Archive for the ‘narrative’ Category

Czech out the Opus of our Messiah!

December 4, 2018

Messiah has come.

The people who walk in darkness (we) have seen a great light! Can you feel it? Open up your soul to the flood of good tidings.

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JH3T6YwwU9s

Listen to the great news–yes, Virginia, there is, in the universe, eternal presence of Joy. Yes, Roy, there is, in this world, a way of overcoming our bad decisions, bad government, terrible events, terrorist evil, massive tragedy, constant temptation, stupid politics, polarizing idiocy, universal iniquity, and even my own and your  very own personal sin. If you’ve never done anything wrong, just pretend I never sent you this opportunity to repent. But if you find yourself anywhere near feeling the urgency of Messiah’s message of deliverance, give it a listen. Watch and listen.

Consider leaving behind  your stubbornness to not believe. Go ahead and  accept that there is a Good Creator of this world, a Corrector of our climate-changed, polluting life within it. Believe there is a Deliverer–Messiah, King of Glory, who has come into human activity  to show us the way out of our stupidity and iniquity.

Believe it! Accept it. He’s looking for you, wants to sign you up for the Kingdom of Heaven that in the end prevails over the kingdoms, the democracies, the caliphates, the governments, the autocracies, the oligarchies, the dictatorships, the corrupt regimes of this world.

Watch this musical testimony about our ultimate triumph over injustice and enmity.

Be attentive to the counsel of ancient shepherds who beheld in the heavens never-before-seen signs of our ultimate delivery from pain and death.

If you will only believe the good news!

Victory, as demonstrated by Messiah–victory over the worst of the worst human suffering: torture, crucifixion, even death! It has been done already, and will be done again, inside of you. Go for it!

As bad as things are now, it’s not over yet. It’s not over ’til that alto lady sings:

“He was despised, despised and rejected, rejected of men. . . a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.”

How many of us humans, through the history of mankind, have suffered the despisal of our fellow-humans? How many of us have endured rejection, how many have  been forced into immigrating from destructive human degeneracy, war, racism, holocaust, persecution, murder and mayhem ? How many have persevered through terrible sorrows. . . how many members of our human race have become “acquainted with grief” as Messiah himself was?

“Surely, surely he hath born our grief, and carried our sorrows!”

The savior of us all had to be a human acquainted with grief. We have no need for a jizya-wielding conqueror. What we require is a fellow-traveler–one who has been there, been here–in the world with us, and understands our plight.

“Emmanuel: God with us!”

‘We seek, we need, we long for–as the wise men of old–Messiah who overcomes suffering and death itself, and shows us the way out of our depravity.Hallelujah!

Can you comprehend it? Listen on. Listen to this musicated oration of our great message of hope for all men and women. . . the profound enactment of Handel’s Messiah, as only a bunch of passionate, young Czechs could perform it. Thank you, Vaclav Lucs and Collegium 1704 of Prague! Thanks for renewing our faith in the next generation of creators and musicians. They’re not all hung up on meaningless drivel and sensuous provocation.

   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JH3T6YwwU9s

Watch; Listen to the urgent message of the Ages:  the angelic experience given to shepherds who, in ages past, laid the nocturnal groundwork for Georg Friedrich Handel’s revelation of  Messianic visitation: divine intrusion into the sordid affairs of mankind!

Divine intervention in our world. The centerpiece event of human history, between Moses and Mohammed–one man’s triumph over unbelief–one man’s victory over torture and death!

If you will but believe it, ’tis yours to enter into: triumph over the injustice and tribulation of this life! and ultimate entrance into eternity!

MsTrumpet

The trumpet shall sound, and this corruption of ours made incorruptible for all time. Listen for the call in this symphony of saved life, and in your own seeking Spirit!

King of Soul

Advertisements

Czech out the New World!

November 20, 2018

Antonin Dvorak was born in the Czech region of Europe in 1841. His life path brought the gifted musician through a trailblazing role as a composer of bold, new symphonic music at the Prague Conservatory,

In 1892, Antonin chose, like many other adventurous Europeans of that age, to travel to  the land of wide open spaces and wide open opportunity—America.

Amerca2

Although his residence here was for only for a few years, that was enough time for the inspired Czech to catch hold of the American Dream; by skillful composition, he enunciated that dream in one of the most American-spirited pieces of music ever performed.

The symphony he composed here—his 9th—became known as the “New World.”

This transplanted Czech’s musical  gifting had propelled him to a podium of international renown, so the National Conservatory of Music of America recruited Dvorak as their Director. When Antonin left Europe in 1892, he was bound for the big apple— New York City, USA.

During that New World phase of his life’s journey, Antonin extended his westward adventure far beyond our Atlantic coast, into the very heartland of the frontier experience. In an Iowa community of transplanted Czechs, Antonin dwelt comfortably for a season with his countrymen.

