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.
Once a month comes once a month, it’s pretty regular as once a months go, as long as calendars don’t try to fuck with me and suddenly change cats out of time on my wall … (hey wait, when the hell did that meowing tabby suddenly turn into a yawning gray long hair?) but once a month means that I am takin’ Monday off. And when I do, take this once monthly, it can sometimes involve a new “tune” …
(sorry, that was Cricket in case you were curious, always reminding that she is a part of this process, blind keyboard stepping right through, though her singing voice definitely can leave a bit to be desired … but so with ya on the solitary 7 my friend … I know huh? Nope, don’t get me started)
… and when that is the case, a new tune, I will take my time that often then involves me working said tune, though it has been a little while for this as we live in dire times, free thought not really being all that much of a thing these days so you must be careful, but I will work it.
Well I did work a new thing this Friday and with that, that new tune I thought, as I have done before, to put a few things into one easy, convenient post as once I am in song mode I am just there.
So, with links to their posts, I boogie woogie here, I channel Bob Dylan, there’s a new one with a big top soundtrack, I lament the white supremacy that seems to, so sadly, be a thing these days, from the top on down, I Cheap trick some need to conform, I rail on tax cuts ala the Beatles, and the always GOP minority rule via Tears for Fears.
Earlier this week I posted “Headstone” a fantastic video short voiced and built by a good friend and co-worker based on a flash fiction piece of mine, something for this spooky season, one that involves a graveyard’s groundskeeper coming across Death weeping at a long forgotten gravestone.
Well, that is not the only story I’ve written that imagines Death in one way or another (I’ve got a couple of tunes in that regard as well) so in continuing to keep with the season then, I thought to revisit this one from three years ago’ ””””p777777777777777777777777 (sorry, that’s Cricket the Cat Poet wanting to join in here with her own thoughts, again, and strangely, with this talk of Mr. Death, she has opted for a bunch of 7’s, interesting) but I wanted to revisit this one, one decidedly lighter than “Headstone”, from those three years ago, Spring of that year actually, not Halloween time where, on my ride home from work one night, I passed the Angel of Death standing in the middle of Route 9 in Poughkeepsie (some dude dressed as the Grim Reaper holding an hourglass).
But was he really just some guy in a costume?
Now, this one is one of my most viewed posts, period, over many year’s time spent here in the Attic, couldn’t tell ya why, though I am not complaining and credit to my discerning readers (yes, shameless flattery trying to get me everywhere with you all) as it just a pretty good post and a real favorite of mine.
Then a few months after the initial post I decided to do an audio version of it and play it up a bit. I know a number of you have already read and/or heard this, but, well, I just don’t wanna miss this time’s window to get it out there again for the others.
Here’s to the season my friends, my favorite time of the year.
Angel of Death: End Of Days, Route 9, Poughkeepsie???
(and a guy dressed as the Grim Reaper holding an hourglass in the middle of route 9 led to this …)
So I saw the Angel of Death tonight … on Route 9 in Poughkeepsie standing on the median between the North and South triple lanes, at a traffic light, near a T.G.I. Friday’s and a Mattress Firm and across from a new specialty soap shop, a new Sleep Number Bed place and a convenience store, among a number of other spots.
Tall guy dressed as you might expect of an Angel of Death/Grim Reaper type. Long black robe, oversized hood and he was pointing at things, menacingly, possibly specialty soaps and he seemed like he might even have been yelling though I couldn’t really hear as I passed him amid that damned rock n roll I was playing too loudly on a nice sunny almost Spring evening, finally, one you surely wouldn’t expect the end of days to arrive on, at least you’d hope not, though I’m afraid my Mom might feel vindicated now all these years later of her worries of, when I was younger, while I was playing that damned rock and roll too loudly back then as well and cutting up perfectly good heavy metal band concert T-shirts to have her sew them on the back of denim jackets, that some might think the end of days would sneak up on me because I wouldn’t hear it/them coming.
The only thing out of the ordinary for this particular Angel of Death though was that he was carrying an hourglass. Not that Angels of Death don’t sometimes carry hourglasses, they do, I’ve seen artist renderings, some pretty cool artist renderings as a matter of fact, but this was in lieu of the tall, sharp, pointy, violent looking scythe’s we’ve more come to expect in a clichéd Angel of Death kinda way which, truth be told, is probably for the best in this day and age that that wasn’t what he was carrying.
Tall, sharp, pointy violent looking clichéd scythe’s? Yeah, that’ll getcha noticed, and not in a good way, and possibly even get ya tased or worse. Hourglass? Much less threatening.
I did though think, if I could have, that I would have politely pointed out that this hourglass of his was a little small, not really of a size befitting his stature or one to really get him noticed in the middle of a busy roadway here in Poughkeepsie, and right at the height of an evening rush hour with people being lost in thoughts of get homes and dinners and dog walkings and sweatpants and checkings in on that show that you’re pretty sure your better half cheated on and watched the next episode of without you, again, and conversations/angers left open ended the night before.
