Saturday, December 29, 2007

timerick

        ODE TO IDLENESS

 

When I was young, ambitious and stupid

I could barely clothe myself

As well as Cupid.

Now I'm older, lazy and stupider

But if I want I can dress up

Like Jupiter.

And the sweat of my brow

Dried up long long ago

When I learned to unwind

And take everything slow.

My hands always idle –

The Devil's mayhap.

But when he comes calling

I'm taking a nap.

Yes, labor and I parted ways

When I noticed

How happier folks were

When they are lotused.

A cup of hot chocolate

And newspaper spread

Will last me all day

As I wallow in bed.

We all would do well

To inspect the staid sloth

Who moves very little

And never is croth.

Those who are busy

Who travel

Who work

Have never discovered

The joy of a lurk.

A lurk where you sit back

And watch others toil

To pay off their taxes

Or impress a goil.

A lurk is a lark is

The luck of the draw.

So if you're a camel

Who's reached the last straw

I invite you to green fields

Where you can relax

And watch the poor ant

Working off its thorax.

Laze and the world lazes with you.

Work and you work alone.

Your demanding boss

Will not share the moss –

Remember that old rolling stone!



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Friday, December 28, 2007

timerick

Keep Moving! (or, an old-fashioned inspirational poem for the New Year; the kind they don't write anymore.)
 
When investments all go south
and the dentist owns your mouth.
Keep moving!
 
When your car keys disappear
and Shemp Howard's in your mirror.
Keep moving!
 
When Fred Thompson looks okay
and your in-laws come to stay.
Keep moving!
 
When your mortgage grows immense
forcing you to live in tents.
Keep moving!
 
When the writer's strike is o'er
yet TV is still a bore.
Keep moving!
 
When your car gives up the ghost
and your credit rating's toast.
Keep moving!
 
When your aching brittle bone
is shot full of cortisone.
Keep moving!
 
When you're downsized to a man --
all the work in Pakistan.
Keep moving!
 
When the winter slush spreads deep
and Dick Cheney still is veep.
Keep moving!
 
When the stomach flu descends
and you have to wear Depends.
Keep moving!
 
When you find your spouse untrue
shacked up with a kangaroo.
Keep moving!
 
When ideals seem made of cloth
cut to cover greed and sloth.
Keep moving!
 
When and where and why and where
your life isn't sane or fair.
Keep moving!
 
Never stay that restless urge;
it is just as good as courage.
Keep moving!
 
Moving on makes problems flee --
or at least keeps yours from me . . .
KEEP MOVING!


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Thursday, December 27, 2007

timerick rants on the Religious Right

NOTE:  an old, old friend of mine asked me to be on his radio talk show by phone in Albuquerque, New Mexico, yesterday.  He said he wanted to talk about the "Mormon life-style" after a visit to that city by Mitt Romeny.   I should have known better; he runs a chiristian radio station, and they all are up in arms over some kind of rumour that "Mormons believe the Devil is brother to the Saviour".  I've never heard this rigmarole before, have you?  But apparently it is a big deal w/the Huckabee campaign (even though he has officiallly denied it)  I yammered like an idiot when asked about it.  But I have my revenge: Huckabee is now a verb!
 
 
The Christian Right is raising Cain
and take the name of God in vain.
by claiming favored status when
it damns to hell the race of men
for blasphemy and other sins
but doesn't really care two pins
to listen to a point of view
that from their own might be askew.
Yet televangical misdeeds
are much more numerous than weeds
and mega-churches pocket sums
that make Wells Fargo look like bums
while crying up a Saviour that
had little more than sleeping mat.
Oh bigots of the pious right
with stoppered ears and blindered sight
How shall the truth make you be freed
as long as you are Huckabeed?


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Wednesday, December 26, 2007

The Pleasures of Ex . . .

To
Excavators we owe
thanks
for never filling in the
blanks.
 
Our
Excuses shield us
from
hearing snare of moral
drum.
 
When
Excess is
undetected
Democrats are soon
elected.
 
Some
Excursions can be
took
in a chair and with a
book.
 
All
Exegesis wise saints should
shun;
it's made the world with blood to
run.
 
Try
Excercise if you are
fat
or cellulite if you are
flat.
 