That trip from New York out to our heartland and back must certainly have been a life-changing experience for the alert musician; the orchestral  piece he dreamed up— and then committed to musical score in New York in 1893— generates vivid images in my imagination. Whenever I listen to the New World Symphony, my mind fills up with excitement about the urgency and resourcefulness of our vast continent-wide expansion, which began in the farthest regions of an Old World and culminated in a New.

A recent New York Philharmonic performance of Dvorak’s New World Symphony, under the masterful hand of Alan Gilbert, presents a tender, and yet impetuous, rendering of the piece. An energetic portrayal of what Antonin had in mind when he composed his New World masterpiece.

AlanGilbert

Hearing this symphony summons adventures of travel in my imagination.

Embarking on a great adventure: this, it seems to me, is the theme of Dvorak’s  musical odyssey. In the early passages, I catch glimpses of a virtuoso voyage across the rolling Atlantic Ocean. . .

ShipSail

with the wind in my face and a sensation of sailing steadily toward some new venue of opportunities and bright horizons.

The bouncy flutes and piccolos set this course for my imagining.

Sailing onward through Dvorak’s audible vision, I hear a finely-honed orchestra moving melodically westward, inducing a sense of fair wind favorable terrain . . . past the Statue of Liberty, then disembarking in a bustling 19th-century New York port, negotiating the busy streets, through a dynamo of enterprising business and yankee industry, then rolling farther along, out of the city and into the countryside . . . moments of repose along the way . . . through coastal commerce past planted fields o’er dusty roads,  riding into green Appalachian hills,

Appalachian

over blue mountain ridges, catching a locomotive in Cincinnati, steaming past the fruited plains and barreling along across vast, wind-swept prairies:

The New World!

Along with the rhythmic locomotive journey through verdant landscapes, Dvorak’s bold, loud use of the trombones and trumpets provokes urgency, tension, danger at points along the way—then periodic resolvings through the ministry of exquisitely tender woodwinds—mellow oboes,

Oboe

resonant clarinets—and the declarative legato of French horns, backed up, sometimes boisterously, sometimes gently, with those ever-present violins and violas.

And low thumping bassos that stand as tall and deep as elms in the great American landscape.

These flights of fancy then deliver us into thankful moments of contemplation, yeah, even reverence for a Providential presence, accompanied by fluted tremelos, and blown deeper into the traveler’s soul by the vibrant contemplation of oboes, with resonant clarinets and mellowing horns. Excitement decrescendoes past repose, into full  contemplation, with the ultimate reward: wonder.

And by ’n by, sudden stirrings of urgency—yea, even danger and warning—from the bells of the trumpets and trombones, because that is the real world.

Always back to the real world. That’s the American way.

The real world of conclusion. A good thing can’t go on forever; it has to end at some point.

Oh, what a strong, bold brassy conclusion from our trombones and trumpets!

Brass

A great piece of Music!

But maybe you’d have to be there to catch my vision of it.

Or, maybe not. Next best thing:

   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HClX2s8A9IE

Glass Chimera

From Digging to Digitization

October 26, 2018

The history of mankind has consisted of humans pulling stuff out of the ground and reworking it to suit our own survival purposes.

As people became more and civilized, and organized, the underlying survival instinct took a back seat to other motivations—gathering surplus, tribal organizing, development of skills and trades, cooperation and competition. . . eventually industry,  government, education, business, recreation, sports, entertainment.

The progressive developments of all these human activities required something that was necessary and common to all of them:

Resources.

Stuff from the earth itself. Raw material. Basic stuff:

Water, dirt, plants, rocks, ores, animals, hides.

As civilization moved forward, these basics were refined by us— reconstructed, manufactured to fulfill the requirements of human development.

Locomotv copy

The list of basic stuff (above) was revised to include:

Drinks, processed foods, fertilizer, livestock, leather, pets, tools, machines, lumber, metals, trains, cars, planes, appliances, telephones, radios, televisions, computers.

Computers–aha! With these, human development embarked upon a new phase.

Information itself becomes as useful (or at least we think it is as useful. . .) as all the other stuff that we’re using to make the world a more convenient place since the beginnings. Knowledge itself has became a resource. Yeah, though I dare say it—a commodity.

So we notice that over the course of human progress we did move steadily from pulling stuff out of the ground, and reworking it so that we could improve our life, to—

Pulling information out of our data machines.

Like it or not, this is the outcome of human history. We have come to this. Now development is largely about retrieving and using data files to improve life or capitalize upon its developments.

In the same manner as we traditionally removed natural resources from the ground and turned it into our good stuff.

And bad stuff. Let’s not forget that part. Our progressive high-tech life now generates bad stuff. Pollutants, toxins, noxious substances and, of course, shit itself, which still happens every day on a very large scale.

A consequence of our globally massive improvement project is that more and more persons are being driven into knowledge jobs.

Instead of all that plowing, digging, mining, constructing that we did all through history—more and more of us are typing, cataloging, programming, sitting at desks and watching computers do our so-called  work for us. Such activity (relatively, it is inactivity) becomes the order of the day for us as far into the future as many of us can see.

