a “you” thing?

I took a break, a pause from this writing last night, leaving this to a new eye and ear for this morning and hit play just now again on this Keats album. It’s still a transporting kinda thing. I’m still in that 80’s soundtrack, replete with the requisite 80’s sax and one that always fades you into the next scene.

I’m glad for the break as it’s important to take a step back and look at things anew plus I actually got what some may say amounts to some sleep. Not a skill of mine, this sleep thing by the way, but I got a little.

The girls girl furry and silently stretch small noise, old tunes transport to a best of times and … well just “and”…

Another friend of mine, one from those 80’s days, posted just yesterday of losing a tab of buttons (didn’t know they were a “tab”) buying another only to discover the first tab in the most obvious of places, in the pants that needed the new button. He noted that his mom had instilled in him and his sister a certain self reliance, things to keep you moving forward, things you might need like knowing laundry and a balanced checkbook, simple cooking habits and buttons it seems. No Steve, tuna sandwiches don’t qualify as “cooking” by the way but still mom was on it. The dude actually sewed his own button with one from the new tab and even talked of it so nonchalantly, like it was a normal thing, cocky bastard. Besides being my new hero he reminded me of that best of times when he and I were current and more immediate, of when lessons from Ma were of the utmost and when tunes were important. I will admit tunes have faded for me over the last number of years, other than my old go to’s. But sometimes they’re found again, that tab of buttons in the most obvious of spots, right there in the pocket of those pants, right there in the pocket of your head. Sometimes you find them. Ya just gotta search.

(Not that anyone asked for it but an update on my new PC that, in my last post, I thought had given up the ghost rather abruptly).

In an English accent from atop a medieval yet modern cart heaped with other assorted dead computers … “I’m not dead yet”

Thank you Vivek at Dell from across a couple of ocean’s for being so helpful and so patient with my “ummmm?”‘s and “uhhhhh?”‘s (If I had been a Knight of Camelot I would have surely been titled Stephen The Dim and probably would have gotten a slow bleed couple of nicks on my shoulders at the Knighting ceremony from moving at just the wrong moment under the tapping sword). Seems maybe, in his estimation, a static shock of some type might have just knocked it out temporarily, or some sort of surge I just didn’t notice. Now I was on the phone for a total of 2 hours and 45 minutes (most of that on hold – though WHUD’s Andy Bale, noting my expertise at such, called me an “on hold camel” so I was ok) but with an hour of that talking to Vivek in India. Not only did he check my PC’s vitals remotely, he also patiently sat with me while he insisted on updating any system or driver that could be updated in order to assure my PC was at as peak a peak as it was going to currently be.

Was it worth all that time? Yes, because, though it’s only been just short of three months, I have a lot of new stuff on this bad boy and it was a big expense for me as well. And there’s no time lost now in the mailing and waiting for the return which, these days, is even longer.

But it was also worth it because in that time I unexpectedly got to know some about a complete stranger thousands of miles away who wasn’t just helpful, but wanted to be so. Who was simply a nice and thoughtful guy. Could use more of those. Were there some initial difficulties in understanding him through the accent and the slightly differing English? Yes, but funny, kinda how you eventually forget the subtitles in something foreign you may be watching, these difficulties soon dissipated.

I got to know a little about his family while we waited out the updates, the city he lived in, how he’s working from home like so many of us, how he goes out as little as possible thinking of his wife and children but, when necessary, searches for the lowest of volume times to shop, like so many of us, we talked of sacred cows and how they roam the streets and how, once you get outside of busy urbans, every family has one as part of it’s household. What are the odds that when I get a tech support guy in India who logs into my PC remotely that the first thing he sees is this picture which is my desktop wallpaper (a one of some of the gang here at the ‘stead’) and would inspire that last bit of cow centered conversation? I said ummmm “some American cows have a sense of humor?”

We talked of the shared fear of the time we live in and how we worry for our families and ourselves. Equal fears from opposite sides of the world and added fears for some of the extreme responses, most of them stateside here, a lot just plain stupid, but some proven to be dangerous and deadly, that have come from it. I told him the silly sounding history of my name, at least from when I was 7 and a wimpy easily frightened pink Frankenstein cartoon character appeared on a cereal box. Strawberry flavored. He got a good laugh out of that.

Updates updated and we talked.

Eventually everything was set and, at least for now, things seem to be working again which is a huge relief. But, if I’m going to spend all that time on the phone to get to this “eventually everything was set” and come to this feeling of relief at least a great portion of it was time well spent doing a bit of expanding of my world, even amid fear, though maybe, just maybe, the fear was lessened a bit.

Thanks for the assist but, more importantly, nice to meet ya Vivek.