I would have pointed out that he needed something a bit more dramatic, more theatrical, something oversized to really catch that thought lost eye. The hourglass he had was, well, a little on the Spinal Tappy Stonehenge side but with him being the Angel of Death an all, I would have been as deferential and as delicate as I could with this observation (plus, he most probably still had that clichéd scythe somewhere in reserve – and that shit looks like it would hurt … a lot, like in a death kind of way).
Now was there any reason, I thought, any significance to this specific spot of his as I drove past? I don’t know. Was this where the thunders and the lightnings, the great fires or floods, or great fires followed by floods to drown out great fires making people tread water in floaties the only thing they had on hand, damn the children, the pestilences and rivers of blood were newly ordained to happen, or was he just waiting on a pick up order from that T.G.I. Friday’s and doing what Angels of Death do to pass the time, what little time may be left?
Had he been maybe having some trouble sleeping recently (certainly possible as carrying the weight of his message has gotta be a heavy sleepless nights kinda burden) thus reason to be in between a Mattress Firm and a Sleep Number Bed store or was he really pointing menacingly at specialty soaps, a could be 21st century haven of witchcraft with all the witch-like curatives some of the soaps and maybe oils and creams inside can surely promise … plus Hell, you know there’s gotta be a crystal or two hanging in there somewhere right? Or maybe he was just waiting to cross the highway way to get to the convenience store for a pack of smokes thinking to his Death self, well, if I’m bringing word of the end of the world to the peoples, I might as well smoke up while I can.
I don’t know. Whatever the reason was for that location or whatever the reason wasn’t, all I really thought on my way home after passing this Angel of Death fella with his too small hourglass (you just need a big black sports hearse car to compensate my not friend) was “listen, if this is it tonight big guy, if this is the end of days, after you’ve possibly picked up your order at T.G.I. Friday’s could you …
“Hi, can I help you sir?”
“I’m here for a pick-up”
“Your name?”
“Angel”
“Angel? Hold on … hmmm, hmmm, hold on a sec, I’m sorry I’m not seeing that here for our pick-up orders right now”
“You sure … nothing under the name Angel? With an A?”
“I can spell Angel sir, thank you, and sorry, but no … could you have ordered under a different name?”
“Oh wait, you know what, I may have. Do you have one under the name Death?”
“Death … Death … Death … sorry busy night … hold on … oh, here we go … Death … burger, blood rare, locusts, frogs, extra cheese, fries and the apple cobbler dessert special?”
“Yep, that’s me. Sorry, I don’t usually use my last name, way too formal and can be a little off-putting”
“No worries Sir. Let me get that for you, Oh, and by the way? Cool hood”
“Oh, well thank you so very much”
“I would say though, if you don’t mind a little constructive criticism, that you get a slightly larger hourglass”
… and could you, after you’ve put a deposit down on a new bed …
“You’ll be so happy you chose our little slice of sleep heaven … (stop short silent stare) … sorry, my bad … probably not the best of selling points for you I’m thinking now … you’ll be so happy you chose our bed Mr. Death instead of something that feels like a bed of nails like from those sleep hacks across the street …”
“They have something that feels like a bed of nails?”
“What?”
“Bed of nails, those sleep hacks across the street have something that feels like a bed of nails?”
“Ummm, well yeah, that’s what we say … Ok, but hold on, I got ya. If you’d like, Jimmy, one of our delivery drivers, works at a small local hardware store and I’m sure we could throw in a bag of nails, support small business right, that you can toss on the bed, like scattering rose petals for you and the Missus …”
“There’s no Missus … I’m Death. It would make holiday family get togethers very uncomfortable.”
“Ok, well, bag of nails just for you it is then”
… and then after checking in on potential modern day witches …
“Do you have a soap or some oils that can just ease some tension, possibly transport me away to a better place? I think I’ve seen a commercial like that … a place like … HELL!”
“ummmm, Ok then, well?”
“Gotcha! I saw ya glancing over at that crystal … witch”…
… and after you’ve a grabbed a smoke outside the Exxon while you’re getting yelled at for your loitering could you at least let me feed the cats and have my dinner and maybe clean a litter box or two? I would SO hate to have to face the end of days, you know, the rapture or something, even if you all do the rapture, I’m not sure, or some sort of reckoning, with messy litter boxes and on an empty stomach.
“Will do”
Thanks.
Alright Bella, alright Ms Cricket … Last Fancy Feast “Savory Centers”
Eat up quickly girls, I don’t know what kind of deadline he might be facin’.
So a number of nights ago I noticed, as I sat at my desk workin’ stuff in my basement Attic, that I had some company scurrying next to my lamp and possibly sizing up whether he could lift and then beat me to death with it.
Now, possible ill intentions aside, I left him to whatever those intentions were, ill or otherwise and then, well, I forgot about him and them there possible intentions. And, after a few nights of making sure to sleep with my mouth closed, I forgot about him even more until he practically ceased to exist, like, sadly, a lot of things in the world these days.
That was almost two weeks ago.
Then tonight, as I was straightening up Bella and Cricket’s room, the one they let me share, while I did a load of laundry (because it’s a FRANKEN-PAR-TAY FRIDAY!!) I went to grab the garbage out of the small can I have next to my desk.