This digitized transformation of human development will bring us to some huge changes. I read an article about it this morning:

  https://www.ips-journal.eu/regions/global/article/show/the-false-hero-called-digitalisation-3050/n

Seeing as how we now have entered the age of information retrieval slowly overtaking natural resources recovery. . . seeing as how we gaze collectively at what seems to be the setting sun of human physical toil, I offer a tribute to the noble enterprise of Human Labor.

RailEngn

This tribute I offer in the form of a song. Gordon Lightfoot wrote it years ago.

It is one of the best songs ever written about the glory of human labor. You may listen to the songwriter’s rendition here:

      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXzauTuRG78 

I also offer my own rendition of Gordon’s “Canadian Railroad Trilogy”, a song that I dearly love to sing.

    Gordon’s Railroad Trilogy

As you listen to both versions, imagine you are watching a sunset—the disappearing brightness of human labor accomplishment, being supplanted by a foggy dawn of. . . whatever is ahead for our collective endeavor.

King of Soul

Elemental shenanigans

August 20, 2018

At the Start, Hydrogen heaved ho.

Helium laughed. Lithium lay low while Beryllium became bemused.

But Boron bore the burden of all the work yet to be done.

Periodic Table

Then Carbon was conceived, and came forth in a manger wrapped in swaddling clothes, surrounded by angelic hosts of other elements, celebrated as the great center-point of history. He would go on to  bring myriads of other elements together in peace and productivity, but in latter days was criticized for attaching himself to everybody’s business.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, good ole Nitrogen nourished all the stuff that came later.

Oxygen got involved and opened a whole new way of life.

Fluorine flew flags of fluorescence for all to see.

Neon knew nothing but nonsense, but was neutral enough to practice non-intervention.

Sodium solved a lot of problems, and he’s all over the map with that

Magnesium managed to make itself useful.

Aluminum lightened everybody’s load.

Silicon solidified his/her position, early on in the sands of time, and then later went on to establish a ubiquitous presence in the science of small smart circuits.

Meanwhile Phosphorus flamed along, brightening the path for others.

Sulfur suffered through a lot.

Chlorine clung to just about everything, cleaning house along the way, but has been known to kill when too excited.

Argon atoms are gone until somebody proves their actual existence.

Potassium produces plenteously.

Calcium is known as a great  collector of a lot of stuff.

Scandium is scant. Titans use Titanium to tighten up their tridents.Vanadium is very strong, while Chromium captures all the attention. Manganese manages to make good use of itself.

Iron Age innovations initiated innumerable inventions.

Cobalt combines with others to combat corrosion.

Nickel has made itself a necessity.

Copper’s a good cop,  conducts a lot of traffic.

Amazing Zinc sets up rustless zones wherever it goes. Thank God.

And then there’s Gallium; it has the gall to call itself a metal, as if it were a major player along with iron and nickel and all those other big-time movers and shakers.

Germanium is a dope in silicon valley. Arsenic is also a real dope, but reputed to be a pathological killer when let out of his cell. He hides behind old lace.

Selenium periodically illuminates this end of the Table, while Bromine combines medicinally and then resigns.

Krypton is a rare super-phenom found only in old comics of the 1950’s.

Now here’s the line-up for the second Period:

Rubidium rules while Strontium drools— radioactivity, that is— 90 times a second, I think, and then renders all those other metalistic johnny-come-lately wannabees as metalla non grata.

 If we keep this mining expedition going long enough, we could  find  lucky ole  Silver hiding under the Table.

Along the way we’re bound to kick up that perennial  also-ran can—Tin— he comes to town and makes the rounds, but always  ends up  wasting away in a landfill, a real slacker if there ever was one.

And I mean, sure, there are some bright spots on the Periodic Table. There’s the star of the show, gold, hiding down there in the middle of the pack, and glinting in at a clandestine #79. Highly-prized all the time, but he’s oh-so-hard to find, unless you’ve got a really big credit line.

Every now and then you may catch sight of that tempereal Mercury, but its hard to pin him down.  He never stays in one place long enough to amount to anything. He’s got a really hot temper, but, I’m told, a cold personality.

Down there in the middle of the defensive line there’s the Lead heavyweight– not very fast, but good on the line– a good blocker for those fast Uranium backs.

 Uranium backs are the stars of the show, you know, forever racking up the big stats. But most of them are real hot shots, and if their temper gets worked up, you can’t get rid of ’em. The refs kick ’em out of the game, but they hang around for a long time like they own the place and make trouble for anybody who crosses their path. Don’t cross ’em. If they get really fired up they’ll go plutonium on ya and that’s all she wr

Glass Chimera

The Saga of the Stick

April 28, 2018

Herein is told the ongoing tale of them that do, doing unto them that get done unto.

Going back in time we find . . . Stuck in a perilous situation, homo sapiens grabbed a big stick and started swinging it.

His strategy worked sufficiently for subjugating wild animals and other scary intruders.