Take
Exhaust away from
cars
and suicides will fill the
bars.
 
With
Exogamy I do
concur;
I hate a wife who's always
sure.
 
What
Existentialism hasn't
done
is make philosophy good
fun.
 
If
Exostosis you've never
read
just think of Hillary Clinton's
head.
 
Now
Expat isn't considered
proper;
most just need to avoid a
copper.
 
An
Explosion often
comes
from home cooking without
Tums.
 
Darn
Expletives always
stalk
conversation and small
talk.
 
Get
Ex Lax if you are
glum;
your seat of reason will go
numb.
 
Praise
Exreta to the
skies;
how else could we have cow
pies?
 
Called
Extortion of a
sort --
otherwise known as child
support.
 
Huge
Extravaganza
sale
means the market has gone
stale.
 
Pure
Extrovert is someone
who
makes an atheist rent a
pew.
 
The
Expert knows much more than
me;
except when I write
poetry.
 


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Friday, December 21, 2007

timerick

It think it is right to inquire
if Cheney's blaze was too dire.
I've said all along
the guy is all wrong --
where there is smoke there is fire.
 


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Thursday, December 20, 2007

timerick

I think we have reached overkill
with Lynne Spears on parenting skill.
One daughter's a drunk
the other's a punk
who didn't stay long on the pill.
 
 


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Wednesday, December 19, 2007

timerick

In Denver the voting machines
are not worth a small hill of beans.
It can't be denied
they're decertified
with video games on their screens.
 


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Tuesday, December 18, 2007

timerick

All thugs in New Jersey beware;
the Death Sentence now is not there.
Life in New Jersey?
That isn't mercy!
I'd rather they gave me the chair.
 


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Monday, December 17, 2007

timerick

Adjustable mortgage rates, froze,
will cause banker's clip joints to close.
They'll have to look out
for others to tout
besides those who can't count their toes.
 


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Friday, December 14, 2007

timerick

ALEXANDER POPE MEETS MARK TWAIN
 
Dictators may come and go
while tyrants wax and wane.
But error never loses hope
of more converts to gain.
 
Congresses and parliaments
can boast all that they want
but money sends them scurrying
to error's gilded haunt.
 
Honesty is only found
in private acts of grace
which confound every party of
the whole damn human race.
 
**************************************************
TAKE ME OUT OF THE BALL GAME
 
Though their union tried to fight,
Knoblauch, Clemens, Rondell White
finally were brought up short
in the Mitchell drug report.
 
Anabolic steroids stream
through them like a druggist's dream.
Bud Selig will sure insist
on a brutal slap on wrist.
 
 


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Monday, December 10, 2007

timerick

Oh Lord we thank thee for this pork
that comes from Austin way.
We pray that it will nourish us
and that no toxins stay.
Please bless the workers at the plant
we pray their knives don't miss
and that their health plans cover them
for some paralysis.
We hope that those who do not have
a pork plant of their own
can find another way to spread
disease that is home-grown.
 
*********************************
 
No more milk and cookies
when Santa comes to town.
As a kid's role model
he's making parents frown.
Rolly polly belly
and all that double chin
now must be deflated
like an Olson twin.
This has grown too stupid;
might next we ask ourselves:
Do we need to get some
growth hormone for the elves?
 


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timerick

From the CEO
to all those below;
I just want to say
Happy Holiday
and to let you know
every job is snow
when the bottom line
(every job but mine)
crashes through the floor.
I am keeping score
to economize
(look at these silk ties!)
and avoid lay-offs
(but not my pay-offs).
Pension plans are strong
and you can't go wrong
stock options to seize
(with those lovely fees).
So we can compete,
sick days I delete.
And I won't renew
health insurance, too.
If you're feeling ill
take an aspirin pill.
But I'll reimburse
if you need a hearse.
Now that we are set
(where's my private jet?)
for economy
(stall the SEC!)
ignore legal writs
(I'll be in St. Kitts)
and be of good cheer
(your check will not clear).
 
***************************************
 
Ding Dong Ducks
Islamic justice sucks.
 
Bim Bom Band
for theft they chop your hand.
 
