Empty Reflection

Nothing was delivered And I tell this truth to you, Not out of spite or anger But simply because it's true. Bob Dylan

We Repeat Ourselves

John F. Kennedy: "When we got into office, the thing that surprised me the most was that things were as bad as we'd been saying they were."

Churp!

Note to Cricket (making her list): I haven't even visited the backside of my stomach!

Lonesome Dove

I'm an old pervert From the Rio Grande...

The Chubby Traveller

I met her at a bus station one night
On the way to God knows where.
She thought she'd just met Santa Claus.
It was right after SHE SAID that
Someone else had called her a little tramp
And left her there as alone as I was, or thereabouts.
She wasn't going anywhere, it seemed,
And God knows I wasn't much.
She was overly inclined to drink and
She was equally disinclined to pay,
So she needed a lot of friends.
Together we made an undertow
Through that bar that night, though for her
it might as well have been through the nearest river.
We were, I guess, a disreputable pair,
Call it what you will,
She didn't like the whiskey and she didn't like me
And didn't want to pay (at first) for anything at all
When the darkness of night rolled around
In that cheap motel room!
Lord, she was a drunk.
But she liked to play with my belly
And bounce it against her own,
And like she used to hum relentlessly
In that boppy old Beatles song,
You know that can't be bad!

What'd He Say?

HAVE A HAPPY HOPPY HOLIDAY,
OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT!

At Least She's A Woman

Elaine Gill: "If you have any doubts that we live in a society controlled by men, try reading down the index of contributors to a volume of quotations, looking for women's names."

Intelligent Post, With Sugar Cookies

Good ole Larry's been busy with his guitar, but also paused to tell us this touching story about joblessness and metropolitan fury in a post called Cookies.

Plus What's This Thirteen Jazz?

Note: Those of you who have slummed in my help blog, "Most Frequent Blogger Questions, but not recently, ought to pay it a visit and see the decorations. No, not Christmas spangles, just a touch of table color!

Meanwhile, there's this 13 perverted Xmas thoughts:

1. start with people who don't fully spell out Christmas. Kick 'em. Kick 'em till they squeak! 2. grab those people who act like elves--stamp 'em out! 3. anyone singing seasonal songs has got to go. Out the car window at 30 mph. 4. anyone playing seasonal songs on the radio should forfeit their right to breathe until next Xmas. 5. if your nose is turning red, stop drinking. That's all, just stop it! 6. if you're asked to impersonate a reindeer, hit the requester with an ashtray. 7. if I run over Santa and his sled by accident, I plan to stop and back up to see who it was! 8. all elves who can run fast enough will be allowed to live. 9. if anyone asks you to help decorate a Christmas tree, you don't have to pee on it. Just smear butter on it. 10. you should attempt to have carnal knowledge of all "angels" who are ascertained to be 18 or over. 11. Meanwhile, try not to bugger any cute little elf boys! 12. Gee, for that matter, don't bugger any of the reindeer! 13. In fact, don't bugger anybody who's holding fragile Christmas decorations or moving around--you might miss and make a mess!

Test

Here it comes:

• this is one.
  
• this is two.
  
• this is three bullets.
  

There it goes. Ain't this fun?

Important Stuff

I've been napping again; piddle on the rest of you guys! I didn't accomplish a thing. I don't even remember what I was going to accomplish. If I wasn't so worthless, I'd go buy cookies. Or something.

Heaven Forfend

I sat at the computer last night falling asleep repeatedly over a long period of time. I do that more often lately, whether it be day or night. Only the deepest interest keeps me fully awake. I wonder what's going on? I'm doing it again this afternoon and tonight. Old age. Goddamn!

What's That Whistling Sound?

Woke up this morning and Yahoo News reported that the commies dropped the bomb and the Islamic terrorists caught it. Embarrassed about saving the world, a worldwide conference of known non-commie assholes (WCKNCA) was called for next week to decide what to do with it. It is expected that everybody in America within hailing distance of any metropolitan area can bend over and kiss their ass goodbye (as was always promised). Better do it now. Don't want to be taken by surprise.