Scary

With frequent use, wielding of the stick became an habitual strategy for homo sapiens’ survival. Before long, he was expanding his use of the stick as a staff to herd sheep.

By herding sheep and scattering seed, sapiens man was able to survive on a higher level, and so he ascended to a certain  sovereignty over his surroundings.

By ’n by, by finding fire, he discovered he could roast and toast and scald food and in so doing consume stuff more satisfactorily. This utilization of incendiary power also supplied heat sufficient to smelt metals from ores and to cast tools from stones and then to strike utensils for use in shaping a new way of life and ultimately a society.

“Hunters and gatherers we will be,” said the shepherds in their new society.

“Shepherds and smelters we shall be,” said the scions in their new ascendency.

Such satisfactory progress afforded sapiens some time to ponder the universe he was espousing. Moving right along, sapiens man began scribbling squigglies on  stones, scratching symbols on papyrus, and certainly scrawling scripts on scrolls.

“Scholars and stargazers we shall be”, said the Scions in their ascending hierarchy.

“With swords and sceptres will we assert our sovereignty; with scythes and scripts we shall extend our authority.

Take ye these instruments,” said the sovereign to the scion.

“Distribute these scythes and sickles; supply these utensils to yon peasants to scatter and to sow  seeds in our fields.

Take these here symbols and scripts; scribe them upon the hearts of our people and in so doing implant our sovereignty over them. Establish our legendary sacrifices that such may become a sacrament unto them. Sow the seeds of our royalty, and thus harvest surplus with which we shall surely abolish the scourge of scarcity.

Clothe their servitude with civility. Sever their discontent with circuitous servility. With sword and scepter and script shall ye establish our ziggurats of slavery by which we shall  dissemble them in the latest greatest viral-spinning splendors of sensuous satisfaction.

Urge them to spin in circles of superfluity.

Like them and tweet them and retweet them and thus sheepify them, deleting  from them their former certainty and by ’n by  their very liberty.

Cast ye the rising symbols of our datified sovereignty over them.

From search engines squeeze forth pseudos of science, as the tube yieldeth toothpaste until it is rolled and trolled and empty as a zero hero. Quantify and datify and pacify these scruffy malcontents. Render them thereby castrati and technocrati and couchpotatoati.

Swing ye the sword of censorship upon their scribblous postings while they yet cannot detect our tampering with their turbulent protestations.

Tell them to Get thee to a neutereing nunnery— lest their spurting emissions prolong the cursed progeny of our climate changing catastrophe!

Eliminate their emissions!

Publicize their scandalous commissions!

Narcotify and opiafy and entertainify them until they’ve been sufficiently socialized to binge upon the fodder of fakenews foolishness until the cows come home while the social medias drone on and on.

Stick it to ‘em,” said the hierophant to the sycophant.

Herein was told the the ongoing tale of them that do, doing unto them that get done unto.

So . . . of which group are you?

Glass Chimera

Stickin’ to it.

February 18, 2018

In the late ’70’s many of us wandered up to a cool mountain town; we were trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Some had survived the excesses of countercultural lifestyle; others were just there to do the college thing.

  By that time, the ’60’s flower-power revolution that had failed to actuate had been appropriated into the Establishment. Now you could buy faux hippie threads from the JCPenney catalog; that reality was really a bummer, but people were buying the stuff anyway.. The free love thing had been commandeered by Hollywood. It seemed like everybody was “doing it.”

Our little group of wanderers and students found ourselves congregated in the mother-earth lap of an Appalachian river valley. We had gravitated here to, as John Denver had phrased it, “find Jesus on our own.”

“On our own” turned out to mean: apart from the institutional Church, because it was out of touch with what was happening in the real world and everybody knew it was full of foolishness and hypocrites. Haha.

As the gathering developed, however, our little charismatic experiment turned out to be a little more infected with the ways of the world than we had anticipated. Even though we were a bunch of young bucks and does banded together, raising our kids as a sheltered new testament tribe, showing all the local old-school religious folks what the kingdom of God was all about, eventually after about 20 years it flew apart and we all went our separate ways.

But the failure of men to do God’s will is not the conclusive evidence about the credibility of Him whose crucifixion was inflicted by that same failure, our human failure. Ultimately his resurrection overcomes the crucifixion. The message of Jesus is not about what men do or fail to do; It’s about what he did for us.

By the late ’90’s when our little congregation fell apart, our three offspring had gone off to University, where they got a different view of things, different from the churchified bubble they had been raised in. Long story short: it was good for them to be educated, and all three retained their faith.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, some of us maturing saints—shell-shocked survivors of the great postmodern charismatic reactionary push—began gathering in our homes to “on our own” collectively continue our covenantal search to discern the Lord’s will for us. So we were then, and still now, gathering in our living rooms to read the Bible, pray, and seek God.

As for me and my wife, we have walked a middle road between that house-church body of Christ and another church, which is  a more conventional arrangement for presenting and living out the gospel in society.

This has worked well for us.