Foh Fye Fee
and for adultery
 
Tick Tuck Tocks
the woman's killed by rocks.
 
Jim Jam Jerk
and does their system work?
 
Nick Nock Need
Islamic bombers breed
 
Pill Pal Pole
like rabbits in a hole.
 
Rive Rave Ruve
which only goes to prove
 
Zum Zam Zing
that death solves everything.
 


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Monday, December 3, 2007

Taffy Pulling

Oh what a tangled web we weave
when pulling taffy Christmas Eve.
It starts quite innocent enough
with buttered hands on gooey stuff
but strings of taffy soon begin
around our arms and legs to spin.
We pull and pinch and then we fall
together like a popcorn ball.
We roll into the Christmas tree
which covers us in tinsel -- whee!
This web of sugar tit for tat
pulls in the dog and then the cat.
A juggernaut, we roll outside
to pick up swingsets and a slide.
Down in the road we don't get far
before we're stuck onto a car
and carolers we sticky meet
to drag them through the icy street
until without a stop or pause
we run into old Santa Claus.
With reindeer paws and bearded girth
we wobble bulky o'er the earth.
We're partly red and partly green
as we sweep up a manger scene.
Colossal now, we pick up speed
just like a sci-fi film indeed.
So as we smash through snowy crest
we hope your Holidays are blessed!
 


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Monday, October 22, 2007

Fwd: timerick

All kids should be seen but not heard
was known fifty years back as WORD.
Such silence was thought
to show you're well-taught.
That's when I learned flipping the bird.
 
 

Fwd: timerick

The people who work at Walmart
are neither too dumb nor too smart.
Their wages may be
a sure poverty
but layoffs do not play a part.
 
************************************
 
Uncle Sam loses a crony
in the departure of Tony.
Now some other chap
may not take our crap;
leaving us Yanks our baloney.
 

Fwd: timerick

The Democrats gaily predict
in winning Iraq we are licked.
Well, they ought to know.
They started the show
when Kennedy Vietnam picked.

Fwd: timerick

I look out my window and see
a plastic bag waving at me.
From fence post and shrub
to Olde English pub
it shrouds us in ghostly debris.
 

Fwd: timerick

The mind of a man can contain
only so much joy and pain.
And that's why the heart
will have the best part
when Christ comes to rule and to reign.
 

Fwd: timerick

The workaday world has to wait
while blithely I procrastinate.
In fact I shall cease
from writing this piece . . . .

Fwd: timerick

A Baldwin named Alec was mean
into his kid's answer machine.
The upshot is great
for the Fourth Estate
who treat it like MAD Magazine
 
**************************
 
At Denny's the service is slow.
The food, when you get it, is no
treat for the taste buds.
It all tastes of spuds.
The napkins do more flavor show.

Fwd: timerick

The right to bear arms we adore
while bodies pile up on the floor.
We do not care why
so many must die
as long as we have our gun store.
 