Mommy, what's that?"

"Nothing, dear, pay no attention."

KAVOOMP!

A Rumination In Progress

I've been leaf-blowing and raking leaves and I'm exhausted. I'd hate to estimate the time because it seemed so long to me and the clock would probably disagree! So I'm resting here, regardless of reality. I know reality; it beat me up last week.

I'd like to take a nap, but I slept late, so I'd have very little excuse if I did. I can't even wish for someone to talk to for distraction; I have a slight sore throat at present and occasionally can barely get my voice to start. Very weird. I used to know people at work (correction, just Diane T.) who'd come to work with the most awful sounding raspy voice and say she was okay, it was just her voice. I never had anything like that and thought she was just being brave so she didn't have to miss work. Now I see what she meant.

Twice lately, I've had the fragments of a poem occur to me after I'd turned out the light and covered up in bed. Then I just laid there, too tired or too warm to get up and make some quick notes. I have notebooks and paper all over the place, but I guess it's not convenient enough. Professional Scuba divers have special notebooks that will write under water, so I guess I need some special thing that will float over to me like Samantha's bewitched items when I'm in need of being creative in bed! Anyway, as usual, I DID NOT wake up the next morning with a memory of what things were wishing to be born the night before. My brain was blank--just start over, I guess--if anything would start!

Haiku, Wouldn't You?

I hate haiku
achoo
close as i get.

I Want To Hold Her Hand!

Petula Clark?!
On Pandora Internet radio just now, Petula Clark was singing the Beatles' song, "I Want To Hold Your Hand", which (if not funny) is kind of poetic payback, I would think. It was the Beatles and other dopers of the time that pushed Petula's more middle-of-the-road music aside back then. I liked her songs well enough at the time, but I was part of the crowd, I turned aside from her and listened to the new rave stuff! I think it was probably not until sometime in the eighties that I saw her costar with Peter O'Toole in a 1969 remake of "Goodbye Mr. Chips" and I fell in love with her. From then on, I always paused if I heard of or saw her anywhere and tried to think good thoughts toward her to make up for the shifty attention I've given her earlier in life. I was old enough that it was probably no longer just sex. And she was old enough by then that I'm sure she didn't worry about it at all. I hope Peter O'Toole was polite to her. It would really fuck up my high opinion of his drunken ass if I found out otherwise! So, watch it, Peter! Guess it doesn't matter much, does it? I find it curious that she recorded it 1965. Surely that was far too soon after the Beatles' version, too deep in the belly of the beast! Maybe she had loyal fans that bought it anyway. I'm not going to check into it, unless Twilight comes around and tells me about it. I'm just glad to see she survived, even if I don't much see her. It's funny sometimes how people can desperately desire to tell some famous person how attractive they are. I guess it's a form of lust, really, and therefore not fit subject of conversation. Whoever had a name like Petula, anyway? I never knew anyone else with it!

Petula With Dean Martin

My Xmas Inspirations

What Inspires Me? Reindeer who don't get drunk and insist on driving Every Christmas. Great songs. Women's behinds. Women's fronts. Character of older women's faces. (What am I, anyway?) Dogs that are kind to children and old people. Anybody that's kind to children and old people. Anybody that's kind to me. People who don't let their dogs bark until kingdom come! Poets out of the blue. A handjob at any time. Is this thirteen yet? I keep losing track because this is an "ordered" list and all I can see are the opening tag <li> and the closing tag </li> Fug.

Poll Trends

Glancing at my results so far in the two polls I have up in MFBQ (my Help blog), it would seem that I have an approximate 25% negative vote in both of them. Neither one has been up very long (I mean to leave them going for a year total), so I'm just noting the trend so far. Larger numbers of visitors may or may not change the poll numbers. It kinda bums me out so far, but one must be tolerant of all feedback; one shouldn't take one's poll and go home! So I'll hang on. (It's not like it's very difficult!) Wack!!! I note that the counter zoomed past 50 thousand and I didn't even note it! I knew it was coming, but didn't look when the speedometer turned over! God, I just have no concentration!