By ’n by, all three of our offspring became world travelers for one reason or another. Over the years we have done a lot of globetrotting, following them to various fascinating destinations around the world.

Like for instance, Europe. When we went to that Old World, I began to understand that America is the new kid on the block. Over there, they’ve been doing this Christianity thing for a very long time, about 2000 years.

While it is plain to see that there is a huge institutional legacy of the “Church” in the Americas, the cathedrals of Europe can be seen as indicators of a very different religious experience in days gone by.  Every major city presents evidence of some stupendous religious megalith that dominated European society in a big way for a very long time, until the purveyors of human rationalism came along to challenge their authority.

This Church as a human institution, whatever it shoulda woulda coulda been spiritually, was for a very long time the big kid on the block, the elephant in the room, the megalith institution that dominated  Old World society and cultural In a BIG way.

Those 1st-millennium continental Catholics erected a bunch of huge, monumental edifices. You can find them in every major city and small town.  Europe displays an infrastructure of past religious hegemony on a massive scale. The Reformers later did more of the same.

Case in point. Last year, when we were in Prague, Czech Republic, I snapped this pic inside a cathedral:

PChrch

So I’m thinking. It’s plain to see, this Christianity thing is much, much larger than what is represented by, say, the quaint quasi-classical structure down on our Main Street USA. Beholding this magnificent structure presents a challenge in many ways: it’s a theological, cultural, architectural wonder!

Who built this thing? Was it erected through the blood and toil and sweat of impoverished medieval slave-serfs? Was it founded upon the heretical  manipulations of indulgence-selling ecclesiastical con-men? What kind of empire were they building here? A corrupted hierarchy of covetous clergy? Does it give glory to God, or to the works of Man?

Now I could speculate vainly about the motivations and corrupt practices of those who went before me as  constructors of what is purported to be the Kingdom of God. I could judge them as users and abusers who took advantage of clueless poor people who probably could barely afford to pay the light bill and keep gas in the cart and the kids in shoes while they were fretting about their deceased relatives in purgatory or limbo. I could conclude presumptuously that this humongous structure is nothing more than a work of vanity and hubris and systemic abuse that was erected by men who were surely just as guilty, just as culpable, just as sinful and suspect as myself. I could condemn them as robber-baron ecclesiastic manipulators who were no doubt serving  Babylon or Rome or the  Pride of Man.

But, sinner that I know myself to be, I shall not so judge them. Rather, I shall admire the building for being, in an imperfect world, what  it should have been, and is generally in retrospect considered to be: overpowering evidence of the human impulse that strives to glorify God.

Furthermore, I understand that my assessment is considered to be an obsolete way of thinking. I realize, from both my common observations and study of history, that the religious  hegemony of this huge institutionalized Church has been supplanted, governmentally and socially, by the humanistic, democratic and socialistic movements of  the 19th and 20th centuries.

And that’s okay. Shit happens and nobody’s perfect, not even the humanists, who havre proven through their own systemic abuses that human government and politics falls far short of true justice.

We Christians do need reminders that there are other people in this world who have different fixes than we do for rectifying human injustice and misery. We don’t have to agree with everybody, but we do have to, as Christ and his apostles commanded, live peacefully with everybody insofar as it its possible.

What I am seeing now, in the present predicament of our world is this:

That big guilty-as-charged Churchified juggernaut that sought to order human activity and governance in the last sixteen hundred years—it is being challenged and threatened by a newer Religious juggernaut from the east.

And if I must choose between the two, I’ll go with the one that I know to be true, even though it has not always been righteous. In the end, I think it is better to build upon the testimony of the one who died on a cross and was, three days later, resurrected. It is better to stand with Him than with another religious empire whose plan would be to get us kaffirs all on our knees five times a day.

In his final revelation to those he loves, Jesus counseled his friend John to “strengthen the things that remain.”

So therefore and henceforth, I say unto thee: I’m with Jesus.

The failure of men to do God’s will is not the conclusive evidence about the credibility of Him whose crucifixion was inflicted by that same failure, our human failure. Ultimately his resurrection overcomes the crucifixion. The message of Jesus is not about what men do or fail to do; It’s about what he did for us.

That’s my faith and I’m sticking to it.

King of Soul

Boomers’ Choice (reprise)

February 17, 2018

Is this world screwed up or what?

Tell me about it.

Nevertheless, there may be reason enough to find happiness,

contentment fulfillment and all that stuff

in the silver lining that highlights those dark clouds.

We baby boomers do have a choice, you know,

about whether to cry in our beer

or find cause enough to rejoice while

we’re here on planet earth.

Have a listen:

Boomers’ Choice:

Well, the boys came marching home from Germany and France

and the bomb had made a blast in in Hiroshima.

We were driving brand new cars; we were waving

stars and bars

and everywhere was another factory.

Back in 1953,

cruising with Dwight E.,

Elvis sang the whiteboy blues,

McCarthy looking under every bush.

In the home of the brave and the free

rolling on prosperity

and all the kids were going off to school.

