Flag Portrait

An American flag waving in back of a Republican lawmaker is like Satan posing in front of a bucket of ice water.

It makes an impression visually, of course, but the intellect rebels at the thought that the two might actually be associated.

No Journey

There has been no journey. Only time filled with motion. Endless days. Rammed together on calendar pages. The first few lined out. Before the marker ink dried in the tube. And futility and boredom. Abandoned the practice. / On the wall. A picture stares at me. A face from the day I decided. Not to flip to the next page. Yet, really there was no decision. It just happened that way. / I used to wear a watch. When I cared what time it was. But the journey that wasn't made required none.

There has been no movie. Only sound and faces. A stream of images. Newsreel frames clicking by. Black and white shadows. Celluloid dreams cracked at the edges. That I've hung onto. For forever and a day. / In my ear. Others call to me. Voices from an album. Frequently played when hope was high. Yet, the bird was molting even then. As the world slipped through my fingers. / I combed my hair. When I worried about my appearance. But the movie that wasn't filmed didn't care.

There has been no life. Only sweat drenched hours. Nightmare worries. Dreams that gave up the ghost long ago. Breathing and words. Notebooks of past remarks. Inscribed on yellowing scraps. Of ancient paper. / To my mind. I've lived the celibate. My arms empty. My nose pressed to a crack in the door. Yet, I never wavered in my belief. That longing was a prelude to love and living. / I spoke loudly. When I thought there was something to say. But the life that wasn't lived demanded silence.

Eric Cantor Jokes

I've invented a new type of joke; the Eric Cantor Joke:

1] If insincerity were a hashes, Eric Cantor could be a Colombian drug lord.
2] If insincerity were fecal matter, Eric Cantor would be the world record holder for biggest bump.
3] If insincerity were shredded paper, Eric Cantor could be a ticker tape parade for Jesus Christ.
4] If insincerity were salt water, Eric Cantor would be the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans combined.
5] If insincerity were piss, Eric Cantor could supply urine for mandatory drug tests for every welfare applicant in the state of Florida for a generation.
6] If insincerity were soft ice cream, Eric Cantor would drive Dairy Queen out of business.
7] If insincerity were fissionable material, Eric Cantor would be banned from traveling to Iran.
8] If insincerity were beer, Eric Cantor could be a kegger at Delta Tau Chi House.

Silence of the Lambs, The Musical

Silence of the Lambs, The Musical

The Idea:
The only show currently on Broadway with dancing cannibals. An unconventional, but highly palatable love story. A love triangle between Clarice, Hannibal, & Crazy Guy.

Selling Points:
Singing. Dancing. Unspeakable Carnage. Group Rates Available. Specials Discounts for People with Strong Stomachs.

Song List:
01] Do I Hear a Lamb? (flashy opening number) - Clarice & The Chorus
02] I Wanna Be Loved to Death (a semi-serious duet) - Crazy Guy & Victim
03] Saturday Night Lockup (a novelty number) - Clarice & Boss
04] I Could Eat You Up (a Cole Porter-esque love song) - Hannibal
05] New Skin For a Lonely Guy (an old fashioned love song) - Crazy Guy
06] FBI Waltz (a slow number with plenty of stately choreography) - Clarice & Agents
07] A Caged Heart (a possible show stopper) - Hannibal
08] I've Grown Accustomed to Eating Your Face (a reflection on love and fine dining) - Hannibal
09] Dance Around the Pit (a Bob Fosse style dance routine) - Crazy Guy
10] Lector's Lecture (a talky song) - Hannibal
11] Pinto Beans, a Nice Chianti, and Thou (a problematic love song) - Hannibal & Clarice
12] Father Issues/Mother Complex (a split-screen duet) - Clarice & Crazy Guy
13] Infrared Hot (a hot dance number) - The Chorus & The Hannibal Dancers
14] Shot in the Dark (Stephen Sondheim eat your heart out) - Clarice
15] Finale: On a Plane to Somewhere/Til We Meet Again (the big ending) - Clarice & Hannibal

Reviews:
"The most tasteless show since The Sound of Music."
"I laughed. I cried. I bought carry out. What more can you ask from a night at the theatre?"
"Role of Hannibal should have been cast with a real cannibal. Face eating in Act Two didn't look real."
"Not exactly my cup of tea, but evidently this is what the kids like these days."
"A powerhouse of a show. The audience really ate it up!"
"The seats were comfortable and there was a bar across the street. Enjoyed SOTLTM mucho much."
"This show screams out for a sequel. No, sorry, that was the woman sitting behind me."