Touchy Feely?

E. B. White: "People are, if anything, more touchy about being thought silly than they are about being thought unjust."

Dr. Zhivago--How'd He Get Here?!

What, no comments today? That's worse than no posts!!! Oh, well, there were two emails I could flirt with, but only slightly. Are there no strangers to be "had"? Ho hum and on we go. Who remembers Dr. Zhivago's love for his wife and his mistress in the movie? At the time, I wasn't very sympathetic; I thought he should just dump one and get on with it. Sitting around these days with neither wife nor mistress, I heartily admire his predicament and his inability to purge his heart of either one.

Wild And Wooly

If I just keep pouring out these short meaningless posts, I'll arrive at 1500 wild and wooly ones in no time. It's 1475 already!

Dear God

Jewish Proverb: "If God lived on earth, people would break his windows."

Black Shirt, Trim Hat

Windows And Doors, Part 2

"Dance on fire as it intends"

I bought a Doors CD with about 30 thousand songs on it the other day and have been rehashing all my memories and thoughts associated with that time. The late sixties don't seem so far away, but as the liner notes point out, the Doors have now enjoyed 40 years of popularity with generation after generation. Meanwhile I aged into this stage of crud and crabby derisiveness. It's odd how good, how visceral, how Everything all these songs still are for me. Some of them are quite Mad, you know (said the Hatter). "When The Music's Over" is no mere cup of tea, I'll tell you. And "The End", with it's "kill kill kill kill, kill, kill" (six kills) to add to the insinuation of motherfucking and fatherfucking murder going on before it! Morrison quite liked his madness, I'd say. But does it mean that I didn't/don't like the Doors' music? Not a bit of it! In fact, I find I still like nearly every bit of it. I don't care what you say, I find them Very Tasty! Refined Vulgarity? Maybe Jim Morrison was a pervert. But, after careful consideration, I reckon so'm I. Guess I never grew up. All of this, of course, is not to mention that the Doors were a band that quite simply Rocked!!! It's not sex, but it's not bad! "I'll tell you this No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn" from "Texas Radio And The Big Beat"

WHEN THE MUSIC'S OVER

Yeah, cmon
When the musics over
When the musics over, yeah, when the musics over
Turn out the lights, turn out the lights
Turn out the lights, yeah
When the musics over x3
Turn out the lights x3
For the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end x3
Cancel my subscription to the resurrection
Send my credentials to the house of detention
I got some friends inside
The face in the mirror wont stop
The girl in the window wont drop
A feast of friends, alive! she cried
Waitin for me, outside!
Before I sink, into the big sleep
I want to hear, I want to hear
The scream of the butterfly
Come back, baby, back into my arm
Were gettin tired of hangin around
Waitin around with our heads to the ground
I hear a very gentle sound, very near yet very far
Very soft, yeah, very clear, come today, come today
What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences and dragged her down
I hear a very gentle sound
With your ear down to the ground
We want the world and we want it... x2
Now, now? , now!
Persian night, babe, see the light, babe
Save us!, jesus!, save us!
So when the musics over
When the musics over, yeah
When the musics over
Turn out the lights x3
Well the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end x3

THE END

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land

Lost in a Roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah

There's danger on the edge of town
Ride the King's highway, baby
Weird scenes inside the gold mine
Ride the highway west, baby

Ride the snake, ride the snake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby
The snake is long, seven miles
Ride the snake...he's old, and his skin is cold

The west is the best
The west is the best
Get here, and we'll do the rest

The blue bus is callin' us
The blue bus is callin' us
Driver, where you taken' us