57ChevF

Ten years down the road

another dream had come and gone

and the power of one gun had made itself known.

Back in 1964

big Lyndon opened the door

for civil rights and a bloody Asian war—

LBJ&McNa

young men on porkchop hill

young women on the pill.

At home they said don’t kill;

get a psychedelic thrill.

But the dreams of a woodstock nation

were just an imagination

when the boys came trudging home in ’73.

So it’s hey hey ho is there anybody home

and its hie hie hey, seeking light in the night of day:

the dreams of a woodstock nation

were just an imagination

when the boys came trudging home in ’73.

Well, it just don’t pay to sob;

guess I’ll get myself a job

selling leisure suits, maybe real estate.

I’m not moving very fast,

just waiting in line for gas

and Johnny Carson gives me all my news.

Back in 1976,

overcoming dirty tricks,

some were moving back to the sticks;

some were looking for a fix.

Ayatollahs on the rise

sulfur dioxide in the skies

and the system makes the man that’s got his own.

They say an elephant won’t forget;

let’s play another set.

There’s always another ghost on pac-man’s tail.

Don’t let this boom go stale.

Let’s find an airline for sale

or pop another tape in the VCR.

Back in 1989,

we’re living on borrowed time

getting lost in subtle sin

eating oat bran at the gym.

But there’s an empty place inside

and I was wondering why

these vanities don’t suit.

I’m going back to the gospel truth.

And it’s hey hey ho is there anybody home

and it’s hie hie hey, seeking light in the night of day;

There’s an empty place inside and I was wondering why.

These vanities don’t suit;

I’m going back to the gospel truth.

Put on your Sarejevo, Mogadishu, Kalishnikov and Columbine shoes,

for the way is treacherous with ruts and rocks.

Yeah, we figured out digits out

before that Y2K could spoil our rout,

but that 9/11 call was in the cards.

Did you consider the question of heaven

before the wreck of ’07?

EdselOld

Will you hear the trumpet call

from the Ancient of Days.

Our way is littered with freaks and fads

from Baghdad through our mouse pads

as the reaper swings his steely scythe

across our wicked ways.

And it’s hey hey ho is there anybody home?

And it’s hie hie hey, seeking light of day.

It’s a dangerous place outside

and I was wondering why.

This world don’t give a hoot;

I’m going back to the gospel truth.

  King of Soul

Is that over the Top?

February 17, 2017

So did you hear the one about the Over the Top President?

No. Don’t think so.

Guy walks into a starbucks . . .

StbxVw

and he says to the barista, “Why do they call the the Donald the ‘over the top’ Prez?”

So the barista says, Ya got me. Why do they call him that?

Cuz he’s over the top of everything!  Haha! You get it?

Uh, I’m not sure. . .

All the so-called chaos that’s going on–he’s right on top of it! You get it?

Uh. . . you mean he’s in charge of it?

Yeah, not to worry, he’s got it under control! It’s just gonna take a while for media people to come around to his take-charge leadership style– he’s actually got it all under his thumb. My cousin Molly says he’s just got a higher tolerance for chaos than most people do, and he feels that it’s, on some level, productive.

Well, that’s comforting.

Yeah! oh yeah. And my other cousin, Gregor, says the Prez may be living in his own world, but millions are right there with him, living right beside him.

Maybe so, Greg, but . . . he seems a little paranoid, like he takes everything personal, even belligerent at times. . . you think he’s stable?

Oh yeah. As a matter of fact, I think he owns a bunch of ’em. I think he’s got some high-quality stables somewhere out there in the hinterlands. . .

Like in flyover country?

Yeah, like I said, he’s over the top.

CloudDapl

Well that’s good to know.

Oh yeah, and he’s got some good people, right on top of the situation, like a good hound on point. You can relax and feel better about it.  So you feel better about him now?

I guess so, as long as all the so-called judges and the so-called reporters and all the other so-called Americans can get used to the way he does things.

Oh yeah. The Prez has got it covered. You can take that to the bank. I mean . . . look around, the stock market agrees, it’s all good, not to worry.

Oh yeah? Sounds like a bunch of bull to me.

No way. Relax. The Prez has got it covered.

Really? Got it covered?

Oh yeah, not to worry. Eventually he’ll get all the leaks stopped; he’ll get ’em covered, and  his people will be running our .gov along like a fine-tuned machine.

I thought machine politics went out with the Democrats.

It did. Well, yeah, their machine went out because we won the election. You realize, of course, we won the election? You did get the news, right? in spite of all the fake news. . .

Fuhgedabowdit.

. . . and the machine will be fine-tuned, like a fine-tuned machine is what he said. Why can’t the Dhemmis and the Media get that through their heads? They need to get with the program.

Excuse me, I just think we are in a struggle for the soul of our democracy here. At least, that’s what my cousin Elijah said.

No way, Hosay! Oh, here’s my Uncle Tom here. What do you think, Tom? Is that over the top?

I don’t know. Let’s ask Steve. Steve, is that over the top?