NOTE: No Texans were harmed in the production of this show.

I have a funny idea this might actually be do-able.

Creation and Killing

Hunting is a noble pursuit. Who wouldn't want to be identified with this guy?

Why DOES the Caged Bird Sing?

Within every creature born is the desire to hear and to see

To venture beyond the self is the birth right of each living thing.

Not to control, not to perform, but the mere impulse to be

Fills every cat in the wood, fish at the flood, and bird on the wing.

Walls and bars cannot prevent the spirit from roaming free

If she cannot fly she will dance, if she cannot dance she will sing.

Rabbit Lunch

One of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite films:

DANNY: These are good sprouts.
MAC: I saw a man on the beach today. Who was that?
GORDON: That would be Ben.
MAC: Does he live in the shack?
GORDON: Yes.
MAC: And he lives there all year?
GORDON: Oh, yes.
MAC: Doesn't he get cold?
GORDON: Oh, he's used to it. How's the caserole de lapan?
MAC: Excellent. Terrific. Thank you.
DANNY: Lapan, that's rabbit. . .
MAC (to Gordon): Is this my rabbit?
GORDON: Yes.
MAC: Trudy!
GORDON: We don't allow animals in the rooms. We should have told you sooner.
MAC: It was a pet, not an animal. It had a name. You don't eat things with names. This is horrific!
GORDON: It was a rabbit, that's all. It was in shock with a broken leg. It was in pain.
DANNY: Excuse me, Mr. Urquart, but I think you were being a bit hasty. Mac was looking after it. All it needed was lots of rest and the proper treatment. There was every chance for a full recovery and a fully active life. Mac was on top pf the situation.
GORDON (to Stella): Mac didn't like the rabbit.
DANNY: Mac loved the rabbit. That's just the point. It had a name. It had two names!
GORDON: I'm sorry, there just isn't a whole lot I can do. We're past the point of calling in the vets.
STELLA: Don't be such a clown, Gordon. Get into the kitchen and make some coffee.
GORDON: It had a broken leg. It was a clean snap. You can check the bones in the dish if you don't believe me. . .
STELLA: I'm sorry, Mac, but we eat rabbits here. The vet would have done the same. I didn't know it had a name.
MAC: It's okay, Stella.
STELLA: You don't have to finish it if you don't want to. How was it, anyway?
MAC: It was nice. Apart from it being Trudy, it was nice.
STELLA: What lovely eyelashes you have.
MAC: Was it a wine sauce?
STELLA: Yea. Yea, I just let it simmer for a couple of hours in some white wine. Why did you call it Trudy?
MAC: No reason.

Dick Bolder & Prick Fresher

How did Dennis Miller become such a dick? Is it possible for your mother to drop you on your head when you're forty-five? Rumor has it there's a video floating around the internet where he actually -- physically, I mean -- sticks his head up Bill O'Reilly's ass.

Managerial Hierarchies

Those who can: do. Those who can’t: supervise. Those who can’t supervise: manage. You get the idea. Managerial hierarchies are all based on flowering levels of incompetence.

GOP Racism

Republicans continue to deny that their party is racist, but I say: if it looks like a chicken and walks like a chicken and lays eggs like a chicken, it doesn't necessarily have to squawk like a chicken to be recognized as a chicken.

The racism is in their politics, folks, even when it's left out of their actual language. As they say, the proof is in the pudding. The South called segregation: "separate but equal." They didn't call it: "let's fuck over the black man."

Ignorance of Ignorance

“Not ignorance, but ignorance of ignorance

is the death of knowledge.”

ALFRED NORTH WHITEHEAD

Score one for Russell's buddy. You can't teach anything to someone who thinks they know everything already.

One Step

One step can be the beginning of a lifelong journey. Be sure to wear comfortable shoes.

All Sales Final

Flowers die; it’s a fact of life; accept it. Trying to return them to the florist for a refund will only make you look foolish.

