"My Resident Cardinal"

(February 4, 2020)

resident Cardinal *

gent drops by just-filled bird bath

for a quick sip – no tip!

*(In splendiferous scarlet robes he cocked a head and eyed my reading form but five feet away and wondered why – possibly, so to anthropomorphize – why I left two small and three large leaves in the newly filled bar and shower. When you run a free filling station and bath-house you must expect such criticisms, meant, I am sure, in the best sense of a loyal patronage. Wonder where his “old lady” was, though.)


(February 4, 2020)


not a city in Ukraine

“Black Ledger”* bogus

*(If you’re curious: go look up John Sullivan at JSullivanReports on twitter, among other investigative reporting sites on the web. He and Sara Carter among other actual investigative reporters long-before Congress got twitchy between the shoulderblades was reporting on evilment and wrong-doings by allegedly immune-to-partisanship state-sponsored investigative agencies. The fabricated and falsified “Dossier” used to find cause for FISA-court spying on President Trump’s team – Foreign Intelligence Service Agencies secret courts in the U.S. – did more than just look into prostitutes peeing on mattresses in Moscow hotels. Besides, which, some of my correspondents maintain a body must be under the flow to make a “Golden Shower,” but I am sure none in our vaunted intelligence agencies would know that…)

"That Certain Feel-Good Time"

(February 4, 2020)

bigness of being:

I remember when I walked

eight feet high – ‘fore drugs!

*(Some mornings – most often but a few afternoons at Seminole High my junior and senior years – I got the physical impression I was looking out at the world from a much taller perspective than my admittedly 5′ 9″(-) stature. The world did not shrink: I swelled. It was, well, swell. Very infrequently the physical – and perhaps psychic – sensation would come and go well into my middle early years, 20s, 30s and even 40s. Now I contemplate carrying a step ladder, though some might suggest a front-end loader’s three-cubic-yard “bucket” just to get me out of my hole. Sure did like that feeling of nearness to greatness. The later infatuations with drugs never did come close to matching those feelings. And, alcohol, like many other such substances sold as “a high” are just depressants in laughter-drag. No, I will not go all “down-with-drugs” on you, but I will offer up this: WAIT until your own natural high quits coming to visit in those earlier young adult years before making a commitment to Let Better Living Through Chemistry have its chance.)

"Gene Burns – Orlando's First Radio Talker"

(February 4, 2020)

mom used to listen

to Gene Burns on radio*

she ever hear Rush

*(Local then-non sports radio WDBO – Daytona Beach-Orlando stood for call-letters – featured in the 1960s or perhaps a mite earlier a man later heard in Philadelphia, Gene Burns. He was labelled middle-of-the-road or even liberal back then. No one had a clue who this possible then-chain smoker Rush Limbaugh was, though my younger brother used to watch his television show and say it was just “entertainment,” but if you worked in county government in those final days of the seventh decade of last century you had pretty much best be seen voting Republican. The more things change…huh?

News that Limbaugh was set to begin advanced lung cancer treatment pretty much stunned his right-leaning listening audience. And, then, there he was in the gallery at President Donald J. Trump’s third-ever State of The Union Address at which time it was confirmed he was to receive The Presidential Medal of Freedom from The President. Well, that was not quite accurate according to the radio – my first such address listened to stem-to-stern and it was pure theatrical and political and perhaps more importantly American Gold: The First Lady draped The Medal over Limbaugh’s head right then. What theater!

I include Rush and his family and wife right along with my brothers in my rambling conversations with my Deity and ask His blessings and comfort on the many of which I know could use the work.

I must include, though, Rush’s listeners – and, yes, his detractors too! – in any future prayers for God’s Grace and Peace.

Mom would have agreed, I am sure.)

"This Begins Our Squall Season!"

(February 4, 2020)

chock-full week ahead

doesn’t count ‘t-do* gust-front

or college cage game!

*(A Thursday night or early Friday Morning possible Squall Line-led strong cold front to come calling through a six-county area of Central Florida, though latest weather radio warnings are trying to butter both sides of the bread already headed linoleum-ward, which will spoil a wonderful week of Sprung Clean-uping and sitting by the potted veg and ghost peppers and their cousins, turning the Kales and Parsleys to render full homage to the sun whilst promising myself due course with collecting the stacks just read to make room for new stacks and make room for the bicycle and its wall-hanger (shouldn’t that be a Harvey Wall-Hanger…reminds, must hunt down the yellow stuff to splash over the OJ-infused hootch: it’s hiding in a back bedroom I fear). Must make a note to name bike Harvey, no? Gives me new muscle-aches, which belies the belief that just walking does The Core good…what is good when the outer leaves are left to wither? Whether thigh goest…neh?)