Oh, no. It’s not over the top at all . . . when you consider his behavior at the press conference, and . . . all the things that are not working, the things that are signs that the administration has not even found its footing yet in Washington. People should be very very concerned about what’s coming next and whether the administration will ever be able to actually govern, which we haven’t seen it do yet. I don’t think there’s anything that’s over the top in terms of what the response would be to this kind of signaling from the chief executive of the United States . . .it’s all really mind-boggling. . . none of us I think has ever seen anything like this . . .

Hey, hey, hey, Steve, relax, man! Take a chill pill. Like candy, man. The candy man can. This ain’t no ratpack; this ain’t no disco, ain’t no jive He’s right on top of it. Not to worry, man. You need to lighten up, man. What you need is a little humor to leaven this heavy-duty trip that the so-called Press is trying to put on you. Let me help you, man. Did you hear the one about the Over the Top Prez?

Uh, no. Don’t think so.

Guy walks into a starbucks and he says to the barista . . .

Glass half-Full

This is for the Birds

February 10, 2017

We placed this bird-feeder outside our kitchen window. We bought it from Lowe’s, where I work a few hours every week, since I’m an old guy now.

This bird-feeder has been a real hoot. There’s nothing in the world like watching birds, at close range, while they do their thing, whatever it is that birds are doing. I mean, it’s hard to figure out what they’re up to. Their ways are higher than ours.

Personally, I think they’re a higher life form than we are.

Although yesterday, I had to wonder about them because of some of the petty bickering they got into that later came to my attention.

ArguBrds

One of these birds was talking trash to the other, and so they got into a dispute about who was to have the corner spot on the White House. (We call it the White House).

The corner spot, like the corner office, is the hallowed position on the pecking order because it’s easier there to pluck the seeds and kernels from the White House trough.

I thought these two combatants were arguing about the corner spot. But later, I found out otherwise. Shortly after the altercation occurred, I was visited by my informant, who shall remain nameless, except that I shall heretofore refer to him/her as deep Beak, so you’ll know the aviant of whom I speak.

When deep Beak subsequently made his/her clandestine visit to me, I was, at that time yesterday afternoon, able to gather non-fake news (that is, the real scoop) about the real issue that provoked the confrontation you see photoshipped here. Deep Beak disclosed this information to me in a discreet manner to protect his/her own anonymity. As you can surmise here, deep Beak’s face cannot be seen. I insist on preserving the anonymity of my source.

TrapdBrd

My source revealed that the two birdbrains pictured earlier were not arguing about the corner spot at the White House. In sooth, they were having a political discussion.

The cold, hard truth about these litigants is: they were  arguing about Rule 19 of the US Senate. That’s the arcane legislative rule that enabled the Republicans to do their very subtle, though obviously potent, power play on the senator from Mass so that the said senator could not retrieve from history some information about Jeff Sessions who was up for nomination as Trump’s Attorney General.

Oh, and did I mention that deep Beak intimated to me that one of these combatants you see here is a Democrat and the other is Republican?

Pshaw! I’ll bet that explains a lot, huh!

It’s becoming more and more obvious to me that these birdbrains are too polarized to be thinking clearly. They are, forsooth, just playing politics. These two have been politicized beyond rationality; they are just winging it, making up stuff as they go along just for the sake of preserving their own tribal identity instead of their common heritage as endothermic vertebrate Avifauna.

Anyway, according to deep Beak, Jeff Sessions is a pretty good guy, although he has a checkered past, like all old Southern geezers, including this reporter, when it comes to his attitude and his professional history as a lawyer in Alabama as pertaining to the issue of Civil Rights, back in the day.

I’m talking about the dark days of segregation and Jim Crow before the South was born again unto the liberating effects of The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

It has been reported that Senator Sessions, the AG nominee, has changed his tune–has even changed his tweets since the Dark days. He has radically revised his attitude toward blacks and their civil rights since those dark days of Jim Crow southern discriminatory segregatory  laws that protected and prolonged the ancient scourge of racism and its deleterious effects.

Just ask Senator Tim Scott of South Carolina, if you have any questions about the nominee.

Let’s hope Sessions has changed his tune, anyway, since he is now Attorney General of these here United States, which I hope will remain United.

The last time the secession talk got so heated up was when those wild-eyed Democrats of South Carolina declared their independence at Fort Sumter.  But now its the Left Coast making the secession noise; we’re hoping to keep California in the fold since they make all our blockbustin’ movies out there, not to mention most of our fruits and nuts.

Blockbustin’  movies is OK, but Union bustin’ is not.

All you citizens of the good ole USA out there, keep an eye on your Senators and Representatives. Don’t let  them screw this thing up. We can’t allow this good thing we got going to fall apart. We must not permit this US thing to fall apart over petty politics. Keep the birdbrains accountable.

And let’s hope they confirm Judge Gorsuch.

And you should get a bird-feeder from Lowe’s. Get a high on a bird today!

