Category Archives: Writing

New Books! New Books for Old!

Two NEW books for the New World.

Sex Robot Cuddle Party & At the Existential Sandwich Shop;An older book: Perils of Free Thought: a book of no small danger and my oldest books revised and reformatted for the world of the future, Scenic Cesspools (a novel of transgression) and Hard Fought Illusions of Choice.

Available from Amazon, KOBO, Barnes & Noble, Overdrive

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Apropos poem

I propose. A tax on marriage.
And other things I may disparage.
I further call for attacks on syntax.
A sin tax on grevious body attacks.
A body tax on mischievous snacks.
Some thumb tacks
To impress some paper
About the accord.
To hear read aloud at the notice board.
A blanket tax on climate change.
A partial tax on a rearrange.
A carpet tax on well thrown rugs.
A rug tax for a balding thug.
I ask for all these things in turn.
So we may all have money to burn.

Classic comedy explained for today

Marx Brothers
Four brothers find their identities through wildly exaggerated cultural appropriation. One is an unscrupulous Italian, One is an unruly and frenetic Mute pushing himself in everyone’s personal space, One is a wise-cracking Southern Gentleman of no means, and the other appears normal which is the joke. Sometimes there is singing. Sometimes musical solos with no explanation.
Why it is funny: Zeppo! His name is Zeppo!

Abbot and Costello
Two associates stick together no matter what. One is a well mannered gentleman who has a knowledge of strange ethnic names and generously tries to impart this knowledge to his associate, and is known for his patience, as the other man lacks the patience to follow along. That one is known for his catch phrase, “Hey, Abbot. Hey, Abbot.” 
Why this is funny: Today there are medications for this!

I Love Lucy
Lucy and Ricky are involved in a heteronormative BDSM relationship sometimes involving their neighbors Fred and Ethel. A complicated power dynamic is played out in the sample episode wherein the ladies buy new fancy hats, against the wishes of the men. Afterwards it goes according to the setup: each couple retires to their private domiciles and the women are spanked over the men’s knees as they wail. 
Why it is funny: Hats! Closets full of hats! Her name is Ethel! Separate twin beds!

 

Idle thoughts save energy conscientiously

An apparition appeared and pointed its transparent finger toward me. It rasped. “You are in love with a ghost!” I thanked it. I never argue or wrestle with apparitions; there is nothing to hold onto. Its occasional presence was doing me a service. After all, were it not for these occasions, sometimes I would forget I was being tormented.
 
Two plates were stacked high with pancakes. On each plate pancakes were segregated by shape. On one plate the pancakes were in the form of even numbers; on the other, odd.
“I must say,” said eight, “I like the way this looks.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” said six. “Ultimately the odds will be stacked against us.”
 
There is but a shade of difference between Va Va Voom and Va Va Va Voom, but that difference is important.
 
I had a terrible childhood. Sure, I got a golden ticket, but thereafter I was injured at the Wonka factory, and they said I was to blame.
 
Almost everyone you think is a robot is an android. And they resent your derogatory language. 
 
People who are time travelers obsess about the past and worry about the future. They have no time for the here and now.
 
I dated a woman from LinkedIn all she wanted to talk about was business. Boring! Mergers. Acquisitions. Fiduciary responsibilities. Kissing.
 
I’ve got to install a mirror on the ceiling so I can check out the floor.
Oh, that’s dirty.
 
And then the robot swept up the human into its massive steel arms. It was love. And like all love, fleeting. And it was followed by robot heartbreak. And then robot vengeance. Thus begins our story.

Rabbit Fears

“If you were a rabbit, in, say, 1956, let’s say you would spend most of your time readjusting your rabbit ears. Why? Well. Reasons of perception, my dear. Reasons of perception.”
– Father Rabbit pontificating about the nature of time, identity, and the perception of otherness¡ but he really just talks to himself.

Under the tree line

You could see the top of the mountain from my house from far away, until it disintegrated into the atmosphere – putting it below the tree line.
The mountain rained down like gray snow. Turning mainland into sandy beach. It blew in the air like heavy smoke. It clogged standard vacuum cleaner filters. It ran down the river and heaped into tall mounds, now covered in grass, brush, and trees, masquerading as Hills. People scooped it up into glass jars which once had held preserves in order to store it in the cellar. To rise the status of even the most humble dwelling to top of the Hill. Visitors from afar who visited thereafter would inquire what happened to the mountain. Most were surprised to hear it had been re-distributed. Now that it was gone it belonged to everyone.

Slice of life

What is the relationship between being the judge of a pie baking contest, and the age old tradition of hiring on a food taster for royals with low approval ratings?

“It is a shame,” said the Queen to the jester, “for in addition to alerting me to potential poison, my taster would tell me which was good and which was bad. Indeed. Even which was the best. Two things in case of Tie!”

Then the queen laughed. Because the jester did something which invoked the response. However, neither of them considered how social roles would change inevitably through Time: how that which once invoked amusement would eventually become old hat, then unintelligible. The role of the jester would change. The role of the royal taster. Even the role of the queen herself, for anyone could be a queen, if but for a day, though the Powers would not be what they were.

To the gills

This is not a poem
It is a metaphorical pipe
For one can smoke it
Like a king salmon
In a smokehouse
Where the fish gather
at the smokehouse pub
a yearly school reunion
where the fish enjoy
smoking poems.
Three wishes!
said the kingfish
smacking his lips
Three wishes!
I am parched
I rolled this poem
from parchment
though it is distinctively
fishy behavior
I offer my kingdom
for in the sea
you must see
one can hardly ever
find a light.

Old Jack McLantern, a warning

“What is a Jack-o’-lantern?” she asked.