I opened the lid (with my foot on a lever at the bottom of it … I know, cool huh? – simple mechanical shit is still like magic) and on top of a paper towel napkin in said garbage?
“Dude!? Jesus!!”
Seems Mr Spidey Pants is still with me, just hiding on used paper towel napkins at the top of my garbage.
One: I don’t want to know how he got in there and if he was strong enough to open the lid on his own OR worse, strong AND smart enough to ACTUALLY step on the still cool ass lever first and then be fast enough to scurry to the top of the can and jump in. Well, he may, indeed, be strong enough to wield my lamp like a blunt instrument but now he’s added speed and smarts which becomes an additional, worrisome issue entirely.
Two: Is he somehow surveilling me and is part of the surveillance to go through my trash? And if so, who does he work for?
Three: What’s been on his mind lately, possibly something troubling him as he obviously has been letting himself go. “Seriously Man, your legs could use a bit of a shave” and could any of these troubles boil over to the point where my lamp becomes the murder weapon discovered in the early parts of a police procedural?
Four: There isn’t a four, three was plenty enough and well … whatever. I just know the many legged fella is “back” AND back from wherever he has been hiding, which is something I am definitely not going to think about, his possible lair, though we all do need some place to rest while devising dastardly plans I guess, but I will now be sleeping with my mouth closed again, at least for a few extra nights.
Note: I did make my Sister aware of Mr Spidey Pants just in case, ya know, in case his “lair” is somewhere above the stairs here and her cats have been as lax as mine in their supposed years told spidey-hunt catness … unless there is something even more dire at paw.
Note Twice: I have a friend who lives in Australia, the famed land of bugs and critters that all start, nominally, at the size of small dog and can carry away children to raise them as their own and take advantage of their opposable thumbs and that all could kill you, not with some possible super bug strength and a heavy lamp but with a mere glance who might read this and just say “Pshawwww! That ain’t no spider! Hell brother, our spiders all have leashes and are taken for walks.”
Now this is kinda exciting, not really but kinda, like hearing that “winner” sound at the Deli when Sandy runs your lottery ticket and you realize you’ve maybe gained 20 bucks back on the hundreds you’ve spent over the last 3 or 4 months trying to grab a dream (you know it isn’t more than that as Sandy ain’t dancin’ or calling a lawyer) but still kinda exciting ‘cause my new headphones are here! My new headphones are here! while Steve Martin bounces in spirit with a phonebook and I literally just ordered them last night.
5:39 am “delivered” email.
Yay and wow and cheers to you Amazon driver person! I hope at least you can go home early and have something of a Sunday.
And yay and wow and cheers to you Jeff Bezos … for like five seconds. You’ve still got a lot of ‘splainin’ to do for your acquiescing knee bent protection money spending sitting privileged in the back bleachers all proudly for coronation photos and your hatred of unions like some sweat shop boss and holding back WaPo opinions and just general Jeff Bezos questions as you aren’t what you seemed.
Shit, I’m guessing 5:39am driver guy or gal might be thinking a question or two as well, just not out loud.
But you get a temporary mulligan, a one I will rescind though and mark that ”gift” 8 on your card in a heartbeat (you really need to work on your putting game. I would have killed you in mini golf … Oh, I know how to play this windmill … and this creepy generic clown with the hole in it’s nose?)
But it is still a little exciting anyway as the duct tape on my old ones was really starting to scratch my ears more annoyingly than it already did. Duct tape can work for a lot of things, as we all know, back car bumpers, corners of cell phones, gas lines you accidentally dug up without notifying anyone you would be digging, small parts of bridges, even relationships if you are into that sort of thing, but headphones? Not so much.
So 5:39am driver gal or guy? Thank you. Now clock out little early if you can. It’s a Sunday.
It’s also kinda exciting as I don’t really do “purchases” other than trips to the grocery store but that’s just a necessity to keep me and my Bella and my Cricket alive, I just don’t do big things and anything over 75 bucks is a big thing for me so a hundred bucks for these new Sony MDR 7506’s is a big thing (I am only name brand on two things, Hellmans and headphones). But my Mom in her infinite Mom’d wisdom left me and my Sis and my Brother a few dollars, certainly not some huge windfall inheritance that the three of us would fight over like in a Lifetime movie or a cage match but enough to have me feeling a little flush for the first time in … well I couldn’t tell ya as I have never felt flush. I love what I do, have loved what I do for too many years now but it ain’t affording me any Rockefeller status so having a couple of extra bucks is new and welcome.
Now Beck (my Sis and housemate and dearest friend and landlady who only asks for a few dollars and be subject to her and her “circle’s” weird blood letting rituals on Monday nights (I think they speak Welsh in them if only to confuse me and Tuesdays can be a bit of a slog) and to be a backup guy for her Saphira, Arthur & Rikki cats if she is out of town down the state at Buck’s place, tells me, knowing me, that it is alright to treat myself to a few things now especially as that is what Mom would have wanted. Hell, I’ve just been happy enough to not have to worry over grabbing lunch “out” and not brown bag it courtesy of Mom without having to crunch numbers so Beck’s assurances and Mom’s extra Momness has been a small bonus and with it? Well, a necessary new computer (a few months ago) and a new pair of headphones to plug into it.