Fwd: Timerick and the Crab Legs

It happened in Bakersfield, California; but if you quote me I'll deny it.
Dinnertime found me tucked into my Econo Lodge room, all my reports filed, my laundry freshly done and folded in Bristol fashion, and my stomach agreeably anticipating a solid meal.  Expense would be no object; I was prepared to blow as much as twelve bucks.  Down the street stood an imposing Chinese restaurant with red tiles on the roof and gigantic brass door handles obviously filched from Castle Frankenstein.  Inside, the dim lighting revealed teakwood panels depicting various fat Mandarins and Buddhas reposing on silk pillows while coy maidens danced demurely around them.  The waiters all had red vests.  In other words, a classy joint.
   I chose the buffet, with a lemonade apertif.  The steaming aluminum carts sparkled with seafood.   I would not stint.  After a cup of hot and sour soup I sauntered up to the crab legs and took a round dozen on my plate.
    Now the comedy, or, rather, tragedy, began.
    Gentle reader, please remember that as a child of the Midwest I experienced nothing more saltwater than fishsticks on Fridays.  Then, druing the hectic and threadbare years of marriage & child-rearing there was not a kopeck to spare for anything Atlantic or Pacific from the supermarket freezer.  Besides, the kids hated fish as if it were homework.  So I am not what you might call skilled in the ways of seafood.  I can dig into a red snapper with relish or savor the latex qualities of calumari, but, sad to say, the crab legs were beyond me.
   I seemed to recall that you sucked the meat out of crab legs, like marrow out of a bone.  So I began to suck.  And suck.  And suck.  The drawn butter had grown cold and congealed while I made like a human vacuum cleaner.  Obviously, this was not how you got the meat out of crab legs.  I glanced covertly around me to see if anyone else was eating them, for a clue or hint on how to proceed.  But everyone else was tucking into the pot stickers and Kung Pao chicken.  Next I tried cracking the legs open with my teeth, but the spines discouraged such outre behaviour.  But hunger is the mother of invention.  I broke those crab legs in half and then stuck a chop stick up 'em to dig out the meat.  No go. I blew into a halved crab leg, somewhat like Dizzy Gillespie on the horn, to see if I could force the meat out.  Nope.  Perhaps it was my imagination, but by this time I thought I could hear barely muffled snickers from my fellow gourmands.  I thought my luck had changed when I glanced over at a stout man with piggish little eyes who was holding up a crab leg; he would surely show me how it was done.  But no, I was simply gazing at my own reflection in one of the many mirrors that laced the walls.
    Finally one of the red-vested waiters took pity on me.  Gliding silently by, he laid a nutcracker on my table. Aha!  So that's how it's done.  I grappled no longer, but took up my sturdy instrument and began to massacre those accursed crab legs.  Alas . . . the result was disappointing -- to say the least.  Nothing was in those crab legs but some milky liquid and a flyspeck of meat -- not enough to fill a thimble.  Hands slimey, brow furrowed, stomach unappeased -- I threw in the towel, after wiping my chin on it. Humbly I shambled back to the buffet for fried rice and crab rangoon.
     Now you know the ugly truth -- about crab legs.  They belong to that food group I call airfeed.  This group includes artichokes and bar-b-que ribs.  I have worked up a sweat peeling artichokes to no purpose and have chewed on ketchup and gristle masquerading as bbq ribs until my teeth squeaked.  To all these insubstantial frauds I say BAH!  The next time I want seafood I'll get a can of sardines or some pickled herring.  And I won't pay anything like twelve bucks for it, either. 
    


Mortgage rates near historic lows. Refinance $200,000 loan for as low as $771/month*

Fwd: timerick

From gasoline to the French maid
today everything is prepaid.
They're more elastic
if you've got plastic --
especially so the French maid.

Fwd: timerick

No matter how fine they may grind
the wheels of our justice aren't kind
when turned by a kook
on white boys at Duke.
The system is not color-blind.
 

Fwd: timerick

The reign of Don Imus is oe'er?
The man is a bigotty bore
but that doesn't mean
he'll never be seen --
cuz that's what Shock Radio's for.
 
 

Fwd: timerick

Nutritional supplements claim
to cure all the blind and the lame.
This healing exceeds
all Biblical deeds
and puts every doctor to shame.
 
 

Fwd: timerick

Obama and Hillary tied
on breaking the bank open wide.
The source of their wealth
is cloaked in great stealth:
A dollar for each time they lied?
 
 

Fwd: timerick

Walt Disney has nothing on  me
when it comes to grand fantasy.
My tax return must
have more fairy dust
than Tinkerbell's whole family.

Fwd: timerick

Now one of the campaigning schticks
you must have is a crucifix.
Nobody breathin'
votes for a heathen.
We'd rather have true Christian tricks.
 

Fwd: timerick

Fat people watching their weight.
Rich people pulling their freight.
Dumb people on scholarships.
Poor people leaving big tips.
Ugly girls curling their hair.
Babies in clean underwear.
Everyone wishing to hope
no noose at end of the rope.
 

Fwd: timerick

When young, I was told the Chinese
had nothing to eat but dried peas
so I'd better snarf
what looked like green barf
or something produced by a sneeze.

Fwd: timerick

Monogamy in the Old Test.
was not thought of as for the best.
The wed patriarch
would go out to spark
with something we'll call holy zest.

Fwd: timerick

Iran is just spoiling to fight
most all of the West's combined might.
Iraq, they suppose,
has bloodied our nose --
our bark is now worse than our bite.