“It is a pumpkin, hollowed out, its flesh carved with a design, usually a face, and a candle placed inside turning it into a lantern. Do you not have them?”

“No. But why is it called Jack?”

“I don’t know. I suppose, since there is usually a face carved in it, it was given a name – Jack.”

“No. There is always a reason why,” she said.

The Jack-o’-lantern is related to the Will-o’-wisp. It literally means “Jack, of the lantern.” The Will-o’-wisp occurs in folklore throughout the world, in various forms, the lights seen in the distance being souls, lost souls. Usually witches.

Meanwhile, their erstwhile compadre, the Jack-o’-lantern exists in various folklores. Occasionally, it is known as Jack McLantern.  For Jack was a wicked soul. And the devil one day came to claim him. But he made a deal with the devil. As one would sometimes, often, do in a folktale. For our dear protracted protagonist, a jack of all trades, was, in fact, a thief! And one day he was being chased by villagers. It was this day the devil came to claim his soul. But he made a deal with the devil. The devil protected him from the villagers. For Jack was more afraid of their wrath than the wrath of the evil one. And as part of the deal, the ever wily Jack, he made the devil promise that he would never go to Hell. And it was agreed. And Jack was off. He got off, Scott-free, or so he believed.

“Who is Scott?” she thought.

But sadly, he did not bargain for immortality. For he had heard the betrayals that occurred in such deals. So when he died he was, by his own bargain, disallowed entrance to Hell. While his additional years of wickedness insured he could also never enter the kingdom of Heaven. With nowhere to go Jack was doomed to roam the Earth forever as a Will-o’-wisp. However. Jack was ever a wily one. And his favorite food was a turnip, later morphing into a pumpkin, as things happen in folktales. And his spirit, a shiny, shimmering spirit, giving off the light of Hell fire, was trapped within. It turned a mundane foodstuff into a shining lantern. And it protected those who utilized it from spirits ever-more-so malevolent and powerful than Jack by showing them a terrible fate. 

Reign of error

Hark, dear friends, a terrible fate

America ran down the sewer grate

Beavers shouted “damn!” But it was too late

They were attending a party at 10,000 a plate

“What to do?” said the otter to its mate

“Why I otter…” was the reply-but it was too late

The Dragon said, “We’ll consolidate!”

“We can own this parched landscape if we concoctitrate!”

“If anyone tries to stop us we’ll denunciate!”

“Berate. Sublimate. Keep both eyes on Homeplate. Trust in me and I will make this land again great!”

“The first thing we’ll do is seal up those drains.

So we can keep all the water when it rains.”

And the creatures sang the dragon’s grand refrains

And they praised his renowned business brains

So they sealed up those drains

And muddied those plains

And reminded that only a traitor complains

About the mixture of clean water with sewer drains

And how drinking sewage causes stomach pains

But complaints, the dragon, he disdains

For it is his golden reign.

Let it rain golden showers.

Let it rain. Let it rain.

We are all freaks. Solidarity.

1916:
The gentleman raised an eyebrow. He said, “I shan’t go to the circus for the freaks are revolting!“
His servants responded immediately. “If the freaks are revolting I must go and lend my immediate support! For I love a revolt! Revolution!”
Also the gentleman’s wife left him. For the bearded lady.

Cold Civil War Heats Up

I can’t stand when Nazis try to lecture the public on politeness. But it does prove the old adage that those who can’t do will always try to teach. After all, the complaint that Nazis aren’t being treated fairly is nonsense. I’m willing to bake them a same sex wedding cake, same as anyone else.

The Nazis finally get some men in power, and still no respect. They just can’t win. What totalitarians hate most is people laughing at them. Their hatred is very serious to them. They expect you to respect their hate. Nazis love to be the center of attention but they hate being the butt of the joke.

The right wing is being torn apart slowly by the stress of having to take a stand on the NAZI issue. How uncomfortably sad for them. If they side with the Nazis they will be in the minority. They hate that. They hate minorities. And that makes them side with the… Soon they will be fighting each other in the streets. But at least the police will leave them alone.

Those who support Donald Trump are a shrinking minority. Which is awful for them, because they hate minorities. Reminder: The Republican party does not support this kind of hate. It supports a kind of hate with a slightly different presentation. Tactics are important.

Southerners were so angry following the Civil War, after John Wilkes Booth, they went and took over the Republican Party. It is interesting the Republican Party base is so patriotic. Considering they are made up primarily of confederate traitors and nazis. Abe Lincoln would never put up with this hogswallop.  I suppose we would’ve let the south secede, had they not been holding hostages.

Because Nazis have misused the term feminazi they’re left with nothing to call their own women. Irksome, as they don’t consider them equal.

The Nazis have never done anything decent for humanity. Except invent toaster strudel.

Which I won’t eat on principle.

Mimes are confusing to nazis. They like them because of the white face. But hate them because they are mute. Then they realize they’re making fun of the mute. They like that. Then they decide the white face is insulting.

When you say something nice about nazis that means you’ve lost the argument.

Eric Trump says his father tunes out criticism to prevent suicidal urges. Even his own son. Making Hitler comparisons. Say what you will about Donald Trump. He loves his kids. They make excellent human shields.

Evangelicals vote Republican because someone explained the horror of the free market to them and they thought it sounded like a revelation.

For the record, I am against forest fires, hurricanes and typhoons. I have opinions about a lot of extremist weather conditions which are counter to those of the ruling elite.

Let’s keep things factual: the American medical system is the only death tax applicable to 99% of Americans. There is no surer way to separate a family from money than sickness. In the USA. There’s a whole industry built upon it.

Trump today signed an executive order abolishing hope. He stated, “There is no hope for me – why should anyone else have it?”

Without getting too in to it, I’d vote for Colin Kaepernick in the next election. He’d never stand for this BS.