Big Rally

Can't stop to chat. I'm going to the big "Suppress the Vote" rally over at the Joe McCarthy charter school. Are you coming? I have two extra signs. IMPEACH OBAMA and THE POPE IS A COMMIE. Which one would you like to carry? Oh, and don't forget your assault riffle. They're having a penis size contest. Biggest gun wins a case of Viagra.

 

All the biggies will be there. Pat Robertson has been asked to conduct the pre-rally prayer asking God to "take out" the President. Ted Nugent is going to do a heavy metal version of The Star Spangled Banner while simultaneously shitting his pants. And Pat Sajak is giving a talk on patriotic racism and global warming. It should be interesting. No, no, it's come as white as you are; hood optional, of course.

Second Amendment Period

Soon the right to keep and bear arms will be the only right any of us have left. We will effectively be slaves. Slaves with guns. Trained to point our weapons at each other whenever tempers boil over; and not use them to deal with our corporate masters. Life will be brutal and pointless, but it'll be interesting.

On the bright side, a constitution with only one amendment will be both easier to read and easier to memorize for school children. And we can get rid of the Supreme Court. Or, at least, cut down the number of justices sitting on it. With only one amendment, there won't be enough work for nine people.

Me, I Am No One

Me, I have my writing. A computer. A keyboard. A screen. A pen. A notebook. A scrap of paper. Tools of a trade. Small thoughts with no market and few followers. It keeps me going when nothing else is going. Introspect is suspect among the extroverts of the world. Language skills are lost on the rhetorically challenged. And those so busy planting flowers they've never stopped to smell a rose.

Me, I keep to myself. A small room. A chair. An overhead fan. A door. A window. A glimpse of the eternal. Strong walls. Barriers betwixt the enemy and myself. I am as happy in my tomb as any dead man. Poetry is a pariah for the writers of popular fiction. And those who persist in the tradition are outcasts. In the eyes of tin-eared consumers with fifth grade vocabularies and tiny ambitions.

Me, I am no one. A philosopher. A clown. A word wizard. A hairless hacker. A high-wire walker. An old campaigner. Brief insights. Verbal acrobatics freely performed. It fills the hours with the illusion of life. The quiet man with a beard lost amide the clean-shaven, mouthy masses. They couldn't understand me even if they wanted to. And I'm the last scheduled item on their check list of banalities.

Turn Texas Blue

I'm as much of a optimist as anyone, but the only way Texas is going to turn blue in 2014 is if the Democrats can get the entire population of the state to hold their breaths for five minutes. . .

I Had a Dream of Moonlight

Every once in a while I catch myself smiling for no reason. I explain this momentary instant of joy by saying that I've seen the face of God and then, just as quickly, forgotten my vision. The smile is the aftermath of seeing or sensing the divine in the world around me. This is an old poem, but I like it. It just goes to show that even an agnostic has his spiritual moments:

I had a dream of moonlight
  Knifing through the night
    A single silver shaft
      Cold but strikingly bright;
Lighting the road beneath my feet
  Casting shadows across the street
    Straight as Aaron's staff
      Or a field of winter wheat.
I heard God speak, to me he spoke
I dreamt a dream and then awoke.

I had the thought of sunshine
  Falling on the blind
    Pouring into the room
       Like honey colored wine;
Bringing to mind the days ahead
  Free of fear, devoid of dread
    Confident as a groom
      Or a bride newly wed.
I saw a kingdom, my own Camelot
I had a thought and then had not.

I caught a glimpse of Paradise
  Amide the snow and ice
    A haven for the heart
      An illusion but nice;
Shimmering in the sun's last rays
  Glowing like a cathedral ablaze
    Apart yet a part
      Of all our daunted days.
I try to explain and I am undone
I caught a glimpse but only one.

Pat Sajak, Climatologist

If you believe in climate change, Pat Sajak
thinks you're an "unpatriotic racist."

1] Before we accept this as wisdom for the ages, let's hear what Vanna has to say.
2] Why does anyone care what a game show host thinks?
3] Ed Grimley just took down your picture, Pat.