Fwd: timerick

Sexual orientation
means in unpolished translation
if you love a sheep
then go on and bleep
without any fear of damnation.

Fwd: Timerick and the Huckabee

Pro-Lifers will never get in
the White House -- that pit of dark sin.
Now if the unborn
could toot their own horn
then Huckabee surely would win.
 
Heavy fog this morning melted into a dismal grey drizzle this afternoon here in northwest Iowa.  But the sun made a guest appearance around 5pm, just as I pulled out of Sheldon on my way to Alton, to hear presidential candidate Mike Huckabee.  In fact, the sun broke through the clouds in the generous midwestern sky with striking beauty, laying bare the wet fertile fields.  It was good to be out and about; it was good to be going to a political campaign; and surely it was good that Huckabee had been a Baptist minister before he became Governor of Arkansas.  Prior to his appearance at the Sioux Country Club (where John McCain had preached to the choir just a week before) a 12-year-old girl played patriotic and gospel selections on her violin as the crowd stood in line for corn chowder and brownies.  To this intrepid reporter
 the chowder was a watery disapointment.  The brownies, however, were obviously the work of a good farmer's wife --chock-a-block with creamy marshmallows and mint-chocolate chips.  I could have eaten a round dozen of 'em, but showed great restraint by only gobbling six.
     Huckabee had had a busy day shaking babies and kissing hands prior to showing up in Alton, but he appeared bouncy as a new kitten as he began his sermon.  I don't know if it's something in the water around here or what, but political candidates, even if they were not gospel ministers in a previous life, can't help getting that evangelical glint in their eyes and that evangelical catch in their throats as they address a congregation of dyed-in-the-wool Republicans about immigration, taxes and (would somebody give me an Amen!) abortion.  I expected someone to start passing the plate and fished in my pocket for some spare change or at least a collar button.
    Actually I missed the first fifteen minutes of his address, since I was closeted with a fellow journalist -- a guy named Michael Finnigan from the Los Angeles Times who had been sent out on special assignment to cover Huckabee for two days.  Gullible soul; he introduced himself to me and when I told him I had been a circus clown (among other things) before becoming a radio newscaster he was all agog and wanted some background for possible use in his story on Huckabee.  I filled him full of windy tales of my fabled encounters with Michu the World's Smallest Man and the secret to how all those clowns could fit in such a teeny tiny little car.  I would have gone on to intimate I had taught Emmett Kelly everything he knew but we both decided to catch the Huckabee finale. 
     Huckabee spoke at great length and with great feeling about his nine previous trips to Israel. His subject and tone reminded me of a General Conference address and I couldn't help glancing around to see where they had stowed the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
     Now I mean no disrespect to Huckabee in person, but I am always irked when a parson starts talking about the poor and the disenfranchised and what he wants to do for them.  And I can't help remembering that the Saviour spoke to both the rich and the poor; and generally when he spoke to the rich it was to tickle their ears with reproof.  So I wondered if and when Huckabee had last spoken to a homeless person or at a half-way house for addicts, and what he might have said in such a place to such people.  What I saw was a man speaking to the comfortable caddy and sportcoat crowd, the people who voted, telling them in polished, pleasing words what a good choice for President he would be because he did care so much for the poor and the down-trodden and those aborted fetuses.
    I guess I'm waiting for a candidate who campaigns among those who don't know how to vote or can't vote -- that's the guy I'll put my money on.  It's gonna be a long, long wait . . .

Fwd: timerick

Nutritionists are all agreed
that fiber is our greatest need.
But when I eat bran
I feel like rattan
in my gut wants to secede.

Fwd: timerick

SCREEN PLAY
 
Start with sex.
Then a murder.
Take the sex
a little furder.
Use a sunset.
Lonely figure.
Close-up now.
Make it bigger.
On a beach
set explosion.
Lots of rain.
Some erosion.
Must have dog
and some kids.
Parents weird.
Flip their lids.
Courtroom scene.
Judge has sex
while the jury
cranes their necks.
Start the gunplay.
Kids in danger.
Big name star
as the Stranger.
Lots of beer.
Snort some coke.
But no one
allowed to smoke.
Funny priest,
stupid cop
make mad love
in bookshop.
Therapist
sits them down.
Has bad breath.
Hair like mop.
Bad guy falls
over cliff.
Dog breaks leg.
All do sniff.
Final scene
in slo mo.
Popcorn gone.
Time to go.

