“Twisted Daffy-Nation-Nition”

(March 5, 2018)

 

Constitutional

Convention: Two “Cons” in search

of The Perfect!*

 

  • (Read the word in the second line in quotes: “Cons.”  The danger is no bridle – or bit – on a Convention of The States convening to add, detract, rewrite, The Constitution of The United States of America.  Better to battle for adherence to the original – as amended  (or amend further) than to open up The Floor to a foodfight with the media supplying extra-hard tomatoes and exploding grapefruits.  If you amend The Constitution to allow for “line item” amendments to the articles what is to stop the next guy when it’s his turn? And then you end up with The Louisiana Constitution.  Go read that’un sometime.)

“Forget Not ‘The Tossed’!”

(March 3, 2018)

 

Do others sit and

scrit ‘stead of fixing broke lunch?

Salads: spuds, tuna!*

 

  • (Couldn’t fit in cole slaw in this piece, but had time for a quick hand job of thin-chopping with one of my handy-dandy Swill Army Victronox 8-inch Chefs’ knives, mince some parsley, bell pepper and onion – both green and red – and grate a carrot: one cup mayo, tsp celery seed, quarter cup of distilled white vinegar and a couple tablespoons of granulated sugar to add to the salted and wilting and draining cabbage in a colander over the sink.  I went back the next morning and added some finely minced bronze and Florence fennels to the mix. Did the same – with more parsley – to both potato and tunafish salads.)

“Working With Compost”

(March 3, 2018)

 

escaped shampooed hair

flouts past my grimy fingers,

today: the rest of me!*

 

  • (Just sweated through a morning of watering and weeding and tending the compost bins and felt grimy hair: solution – leave the hose stoppered but on full for fifteen minutes – and have a quick beer, grab the hair-stuff and slip into swim trunks, snatch a towel off its pile (yes, folded and interred in a cabinet! I am only a savage twenty-six hours a day!!) and go to the back 40 of the garden, behind the blue-tip palmetto shrub that threatens to eat Kansas if it ever gets outta here, wet down: damn! that’s scalding!  Next time, mountain man make it ten minutes, okay? lather up and rinse.  Ahha. New man. From the neck up.  Smell shirt before re-don. Yup. Tomorrow.)

“My Former Colleagues”

my former colleagues

smeared a boyfriend first in rush

to Us-Tube story!*

 

  • (The San Bruno – gosh I hated to hear that dateline! – shooter at You Tube brought out the full-pant of the dogs of media feeding in a frenzy here in Central Florida, first telling us it was A Boyfriend Thing” which lasted almost past midnight when saner heads and surer manners returned to say: “nay, nay,” ’twas more like a rejection letter hand-delivered to Mountain View by a San Diegan daughter distraught here viedos were not popular enough to monetize to her desire.  Is The Media that unprofound to first fling what will shock the most – or in other cases satisfy the preconceptions of other reporters, editors and convinced consumers of The Accepted Cant that any charge – remember it must be salacious or at least involve urine – must lead the lead.  So glad I quit those many many moons ago – and apologized soon thereafter for being a journalist who learned his lesson early: ask each source how they wanted their names spelled – just to get one thing right, anyway! Thanks, Satie!)