4] Pat Sajak is clearly a letter or two short of a full alphabet. Maybe he should buy a vowel.
5] If you ask me, Pat has spent far too many hours sejaking off.

I think I've hit all the obvious jokes here. I have some others, but they all have to something to do with his hair. Pat's hair, not Ed's.

Ben Carson and the ACA

Why would a seemingly intelligent, articulate man compare Obamacare to slavery? Ignorance of history? Premature senility? Speech impediment? Love of hyperbole? Mouthpiece for others? Hiding from reality? All of the above?

Monsanto

Government was created to protect the community from the machinations of predatory individuals, not to empower their schemes and protect them from communal censure.

Card Game

Play your cards as well as you can even if the hand you've been dealt is garbage. Bet everything you own. Leave nothing off the table. There is no tomorrow and there are no other games.

Easy/Bad

The line of least resistance is the road to obscurity and unhappiness. Test yourself. . . often.

Money

Money is a means to an end, not an end unto itself. Work to live, don’t live to work. Possessions are anchors on the voyage of life.

Flag

My life hangs- 

waving in the wind-

a flag tattered and torn-

waiting for the next gust to send it-

winging to points unknown.

Gypsy rag soars-

above a flightless flock-

a shirt stained and worn-

bleeding a trail of blue denim rain-

sojourning forward alone.

Cosmetic Advice

Smiling gives you wrinkles.

Laughing gives you laugh lines.

Who the hell cares?

Small Stuff

Sweat all the small stuff and ignore the large stuff. The large stuff is what ultimately gives you all the trouble. The longer you ignore it, the happier you’ll be.

Washington and Jefferson

Freddy "Boom-Boom" Washington

and George Jefferson

RIP  for two television icons

and two great Americans

And let's not forget Horshack and Weezy. They couldn't have done without you. . .

Jesus and Jefferson

Without the Protestant Reformation and the subsequent birth of the secular state, the type of religious intolerance and autocratic control that persists in much of the Muslim world would be the rule in Europe and the Americas also. Martin Luther's break with Rome paved the way for both the scientific revolution and the rise of democracy. It took years for people of different faiths to learn to live together, but once they did they created a society that was more egalitarian than any that had preceded it.

The complete and total separation of Church and State is the bedrock of freedom in America and in the West. Liberty excels when religion is free from state control and government is free from sectarian interference. Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's. It's in the Constitution and it's in the Bible. On this one point Jesus and Jefferson were in full agreement; although I'm sure the two men never discussed the matter at length.

Choreography

Love is a dance sometimes. Two steps forward, one step back, a half turn, a dip, a twirl, a bow to your partner, and a kiss to end the movement. Sometimes it’s a little less stately, but there’s always choreography involved.

Finite

No one is indispensable. In a universe of infinite size, no one takes up more than a finite amount of space. Make your contribution, but don’t worry about your place in history.

Do Better

Twenty-five hundred years ago, Confucius agonized over how best to get intelligent, ethical people involved in government and public administration. Today, we are no nearer to solving this dilemma than he was. The only thing we do know is that representative democracy as practiced in America in the twenty-first century is not the answer. Good people -- the active brains and the live hearts -- do not run for public office very often. And when they do, their chances of actually getting elected are slim and none. Electability is based on financial resources, not intelligence, ability, or good intentions. Getting elected and staying in office means abandoning your ethics in favor of the ethics of those willing and able to finance your campaign. A good person keeps his ethics and instead abandons his quest for public office.

The practical upshot of this is that ninety-five percent of public assembles are populated by party hacks (John Boenher), children of wealthy parents (John McCain), dedicated sociopaths (Paul Ryan), and functioning psychotics (Michele Bachmann). A look at the current Congress would leave Confucius scratching his ancient beard. A nation of three hundred and twenty million souls -- many of them well educated, high minded and public spirited, energetic and empathetic, and patriotic -- should be able to do better than the parade of human refuge that file in and out of Washington every two years. In dairy production, the cream always rises to the top. In a democracy, the complete opposite is true. The best part of humanity languishes at the bottom of the political barrel and the worst people rise to prominence and power.