Fwd: timerick

The best things in life may be free
but that isn't E-Harmony.
If you want a match
come up with the scratch
or sleep alone eternally.
 

Fwd: timerick

BY ONE WHO KNOWS
 
 

The gold in old Peru

The Spanish all withdrew.

The jade so well-adored

That surly dragons hoard.

Ovations by the ton

That actors never shun.

The light of shining grace

That acolytes embrace.

Are merely bric-a-brac

To the insomniac.

The treasure he would reap?

Unmedicated sleep.

Fwd: timerick

When Lazarus came out the grave
there was one thing he ne'er forgave.
It was that he could never be
spared a lurid eulogy.
 
 

Fwd: Timerick

AN AMERICAN SUCCESS STORY
 
I took a little cliche
and blew it up until
its very presence made folk
look out their window sill.
 
I stuffed it full of nonsense
from textbooks long disused.
A price tag I did give it
that millionaires refused.
 
In stores I would not sell it
nor go from door to door.
I said it was a secret
and then said nothing more.
 
Jay Leno soon did knock it
one night upon TV.
The crowds, they came a-swarming
like waves upon the sea.
 
The experts cried eureka
as well they bloody should.
I paid them off in greenbacks
not nickles made of wood.
 
Now I am rich and famous.
My cliche sacrosanct.
I'm leaving just for Switzerland;
my money there is banked.
 
 

Fwd: timerick

The corndogs will bloom any day
and popsicles nest in the hay.
The lemonade soon
will creek beds festoon
while sno-cones release their bouquet.

Fwd: Timerick and John McCain

On the off chance that John McCain becomes the next president, yours truly thought it important to jot down a few notes & thoughts on a town hall meeting the man held this evening over in Alton, Iowa, at the Sioux Golf & Country Club.  I got off work early to go cover it,and got a free bowl of chili and a big wedge of cornbread, so who's complaining?
     The media were out in force, of course, mostly young and blonde with cell phones glued to their perfectly coiffed hair do's.  But this being Iowa they were talking to their mothers about the potroast on Sunday and not negotiating a hostage deal or bantering with their sexy boyfriends.
   McCain carries a full cadre of dark-suited lock-stepping young men and women to handle the crowds and media.  Since you can't go ten seconds in a McCain rally without hearing about his extensive Navy experience I expected him to arrive on a battle ship and be piped aboard by the bosun, dressed in an admirals uniform.  In fact, his campaign bio is titled: A SON OF THE NAVY.  When I read that the shade of W.C. Fields rose up next to me muttering "Ah yes, of dubious parentage . . . "
    They dumped us media lepers way in the back on those wretched metal folding chairs that are the bane of my existence.  I develop incipient scoliosis everytime I sit on one for more than ten minutes.
      Himself spoke briefly and then took questions from the audience.  Most of the questions were rambling, incoherent and so devoid of grammar as to defy a Daniel Webster from understanding them.  In fact, most weren't even questions, just meandering statements from elderly goops hopped up on prune juice.  No one under sixty was allowed to frame a question, so it all had to do with Social Security and those damn illegal aliens that are stealing our jobs and raping our daughters.  Miraculously McCain listened courteously,then pretended he had just heard a profound question worthy of Maimonides (go look that one up on Wikipedia -- I had to for the right spelling).
     Now folks, an old and wise clown named Prince Paul once told me -- he who toots his own horn shall be tooted.  Nevertheless and be that as it may, I have to say that during the media session afterwards I had the best question of the night.  McCain is a Reaganesque spinner of stories.  So I asked him why Republicans are better story tellers than Democrats.  He chuckled deeply at my whimsical yet pithy question, then talked about the war in Iraq.
    Say goodnight Gracie . . . 
    


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Fwd: timerick

There's always some kind of disease
that doesn't get even a sneeze
from media folk
who won't even joke
about it unless it's got sleaze.
 

Fwd: timerick

I'll never write a love poem.
Such superfluous drag
is meant for babes and humbugs
who think it's all a gag.
 