Also a new computer chair that will be here, I hope, just before my birthday in a couple of weeks which is a big one, no, not the chair (though it does have “executive” in it’s descriptor and will allow me, more comfortably, to fall asleep in it like any old man worth his salt, I mean, that’s what old men do right, fall asleep in chairs?) but a first birthday beyond the milestone of a new zero from a year ago.
You see when you have milestone birthdays, besides being able to exhale a sigh of relief that somehow the universe hasn’t been paying too much attention to the stupid shit that you’ve done for the last ten years, like the blood results for a feared checkup that show Ok counts of what blood does when it’s being counted and not of what you did last Wednesday, but you realize that for whatever this milestone is you could at least say, for a year, that last year I was still in my 20’s or 30’s or 40’s or 50’s.
Why is this a big one coming up? Because I am going to officially be in my 60’s and I can’t get the fuck out now, I’ll have to wait another ten years to say last year I was in my 60’s.
Well, here’s to 5:39 am drivers, duct tape not duct taped to my ear for sound, comfortable eventual chairs and Moms still doing Momness even from the great beyond.
Ok, I am going to stretch here just to get to where I want to go, which is to eventually re-visit my version of a Melanie tune from a year ago because it still works and stuff needs be reminded … plus, I got nothin’.
My good buddy Rick, a lifelonger just minus the first 18 years or so (though I’m sure he would have gotten along famously with those first 18 or so) posted this beyond troubling meme to his Facebook page a couple of days ago, a one whose facts we troublingly know too well …
… to which I replied …
Sadly, none of the current Facebook response circle emoji’s really cut it here. I don’t wanna Like it or Love it or Care for it or Laugh at it (as this shit ain’t funny … well it is, but in a tragically sad comic bang my head bloody against the stupid until I am moved to the “soft room” in the wing that people only whisper about or OOOOOH it like “Whoaaa?” this is some sort of surprise, or be Saddened by it as that is just too obvious or Anger at it as that is more obvious still.
No, and I know there are emoji’s that can convey this, but we need an additional circle added here to the Facebook response choices, a “What the Fuck!?” emoji circle, one specifically designed for this current administration or just in general really, one that doesn’t just say “What the Fuck!?” but is understood to say, instead, “What the Fuck U Boxes of Rocks?!” while also implying apologies to Boxes of Rocks everywhere for dragging them into this conversation at all and unfairly associating them here as their “intelligence” far outweighs anything we see on a daily … and they are rocks (sorry, again, no slight intended Rocks … “None taken, we’re rocks, we get it” … cool).
Ok, this all a little too involved, but ya know what, maybe that’s it. A new response emoji circle, not a “What the Fuck!?” but one that is just a confused looking Rock, like a pet one from back in the 70’s that wondered just what the hell you were doing (appreciate the comfy bed of straw an’ all but I’m a rock). Plus, boxes of rocks need be paid their due as they have unknowingly really stepped up their game for the comparisons these days.
… and then there were texts to my sister of pictures of cats and even texts to my nephew Matt of pictures of cats … and that one cool pic of an old ruby red muscle Mustang that I saw at the grocery store on way my home Friday night, stopping for some cat litter and a twelve pack and a dried out dozen wings for dinner, that I missed taking a pic of (though I would at least tell him about it)
… and then I would go on and on and on about what pissed me off on a production guy Friday to either of them or even to cats (there is always something by the way, to piss you off, as a production guy, on a production guy Friday that you can tell Sisters or Nephews or cats about when you get home).
… and then it was to taking pictures of cats while sitting in bathrooms who were wanting for company and marveling at that new clean shower curtain you bought at Dollar General a day earlier, the one that wasn’t trying to become it’s own ecosystem, finally (though the old’s former rainbow of colors were quite pretty).
… and then you would get to that version of that Melanie tune from a year ago and feel like you’d accomplished something even though you had nothin’ other than that old Melanie tune you started with and were stretching this post for to get to, but one that still works.
So “Brand New Trump Key” … a re-visit then it is.
////////////////////////////////////////
Brand New Trump Key
I rode my motorcade to your city last night
To spin some lies and give you all such a fright
To harp on victim-like and rail conspiracies
I know you trust me know I’m just what you need
.
Well, I’ve got brand new world in mind here now
Take heart my unhinged screed
I’ll be proven right my ranting now
You just need to wait and see
I know what you need it’s a Donnie me
A fascist change of scene
.
Well, I’ve got a brand new world in mind here now
It just ain’t democracy
.
I ride my plan of year twenty of twenty five
I got my dee-scipes proving be worthy scribes
Of new world order in these United States
If you don’t subscribe you’ll surely be less than great
.