Wake

alone in a crowded room
lost amide the cacophony
of movement and sound
I move cautiously around
as if the space were empty
exploring
the glare and the gloom.

naked underneath my clothes
conscious of imperfections
and accordingly disguised
I try to avert my eyes
from dangerous directions
declining
to appear verbose.

posing as someone fair
my true self hidden behind
a mask of self-assurance
I labor to make sense
of the blind leading the blind
running
this gauntlet of despair.

Social media is: Not therapy. Not friendship. Not CNN. Social media is: Minimum help. Minimum involvement. Minimum interest. Social media is: What it is. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The Stooges Live Again

Possible Sketch for SNL. A Three Stooges parody with Paul Ryan (Moe), John Boenher (Larry), and Ted Cruz (Curly). Ryan and Boenher are setting up the podium for the coming Benghazi hearings and Cruz comes over from the Senate to help. Boenher accidentally hits Ryan in the head with a swinging two-by-four and Ryan responds by pulling out Boehner's hair and poking him in the eye. (No, Paul, No!) Cruz is eating a large jar of limburger cheese; he sets it down and Ryan sits in it. An embarrassed Ryan responds by dumping the cheese down the front of Cruz's trousers and by slapping Cruz and Boenher repeatedly. Trey Gowdy arrives to test the podium, slips on a board, and sends Ryan's "handyman's" box flying into the air. Tools are thrown in every direction. Ryan, Boenher, and Cruz all avoid being hit, but a stage line has been severed and three sandbags fall to the ground, hitting each of them squarely on top of the head. They fall down in a pile and the end music plays.

Some Days

Some days are darker than others. Some days I spend several hours with my hand on the lamp switch. Some days I just open the blinds and wait for the moon to appear. Some days I lie in bed with my eyes closed tightly. Some days I pull the shadows up to my chin like an old blanket. Some days I peek through a hole in the fog and reach for a light up ahead.

Say Something

Silence is always the easiest option; it is, however, rarely the best solution. Always say something; it’s better to look foolish than to look cowardly.

Party Time

A SAM WALTON FAMILY REUNION

The world's richest family get together to remember old times and to plot world domination.

Ladder and Basket

You can't pick your own oranges in a apple orchard. The fact that you brought a ladder and a basket is completely inconsequential.

Fewer Days Ahead

In the featherless margins. Of another grey day. I pause to listen. To a symphony.
It is blue sky. It is youth and longing. It is fear and redemption. It is water for a dusty soul.

In the mossy shadows. Beneath a dying tree. I stop to smell. The earth and then a rose.
The humid air. Is filled with life. And in life. I draw solace. Like blood from a stone.

In the damp morning. Clouds massing above. I feel thunder. In aching brittle bones.
The world outside. Seeps into pores. And pours into eyes. Open for the first time.

In the quiet gloom. Of an empty house. I strain to see. Light leaking from a window edge.
And I am content. With old photographs. With few words. And fewer days ahead.

One-Hour Catholics

I was lucky enough to be raised by a pair of one-hour Catholics. We went to church on Sunday, but no one felt the need to discuss why. When it came time to debate the matter, my parents had little stomach for argument and I was allowed to think whatever I wanted to think. My adolescent challenges to my mother's and father's belief systems were met with half-hearted defenses. Subsequently, I lost the faith as easily as one might lose a key when their key-ring rusts through and snaps in their pocket. I hardly noticed the event. It was not a momentous occasion for me.

I agree with Shaw. If you teach your child religion, teach them not to take it too seriously. Faith is but a first step on the road to fanaticism. By nature, all religions are superstitious and intolerant; two patterns of thought all parents should actively seek to prevent their children from falling into. Teach your child to think for themselves and to create a system of beliefs based upon their own thoughts and observations. Encourage them to investigate questions that interest them and to hold the answers they find gingerly and without dogma. Honesty and humility are more important than comfortable, conventional piety.

People subscribe to a religion -- and to religion in general -- for a number of reasons. Sense of community. Love of ritual. Moral certitude. These are all valid reasons for individual faith, but their extreme subjectivity render each less than universal in scope or appeal. For someone objectively seeking the truth, more is required. A systematic program of pragmatic personal study is of infinitely more value than communal history, family tradition, or respect for one's elders. It has been my experience that the people who hold religion most in regard are those who have thought about it the least.