The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall
He went into the room where his sister lived, and...then he
Paid a visit to his brother, and then he
He walked on down the hall, and
And he came to a door...and he looked inside
Father, yes son, I want to kill you
Mother...I want to...fuck you

C'mon baby, take a chance with us
C'mon baby, take a chance with us
C'mon baby, take a chance with us
And meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin' a blue rock
On a blue bus
Doin' a blue rock
C'mon, yeah

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

It hurts to set you free
But you'll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die

This is the end

Windows And Doors

Hi, it's me! A pretty hard thing to do after all these decades! Maybe we can grind some bones down to dust and store them in a nice new box with a tight lid. Better than those damn vases--it's too difficult to even pronounce "vase" correctly, don't you think? But what is correctly? I don't have to do it here... Today I told myself I'd have to stop eating so many damn cookies because my pants are too tight. Really too tight. Today I got one of the few size 38's out of the closet and they fit, unfortunately. Those pants will make it more difficult to lose the few pounds I need to shed in order to fit size 36 again. I need to do this. You have to remember I was size 42 not so long ago and it makes me feel crazy the idea that I'd "grow" back into all my worn-out fat man's clothes! Don't let it happen! Send lawyers, guns, and money! No, not the money! I'd just buy sugar-free (but not calorie-free) cookies with it! Wait a minute! If somebody'd send even more money, maybe I could go buy new larger pants and just get more and more fat to fill them out! Civilization started deteriorating this way, I guess... "Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection; Send my credentials to the house of detention, I got some friends inside..." the doors More about The Doors later.

Joe Blow Blogs

There is something about a blog that just slogs on and on. Or maybe I've read all the wrong ones. Most of them start at some point and hardly ever seem to successfully transmute, change, alter identity, graduate, or start wearing a suit and tie instead of tee shirts and shorts. Not even the other way around! There have been a few, but they were the few "famous" ones I've come in contact with, not the Joe Blow blogs that I was reading when they were still "nobodies"! Of course, I'm one of those Joe Blow blogs. I would never expect to rise above all this, to stop cussing and be main stream, to manage a sensible post almost every day of my existence. Too many days I feel crappy and give myself permission to be so as fully or as passionately so as I wish! Is that just plain stinkin' shit or what?! La di dah...

Poop!

My damn stupid header has been messed up from the beginning in many more ways than this one. This one is actually the least bad, so I may settle for it, mistrusting Blogger's penchant for "changing the room" without explanation. I think I will just choose to love it until further notice. Blogger can eat a big one, I don't care. I won't be bothered by it any more!!! I don't think...

Fucking Crazy

I'd rather beat my head against a brick wall than listen to such shit, but President Bush still thinks Iran is the same thing he said they wuz even though they're not! Iran is Just As Goddamn Evil, it appears, even though the news is that they quit their nuclear program years ago?! How do you figure that? Presidential logic? Oh, sure, they're assholes, and they're malevolent toward our interests, but almost every foreign country is. We don't really like the British, the French, or the Israelis--we just SAY we do in public. At any rate, I no longer hope for any particular democrat or even for a democrat to be our next President, I just hope it's someone not as fucking crazy as this one!!!

The Wallows

"Stinkin' shit,"
I proclaimed to the world,
Though I had no more notion then than now
Just what I was being so bitterly brilliant about.
Oh, fuck, it gets so tiresome holding on,
Keeping my proper Face on, not taking any misstep
Or falling on my ass or my melting face.

What good would it do,
What vantage could it bring
To tear out the wires or my guts again
Within the span of an infomercial,
No longer than the line is.

Spare me.
Why does it go on and on,
But then again why not?
Who have you ever met who was ept?

In And Out

Oh, to hell with it. This snot just goes on and on. Some of it, anyway. Myself, I'm dragging. Suckered in. Puttered out. Another day goes by. What's your excuse?

Cowpies, Cowboys, and Cowbirds--Huh?

Cowlicks, too!
Tiptoe through the tulips with me!