Oh yeah
Hah hah hah hah
Oh you will face my wrath
Hah hah hah hah
Oh yeah yeah yeah you’ll wish you hadn’t said that
Well, my PTO has finally rolled over (Paid Time Off by the way, not Paul Tried Origami or Patty’s Trusted Oncologist (hey that’s important) or Palantir’s Takeover Onesies and an owned from your get go cute baby t-shirt (which are all understandable mistakes … I’m with ya) … I’m only pointing/spelling out these possibilities as when as when I was first introduced to the acronym I worried that I was going to have to go to meetings in the town hall basement community room with Parents and Teachers and bad coffee and day old donuts and fold chairs into that long contraption that collects chairs at the end after listening to Madge drone on and on about whatever Madge drones on and on about.
I mean, I feel bad for the loss of Mr Sniffems Smarty Pants, who was like 98 in human years and walked with 3 canes (don’t ask), but somebody really needs to start a fund to get her another cat, and it’s even tacked on three extra days now as I have hit the ten year mark at the stations (Oh, you shouldn’t have, that was waaaaaay too kind and they were really nice, even the “Happy New Year!” “It’s Her Birthday!” and “You Finally Graduated Now Go Get A Job And Get The Hell Out Of The House I Have Plans For Your Room” ones you got in a bundled discount and I didn’t even know they had “So Sorry For Your Loss” balloons as well, but it’s the thought right?) so I figgr’d to add Tuesday to this already extended weekend and take my first renewed day.
A bit of a vacay if you will or staycay as I’ve heard it phrased by those in the witty cool know (and which is more my old man speed anyway) as I don’t go out, I don’t travel or have any need to, I don’t go to events, I’d even avoid my own funeral if I could get out of it, though that’s a question of the Devil, and a one that would probably be my last anti-social hurrah, I have even conditioned my friends to not trying to bother to ask their “Hey, what are you doing this weekend” questions and before I belabor this some more and repeat myself from an old post that explains it (it is here below) that explains more in full of how I don’t do, or care to, or give a shit to … plus it also comes with a really fun re-play of my version of the Oompa Loompa song by the way, if you haven’t already heard it, so don’t just dismiss me out of hand.
I have though noticed, over the last few years, that if use up my PTO time too early, like by a couple of months, as I always do, I spend those last couple of months being overly tired, on edge and noticeably scatterbrained.
“Well how about you dole them out with more of a plan then, so you don’t waste them too early”
‘Yeah, fuck you Captain Obvious, but you’re right”
“I told you”
Note: Never admit ANYTHING to Captain Obvious and give him a win. He’s a nice fella an all, well meaning surely, but he can be a bit of a dick in his judgements and condescension so that all you’re gonna wanna do is slap him upside the head or knee cap him if you know the right people but that shit takes time, so many layers there, including paying off your uncle’s debts (he’s always loved the ponies, they’ve just never loved him back) plus, violence is never the answer, at least not on an extra Tuesday.
Wednesday? Well, that’s up in the air.
This one extra day though? A Tuesday? More than welcome.
//////////////////////////////////////////
April 2, 2024
So a friend, Drew, recently posted to the Facebook this meme …
… and I thought well, what if the Oompa’s showed up at the funeral of this meme guy, a fella named Bob maybe, whose ‘last mistake’ was actually his LAST mistake.
Now, if anyone was wondering why it’s been so long since I’ve had a girlfriend, probably not, well, this is the kind of thing that I think about and do for fun which goes a long way to explaining said singleness.
I don’t date, don’t go to movies, or dinner, or events, or play pickleball, or go “clubbin'” and whatever that might entail (sounds expensive and I ain’t got the wardrobe for it as I’m sure sweatpants aren’t gettin’ me past the bouncer) I don’t nature hike, I’m not a regular at any monthly game nights with friends, I don’t Church, I don’t Astrology (seriously? the phases and prickliness at holiday get togethers of Mars or Venus? Be more concerned with the “aura” of that rogue planet we pissed off in the late 40’s, I don’t go to family get togethers with anyone new and pretty in tow to make Aunt’s happy (Oh, “finally” they would say in small Aunt klatches quieting any busybody speculation), I don’t gym or bike or jog or even walk briskly, not that some exercise wouldn’t hurt, I don’t do anything in groups though the one’s I am not in might sometimes remark unfairly of such, no, I just do this sort of stuff and other writing things silly and not silly, oh, and I have full blown conversations with cats.
It’s amazing what you can learn about a cat’s daily by the way, if you just take the time to listen.
“Really? You meditated in a window in the sun (napped) while contemplating the mysteries of the universe (still napping) and then woke up and went to the litter box?!”
Yeah, that ‘single’ status ain’t changing anytime soon I don’t think.
Anyway, for the dearly departed Bob, who took one final unintended bus ride to the sky.