I take my current non-belief far more seriously than I ever took the lukewarm faith of my youth. And this has as much to do with education and self-examination as it does with age and maturity level. When confronted with hardship or ill-luck, I turn to science or logic for comfort or help. The idea of religion as a resource or God as an explanation for that which is unknown has never appealed to me much. I don't pray nor do I desire to be prayed for. I fear intellectual dishonesty more than the wrath of a distant deity. For all of this I thank my parents; not so much for what I was taught, but for what I was allowed to learn on my own.

Krauthammer's Monster

Does this guy look like Frankenstein's monster or what? I'm not kidding. Just add a couple of bolts protruding from the neck and he'd be a dead ringer. No pun intended.

I Will Be Gone

If we're lucky we get seventy-five years of life and another fifty or sixty years of near-life in the hearts and minds of others. But I'm not a lucky person. I think the world will forget me sooner than that. Nothing I've ever done has been chiseled in stone. And my writing in the sand is already being washed away by water and wind. I feel myself eroding as I speak. I am a small fire that warmed a body or two for a moment or two and then burned out. Time will pass, the rains will come, and my embers will grow cold.

When I die I will be gone. All my thoughts, all my feelings, everything I was or could ever be will pass from the world with my last breath. My life means nothing, I know that. I fill space. I watch the clock. I morn myself. My personality will disappear. My body will quickly decay. And soon, very soon the memory of me will be all that remains. But a life in memory is no life at all. And the few brain cells that cling to my image will die also. And with their passing, the cup of me will be drained.

If someone reads this passage after I'm dead, know that somebody labored over it once; chose their thoughts and words carefully; and set their aching fingers on a keyboard when they could have laid their head on a pillow instead. You are seeing that brief instant when a flame flickered, burned strongly for a short while and then died out. Every human is a biography in flesh; every year on earth a page; every face encountered a footnote. Watch your fingers on my edge. Even a voice ancient and forgotten may draw blood.

Sun Goes Down

Sun goes down on a sullen day
Its flight hidden by clouds of grey
What else do you want me to say?

Moon slides into a broken sky

Its thin beams but a silver sigh

What point is there in asking why?

Stars hang over a dark desolation

Their sharp points an army of occupation

Why should we question our situation?

Lamps light the limp landscape

Neighborhood ghosts defined by shape

When does Dracula come for his cape?

Sun comes up on another day
Its fingers touching growth and decay
What more could I possibly say?

Spare the Rod

1] You cannot beat goodness into a child. You will only teach him to mask his bad behavior with rhetorical dishonesty. Violence creates hypocrites, not saints.

2] No adult has ever inflicted more pain on himself that upon the youngster he raises his hand to strike. Prefacing a spanking by asserting the contrary is a lie. You know it, I know it and, more importantly, the child knows it.

3] Never hit a child in cold blood. Spontaneous violence is a human weakness and can be forgiven. Calculated cruelty is a blot on the human soul and, subsequently, much harder to excuse.

4] There is no evidence that "sparing the rod" will spoil your child. If your real aim is to improve his or her character and not merely to relieve your own frustration, it is better to find alternative means of discipline.

Inner and Outer

Assuming someone has inner strength or inner wisdom or inner beauty is like assuming a crate of oranges hides a single apple. You may be right -- I mean, it's theoretically possible -- but a logical assessment of the facts would assume that that which is hidden within is probably more of that which is showing on the surface.

Just In. . .

Just in. Judge sentences chicken killing fox to do community service hours at hen house counseling motherless chicks.

Just in. Bear on probation for mauling elderly woman wins free claw sharpening in NRA Raffle.

Stupid Bird

The smartest chicken in the hen house is deemed the coup intellect. Chickens are still notoriously stupid birds.

Are You Free?

Are you busy? Are you free? Same question. Different answer. Same outcome. It's called the "Are You Being Served" paradox.

Psycho Artist

Possible Sketch for SNL. A Psycho parody with Norman Rockwell replacing Norman Bates as the owner of a seedy, off the main highway motel. Instead of stabbing Janet Leigh to death in the shower, he paints her portrait in an annoying folksy Americana style. When she sees the picture she lets out a blood-curdling scream and grabs for the canvas. The last shot can be one of oil paint running down her arm.