Glass half-Full

In Capitolettes’ Orchard

September 14, 2016

ReaderStatu

A scene from from the new play, now being composed,  Barromeo and JulioCare,

from Act II. Scene II.

The scene: before dawn, in Capitolettes’ orchard

Enter  Barromeo.

Barromeo. But whattheheck? what entitlement through yonder Congress breaks?

It is the east, and JulioCare is the sun!

Arise fair sun, and burn off the fatted corporates,

who are already plump with capitalism’s excess.

Oh, How shall I fund thee, JulioCare?

Let me count the ways.

One, two, three, what are we pushin’ for?

Ask me again and I’ll tell you the same–

next phase gottta be an affordable game.

But hey! what Act through yonder Congress creeps,

shepherded by my Dhemmi peeps

It is my plan; O! it is my .gov!

Ob! that (s)he knew he/she were.

She/he speaks, yet spouts legal-speak, what of that?

Her/his eye discourses; I will pander to it.

See how he/she leans his/her cheek upon her/his hand;

oh that I were an MJ glove upon that hand,

that I might touch them little cheeks.

JulioCare (on hill portico above): Pshaw! woe is me.

Barromeo (aside): (S)he speaks: O! speak again bright angels in America,

for thou art as amorphous to this night

as some winged messenger of left-equality

unto the white-winged Right.

JulioCare: O Barromeo, Barromeo, wherefore art thou Barromeo?

Deny thy privilege, and ante up their game;

Or, if thou wilt not, be butt torn my love,

and I’ll no longer be a Capitolette.

Barromeo: (aside) Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

JulioCare: ‘ Tis but thy game that is my enemy;

thou art, thyself, not a politician bought-and-sold-for.

What’s a politician? it is not Dhemmi, nor Prublican,

nor ding, nor dong, nor any other part

belonging to a man. Ob! be ye some other name:

What’s in a frickin’ name anyway? that which we call a rose

by any other name would smell as sweet;

So Barromeo would, were he not El Prezzo called,

retain that dear election by which he shows

his coolness.

Barromeo: Listen up, girl! By a name,

I know not how to tell thee who I am, except

I am, you know, El Prezzidente, and tell your

Capitolette Prublican patriarchs don’t you forget it!

JulioCare: My funds have not yet drunk! a thousand pages of thy remedy,

yet I’ll tell my maid Nancy to have them read the damn thing

after it is passed by yonder congressional hacks

so its passage will be sure before yonder sun arises

to cast dread light upon our desperate plan

for the candyman can the candy man can.

At least that’s what Uncle Sammy said back in the day.

Barromeo: Hey, fair maideno, we got it covered. Not to worry. We can slide it past your Prublicans duds quicker than you can say Taxonomy, according to Chief Justy Roberto. You just go back in there and get some rest

and I’ll take care of the rest, cuz I’m the best

thing since sliced bread

to come outa Chicago since Dick Daley was the head. . .

JulioCare:  Wait! (looking down at her cell) Pshaw! Pshit! My maid just texted–she said beware the ides of March and the

Big Banquos and the

Risk Corridors and whatever obfuscations my esteemed Prublicans bury in there before the whole damned spot gets out of the House of the Capitolettes.

Barromeo: Not to worry, babe. By yonder bleepin’ moon I swear–

JulioCare: Oh! swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, which is, bi- and by, darkened by its dark side and–pshaw! pshit!–there’s the lark, the herald of the morn, with harsh chirps and unpleasant sharps–’tis no nightingale that now soothes the forest of this night. Bi hence, be gone away! before reconciliation faileth to befuffuddle my forebears.

Barromeo:  But hey, babe, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

JulioCare: What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?

Barromeo: the exchange of, um, thy love’s faithful vow for mine.

JulioCare:  That’s a great idea; tell ’em to go the Exchange. No big deal.

Barromeo: You got it, babe, but hey, parting is such sweet sorrow, ’till we meet again. . .

JulioCare: Oh, ’tis twenty years ’til then!

Barromeo: Whoa, whoa, don’t get bent out of shape. We needeth not such hyperbole.

JulioCare: Oh! when will we meet again! ’til then will I be but  shapeshifting and forlorn.

Borromeo:  In your dreams, baby; in your dreams. ‘Til then, this thing will come together when Prublican wood doth move against Dhemmo games.

Maid (from within): JulioCare, get yo’ assets back in here before the light of day changes everything!

JulioCare: Oh! pshaw! pshit! gotta go, Barromeo, but ’til we meet again in better circumstances . . .       ; -)

Borromeo: Farewell, fair maideno, until we meet again! stay thee away from the risk corridors, lest they fall upon thee with unbearable rate-hikes. ‘Tis a dangerous game. So fair and foul a game I have not seen, nor have most other folks. Hey, What’s in the game, anyway? a dollar by any other  special drawing rights– ’tis nuttin’ butt a tweet. I’ll see ya when I see ya. I’ll see your beloved currency and raise you an SDR. Fare thee well; my love for thee runs as deep as the Fed.

Exit Barromeo.

Glass Chimera