Oompa Loompa Bob Song
Oompa, Loompa, doompety-do I’ve got a little story for you Oompa, Loompa, doompety-dee it’s about Bob so please listen to me
What do you get when you’re walking a street Lost in your cell “hey, that video’s neat” You don’t pay attention to what’s in your surrounds Including that curb’s last mistake to be found
I don’t like the look of this
Oompa, Loompa, doompety-don’t Step off that curb Bob please tell me you won’t Oompa, Loompa, doompety-please Lift your head, look around at that bus bearing down
My Sis, Beck, at the end of last week was down in Wallkill, a few hours south of us here, for a couple of days and when she is gone for day or two, or possibly more, I will happily be tasked with being the caretaker (or cattaker if you will) of her three, Sephira, Arthur and Rikki (Rikki the oversized Cat Weeble who wobbles, wobbles, wobbles and wobbles with a bit of a jiggle, jiggle, jiggle wobbled in there for good measure, but doesn’t fall down …
… unless she’s tired and just plops, but that is NOT a Weeble wobbling AND falling down thing as, well, they just DON’T, as clearly evidenced above here in this piece of Weeble commercial history. No, that would be just entirely of a cat’s own free will and something cats are wont to do which Rikki will surely remind with a raspy cigarette “been hard times Man” sounding meow and a side-eyed glance if you even raise the question.
Nephew Matt can also be tasked for the assist here but he works nights and isn’t up in the mornings because of that, unlike me, so I can easily get both ends of the feeding schedule and gladly slave tirelessly over a hot cracked can of fancy feast stove and help keep them in meowing good fed health and spirits too as I will also throw some petting and conversation in the mix and, though, I am surely a poor backup for “Mom”, they muddle meow through with me anyway (the whole selfless hot can stove cracking food thing helps a great deal in this regard).
I’d like to think, though, that after 8 months or so of me being around, of me being simply an “extra guy”, a one from up the basement like some sort of troll, that maybe it is less of just a muddle, meowing around but maybe a welcome change of feeding pace and welcome extra company.
Cats do love themselves some extra company after all. “Who you? … well, got a forehead and a belly for a scratch here if you are so inclined, oh, this is a test by the way”.
Arthur is fine example as when Mom is away, and his backup human, Matt, is at work, I become the backup, backup human, and I will often find him at my feet, damning the dire world of possible trolls and possible stories of them eating cats, maybe in a Grimm Tale somewhere and, instead, find him trolling, lolling, lounging around behind me at my feet while I’m doing a bit of laundry.
I have mentioned before, in a number of posts, that I am the stereotypical pathetic single dude with a couple of cats who lives in his Mom’s basement, but the not quite stereotypical pathetic single older brother and uncle dude with a couple of cats who lives in his SISTER’S basement and that I just weather the cliche. But I got to change my short-lived roommate attempt at saving a few dollars situation from 8 months or so ago, to instead reconnect with family in an immediate daily way and my Sis and Nephew have been afforded the glorious opportunity to live with me, surely throwing parties in their heads every day at their good fortune but where I never ask of either of them their definitions of glorious or what they may find to be good fortune.
This though, really, has been a Godsend if whoever he is, is actually in the business of sending sendings. I have been able to give my Bella and my Cricket some much needed space in this troll’s new spacious basement place, away from the tiny bedroom in that aforementioned short-lived roommate dollar save attempt while giving my Sis a backup human to be able to turn to for some cat assistance and maybe some welcome long lost conversation between us at a dining room table or in the living room over some greenish, English accented reality show and also give her a few extra dollars while saving me quite a few at the same time, something that is most welcome believe me (I may love what I do to death but I ain’t flush).
I’d also like to think, just as with Beck’s cats, (it’s sill just a test but you are passing) that maybe my company is alright, I mean I am not an unlikable fella, I can be pretty entertaining, sometimes unintentionally in a slapstick or dad, dog joke kinda way, pretty entertaining even intentionally on occasion, I sometimes even say things that can be considered to be quite smart and prescient and Bella and Cricket get some extra hello’s and attention that they wouldn’t have gotten otherwise, living alone minus me during the day, without this new situation, especially Cricket.
She is blind and deaf and a bit older and where, in the past she may have meowled to the cat heavens in her heartbreaking sounding way, during the day, maybe feeling lonely and afraid she now has some backup humans if they are around to hear her pleas, to come downstairs to give her a pickup and a hug and some warm assurance.
Matt even took her out front of the house recently on his shoulder just to feel some breeze and some life.
Something I myself can do as well with her on a little back porch.
And Bella? She comes upstairs to just say what the fuck while also knowing this is Ok.
Plus, as a landlady, which Beck is when ya get to the nuts and bolts of it (hey, what of that water pressure by the way lady?! hehe) what better troll of a tenant can you ask for than one who will never be bringing any girlfriend relationship drama around and poundings on the wall or ceiling or floors (that kind of need has flown and really isn’t even understood anymore which I find quite strange and yet makes so much sense) but a tenant that wants just a cool place, with family for company, some extra cats to mind and a spot to sit in, in a comfy troll’s basement stringing together some words while also having and being some backups.
And, oh, before I forget, back to Arthur, of said post title.
He and Sephira are inside/outside cats so when the wrangling has you having Arthur being an in? The one who is usually the much harder grab?
Apologies my little Orange friend … now how about we wrangles that sister of yours and be done for the night?
