The Leopard and its Spots

Liberals think they can shame conservatives into behaving properly, but they're wrong. Conservatives have no shame. Conservatives have no sense of the ridiculous. They don't understand satire. You can't hold a distorted mirror up to one of them and expect him or her to respond to what they see. Their way of looking at the world is already so distorted they can't be made to appear any more comical or out of step with reality than they already are.

They look in the mirror every day and nothing they see bothers them. Their response to ridicule and humor will always be to revenge themselves on the banana peel and silence anyone who laughs. Donald Trump's recent legal suit against Bill Maher is ample proof of this. Face it, guys, you can laugh at them if you want, but don't expect them up clean up their act. A shit leopard can't change its shit spots. You can't convert a sociopath. You can't shame a shameless man.

Plenty of Nothing

"Oh, I got plenty o' nuttin'

And nuttin's plenty for me

I got no plans, got no ideas

I got no humility. . ."

--from George and Ira Gershwin's Boehner and Bess

Blame Obama Game

Play the "I blame Obama" game. Also known as "Pin the Tale on the President."

The game that's sweeping the conservative nation. And quickly replacing group sex, drinking to excess, and charades as the most popular activity at adult gatherings, tupperware parties, and pre-apocalypse get-togethers.

How to Play:
It's fun and easy! Just blame Obama! The more outrageous your assertion the better! Don't just say it! Shout it belligerently at the top of your lungs and from the rooftops! Accompany yourself with obscene hand gestures and racist rhetoric! Cite phony studies and obscure literary texts! Or put it all in the form of a prayer! Be as whiny and as annoying as possible! Be creative and sell it like a professional!

Examples of winning plays:
I ate at Taco Bell and got diarrhea. I blame Obama. My kid got a "D" in English. I blame Obama. This growth on my neck is getting larger. I blame Obama. I can't find my car keys. I blame Obama. My wife left me for another man. I blame Obama. My instant lottery ticket was a loser. I blame Obama. The milk in the fridge went bad. I blame Obama. My gold fish died. I blame Obama. The house needs dusting. I blame Obama. I can't get an erection. I blame Obama. My brain hurts. I blame Obama. My cake fell. I blame Obama. I wet myself. I blame Obama. No one loves me. I blame Obama. I can't think of anything to say. I blame Obama.

Endorsed by:
The Rush Limbaugh Show. Where ego is number #1. And women are number #9,447.
Fox News Channel. Misinformation Central. Proudly manipulating the public for our own evil ends since 1996.
Chick-Fil-A Restaurants. It's not exactly food, but it's mostly edible. We do catering, but only for right-wing extremist organizations.
Papa John Pizza. Everyone knows that food prepared with the finest ingredients and by the under-paid and the uninsured always tastes better.
Wal-Mart. Listen to the sound of prices falling and store employees signing up for government assistance.
The Rev. Franklin Graham. Don't blame God. Don't blame me. Blame the black guy.
Liberty University. Training the next generation of bigots and ignoramuses and doing so at a tidy profit.
Former Congressman Eric Cantor. I lost my seat in Congress and I blame Obama. Say, that was fun!

Can be played armed or unarmed. Special Open Carry "Cliven" Edition comes with four semi-automatic hand guns and a hundred rounds of ammunition. Standard Empty Box "Boehner" Edition comes complete with a cardboard box, shrink-wrap, and large price tag. Guns, alcohol, white hoods, book burning accessories, and Viagra sold separately. Ages 35 to 59.

Yet another fine game created by the Heartland Institute and funded by Koch Industries; the same people who brought you: Flat Earth Society, Gay Bash, The Big Lie, Government Shutdown, Prisoner Non-Exchange, My Fascist Friend, Corporate Personhood, and last month's blockbuster release, Benghazi! Benghazi!! Benghazi!!!

Please note. No animals were harmed in the production of this ad, but, if there were, we blame Obama.

Talk to People

Talk to people and listen to what they have to say. You'll be amazed at what you will find out.

Ask and probe, but don't press. Pay attention to both the answers given and the words withheld. Speech is audio in nature, but communication has a visual element to it also.

Don't assume you know something about someone until you've heard their entire story. Never react to a tale in the middle of the narrative. When you focus on a reply you miss vital information.

Don't interrupt speakers with stories about yourself. Or witty antidotes. You're not Oscar Wilde and this isn't an Edwardian cocktail party. Style points don't count.

Give advice only when advice is asked for, and then, only grudgingly. And don't be insulted if it goes unheeded. It's just advice, not a royal command. Besides, you could still be wrong. No one -- not matter how perceptive or well-meaning -- is infallible.

Most of what's wrong with the world comes from a lack of communication. Often this comes from not knowing how to communicate properly. I have done all the things I advise against and so has everyone else. Learn from my mistakes and from your own.

Be patient. Patience pays off. Be empathic. Empathy pays off. Voices and ears lead to hearts and hands.

Hung Over? Hanged Over?

A hangover is the alcoholic equivalent of being run over by a bus and then left to lay in the middle of the road for twenty-four hours.

Last Audition

I am currently auditioning for eternity. My only desire is that my performance will be remembered. But I soon will be beyond desire. And have no ear to hear the applause. Or body to take a bow. Or eyes to read the reviews. Or brain to grasp the fact. That everyone is forgotten eventually. And that eventually is an infinitesimally short period of time.

Take a picture, A glossy 8 by 10. It lasts longer. But not much. This moment and this life are almost gone. And I know deep down. That the current tap dancing clown. Is already a relic of the past. That this renaissance of words will end. And velvet night will crash to the floor. A mildewed curtain that cuts off the actor from his audience.

The cradle has rocked for the last time. A ten second earthquake of activity. Ending in solace and certainty. I chose my speech well. I wrote my own lines. I needed no props. And ended with barely enough air in my lungs to wait with bated breath. We have your name and number. You're not quite what we were looking for. But maybe. . .

Keats' Conundrum

Only poetry can describe the real world. Everyday speech is powerless to portray. The imperceptible relations. Between. The breath and the lung. The blood and the heart. The eye and the light. The thought and the word. The action and the hand.

Metaphor explains the universe. Atoms dance to woodwind accompaniment. Humming connective tissue. Between. The beast and the birth. The bird and the flight. The key and the cell. The chilblain and the wind. The ache and the journey.