A new thing here as to our current dire times filled with obviousness and anger, anger mostly fueled by said obviousness and with some older Trump parody tunes that still work at the end for some “umph”
I mean, who don’t like some “umph” right?
No, NOT that … f’ing people … I hate y’all … rasser frasser mummble rasser mummble frasser …
/////
Spent a good portion of the weekend, after some poetry, most of it bad poetry (which is sometimes the best poetry) working on a post where I intended to include a few of my Trump parody tunes, older ones that still work for the moment (as I tinker some new things that no one is waiting on but will at least give me momentary peace when they come) amid the current fascist clusterfuck that we find ourselves in, but it just wasn’t working for me. It may still, with a bit more attention, but for right now it was a no go, I mean I have standards to keep unlike this current whose only standard is to lie to us even more vociferously on a daily basis than the first time around and that is quite an accomplishment, it seriously is, as that former lie-fest was award worthy shit, but now it’s almost something you could commend simply for the sheer audacity of it, I mean there isn’t even a care this time to couch anything that could even remotely be considered close to fact, no, this time there is an almost gleeful and obvious disregard for anything even resembling a truthful narrative, which the first administration at least tried to fake and cover (though there were a few adults around then so …)
No this is full bore, in your mug, this is what we got now deal with it state news propaganda with a pretty face, though hers gets less pretty by the day. You’re witnessing, in real time a face spouting falsehoods and dangerous lies getting more cartoonish and ugly by the moment. You can almost see the devil she’s decided to embrace peering out through what surely once were innocent and hopeful eyes. It is some pretty strong Kool-Aid being drunk there at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
But lets be clear about one thing. There is a lot of talk being bandied about, about who is or who is not a true American or true patriot depending on whether or not you support this despot in waiting. If you do, if you still support him even after what you have seen the only one being un-American is YOU. YOU are supporting the destruction of democracy, you know, that thing you grew up with and were taught of before you were now told that that wasn’t really quite right, and the building instead of exactly what our democracy was intended to escape and protect us from. You are supporting a budding, inhuman dictatorship, period. You have NO argument to make otherwise.
That’s it. You can hem and haw and “ummm, but”, you can justify and rationalize, you can cherry pick stances, you can split rhetorical hairs or find some semantic that will allow you to escape your support of a dictatorship and the loss of freedom and liberty that will come from it when project 2025 goes into full effect but you can’t escape it no matter how you might try to word around and distance yourself from it. And this has been said over and over and over, it’s not like I’m treading any new ground here.
YOU ARE COMPLICIT in all the wrongs that are still to come and there will be many and YOU WILL OWN THEM. YOU in that complicity. You own Stephen Miller, that creepy neo-nazi weasel who fashions himself in SS uniforms in the mirror at home. You own Heil Homan, that troll who lives under a bridge in a really dark Grimm Tale and looks like he wants to eat your children. You own Margie Q Greene and her gloried ignorance. You own JD Vance and his smooth, condescending faux intelligence “free speech” only if it’s our speech bullshit. You own Pete Hegseth and his misogynistic, white supremacy. You own Nancy Mace, shit, where to even start there. You own Karoline Leavitt and her daily barrage of smiling, smirking lies. You own RFK Jr and his anti-science, anti-medicine “I’m not a doctor but I play one on TV and in cabinet meetings”. You own the references to Hitler, referenced with pride. You own Kristi Noem, and no one wants that, tight cute Cosplay ICE outfits notwithstanding. You own Linda McMahon and her artificial intelligence steak sauce. You own Brendan “State News Only” Carr, you own the whole lot and all that have acquiesced and paid their protection money. That feeling you have right now that you are covered with your fealty, your allegiance, that joy you have in this moment, most probably just a one that has finally allowed you thumb your nose at the other side and feel superior, however childish and petty and juvenile that is? It will come for you too. You will find, eventually, that the liberties you thought you had earned with your oaths and obeisance will also be taken.
No, we need to stand and brace ourselves. Make noise. A lot of noise.
Oh, and Elon Musk is robbing you/us blind as we speak, F’n devil in stupid hats.
Anyway, how about a song or three, ya know, to lighten the mood.
////////////////////////////////////////
(originally posted April 20, 2020)
“Brand New Trump Key”
(to Melanie’s “brand New Key”)
Brand New Trump Key
I rode my motorcade to your city last night
To spin some lies and give you all such a fright
To harp on victim-like and rail conspiracies
I know you trust me know I’m just what you need
.
Well, I’ve got brand new world in mind here now
Take heart my unhinged screed
I’ll be proven right my ranting now
You just need to wait and see
I know what you need it’s a Donnie me
A fascist change of scene
.
Well, I’ve got a brand new world in mind here now
It just ain’t democracy
.
I ride my plan of year twenty of twenty five
I got my dee-scipes proving be worthy scribes
Of new world order in these United States
If you don’t subscribe you’ll surely be less than great
.
Oh yeah
Hah hah hah hah
Oh you will face my wrath
Hah hah hah hah
Oh yeah yeah yeah you’ll wish you hadn’t said that
.
I ask my people to stand up and be strong
Kiss my ring say they knew it all all along
That I was chosen by the man sittin’ way up high
To lead a fascist state while democracy dies
.
Well, I’ve got a brand new way to look at things
Won’t believe what I’ll bring
A brand new U.S.A. prosperity
‘long as you call me King
La la la la la la la la la la la
Well, I’ve got a brand new world in mind here now
It just ain’t democracy
////////////////////////////////////////
(originally posted June 16, 2019)
Tricking the Whole
(to The Beatles “Fixing A Hole”)
I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King
To keep their minds from wondering
What the truth knows
.
I’m filling the gaps marking all that I say
With prop-a-ganda being way
To sell truth now
.
And it’s really heady matter for elites I lie
For a fake press I lie
The haters cry
.
But see my dog base blinding there who loyally lap at my feet
Never finding truth crumbs on the floor
.
I’m painting bona fide in a red white and blue
My fingers make confusing swirls
Till you let go
Oooh Oooh Oooh Ahh Ahh
(succumb you will in time)
Hey Hey Hey … Hey
.
And hey batter batter batter
Swing and miss my man, can’t hit this pitch you can’t
Not this big spin
.
I’m on the mound base is the crowd
They pay no mind they are fact free
See how they’re wowed by my huge back door curve
.
I never take time to study the things that were important yesterday
They don’t matter now
Oooh Oooh Oooh Ahh Ahh
Hey Hey
.
I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King
It gets my mind to wandering ’bout new royals Ohhhh
Who we could own owwwwnnn
.
I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King
My mind is always floundering
In a dark hole … in a dark hole
/////////////////////////////////////////////////
(originally posted May 7, 2022)
We Want You … To Be … We
(to Cheap Trick’s “I Want You To Want Me”
—
We want you to be we
We need you to be we
We’ll force so please just a-gree
Can’t have you livin’ feelin’ free
—
We want you to be we
Not right to live to your own de-gree
We know what’s best as only god does decree
—
We’ll shine up our partisan court, the one that’s been godly bought
Parade them over your free thought, make sure that you are sin free
—
We’re tired of spending time feelin’ persecuted
We need able dictate how your lives are executed
It’s not fair to watch you all go about your happy dailies
While we’re forced to fret and live with all your evil failings
—
We want you to be we
See country the way that it should be
Revisioned right light history
One white and straight you’ll all see
—
And shine up on all old hurts, of unallowed to convert
Bring handmaids to life, ‘cause we know just what is right
—
Will we neglect children after grabbing their first real air
Of course cause hypocrisy we’ve got plenty in spare
We’ll only find our end until it is that you all stop tryin’
Pursuit of happiness is up to us to do the decidin’
—
Ohhh!
—
We’ll work in a morality play’s future dire warnin’
But that future won’t know it from this backwards day future dawnin’
So, I stopped at Panera earlier today for a breakfast sandwich on my way to work. When I pulled in there were just a couple of cars kind of randomly parked in the middle portion of spots, 24 total, 6 on 6 in one section and 6 on 6 in another with more on either end of this middle.
I parked, away from the other two cars and made my way in, joining just those other couple of folks, ordered and waited.
While I waited, checking some news headlines on my phone which I should NOT have done, especially not on an empty stomach as, if you’re going to wretch, food is a waaaaay better wretch than bile, another few folks came in and then my order was ready and I made my way back out to the lot, the middle portion of the lot, that one that has the 24 parking spaces, only two of which were occupied, as I said, when I pulled in.
When I got to my car though, Lilly, who is not in any need of new car pals?
Ok, so here’s the thing, person who arrived after me, and also parked in the center portion of this Panera’s parking lot with those 24 almost all unoccupied spots?
I don’t care if you didn’t get enough hugs from your mother when you were a child, that maybe you didn’t have a lot of friends and the ones you did have were a little standoffish because you were a bit too needy or that maybe you were the one that was always picked last for whatever team game was at hand.
It is not my job, via my car, in an almost empty parking lot to be the one to help you compensate for that loneliness.
AND, WTF?!
You pulled in so our driver’s doors were adjacent to each other??!! I mean, you willingly chose to park so close that you would have to almost squeeze out of your car like liquid?!
Hey, my car is not your surrogate friend and I don’t need to be dragged into whatever issues you have that you’ve been harboring, possibly crying yourself to sleep at night with, since childhood.
AND you made me have to squeeze INTO my car like liquid as well and, in my advancing years, I have acquired that cliché’d spare tire that I really need to do something about, maybe come Spring I tell myself, I’ll start walking again I tell myself, as I am not as thin and liquid as I used to be and though I appreciate the reminder and that maybe you were just trying to give me a little unintentional nudge, I had just read some news headlines on an empty stomach and was in no mood for your needy/possibly well intentioned shit.
Park too close to your therapist’s car in your therapist’s lot Ok?!
Leave me the fuck out of your issues while at Panera!
You know, I should probably pick up some new walking shoes/sneaks though, Spring IS almost here.
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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A personal exploration of autism from a brother’s perspective, including family relationships, philosophy, neuroscience, mental health history and ethics
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