I'll never cry for beauty.
Why should I beat my breast
over something so unsure
that nobody can test?
 
I'll never grow religious
the way some people do.
Telling others where to go
while sitting in a pew.
 
I'll never write a love poem.
No beauty hustles me.
No creed can set my limits.
It's lonely being free.

Fwd: timerick

Gonzales is gonna go south.
The A.G. has got a big mouth.
Admitting mistakes
were made by his flakes --
he's dead meat without any douth.
 
 
(Alright, YOU find something to rhyme with mouth & south!)
 

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Fwd: timerick

Old Noah took into the ark
the rabbit and lizard and lark.
But how he did mourn
that the unicorn
was told to swim next to the shark.
 

Fwd: timerick

For centuries salt was adored,
protected by speech and by sword.
But sodium now
is no sacred cow.
We heave it like mad overboard.

Fwd: timerick

A soldier sent to Walter Reed
must have boundless courage indeed.
The bedpans stay full
and you need some pull
to get a clean corner to bleed.
 


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Fwd: timerick

The Simpsons are over the hill.
Their humor is turning quite shrill.
The son of a guns
are doing reruns,
imposing upon our goodwill.

Fwd: timerick

The elderly have their own lingo
like "early bird special" and "bingo".
Or keep yourself 'spruce'
by swigging prune juice
while setting up some pink flamingo.

Fwd: timerick

Revenge need not stir up your gall.
Stand back and watch enemies fall.
The hated one will
take their fated spill
for life makes a fool of us all.
 

Fwd: timerick

In Eden the animals heard
their names from old Adam assurred.
But Eve felt left out
and so there's no doubt
today she must have the last word.

Fwd: timerick

The Bible and Shakespeare are dead.
The only thing people have read
for twenty years past
are records amassed
by Guiness World Records instead.

The Man Who Wasn't There

THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE
 
There was a man
who ran away
when nobody pursued.
 
He chased himself
out of all love
to live in solitude.
 
His family knew
of him by guess
or by the bland postcard.
 
He never came
to funerals.
He claimed they were too hard.
 
It came to pass
his heart grew weak
from fatty mortal care.
 
And no one knew
the ending of
the man who wasn't there.

Fwd: timerick

Suppress all your feelings, my friend.
My ear I don't willingly bend.
Your battered psyche
should take a hikey
until it can quietly mend.

Fwd: timerick

The ice caps are melting.  Big Deal.
The polar bears suffer.  Get Real.
It's Nature's own law
come freeze or come thaw --
make way for the automobile!

Fwd: timerick

High fructose corn syrup invades
our food products in mass cascades.
No wonder our young
have already sprung
more blubber than coins in arcades.

Fwd: timerick

Mitt Romney has only one spouse
but once he got in the White House
he might get the urge
on weddings to splurge --
all partisan feeling to douse.

Fwd: timerick

When Tiger Woods misses a putt
we secretly start off to strut.
He isn't so great
we tell our bored mate,
I could have made that with eyes shut.

Fwd: timerick

They say that by taking fish oil
all wrinkles and aches will recoil.
I'd rather combat
old age with a hat
made out of the cheapest tinfoil.

Fwd: timerick

I'm tired of words, greatly so.
They seem like the dirty gray snow;
smothering meaning
and intervening
to keep my green life far below.

Fwd: timerick

Let me explain that 'rendition'
is an accepted tradition
if you're too tender
yourself to render
a specimen for sedition.

Fwd: timerick

The prayer of the righteous will work.
But what of the fink and the jerk?
Do their crummy pleas
stay put at their knees?
Who carries it up past the murk?
 
 

Fwd: timerick

I'd like to know what is the plan
to stamp out the darn Taliban.
The more that we shoot
the more they reboot.
Perhaps we should feed them on bran.

Fwd: timerick

Ray Bradbury writes of the weird.
Of creatures with fangs many tiered.
His Midwestern sense
leaves us the most tense
when bragging aloud: "I ain't skeered!"

Fwd: timerick

So call out a damn p.c. cop --
I tell you I hate that hip hop.
It only can thrive
as witch doctor jive.
As music it's not even slop.

Fwd: timerick

Hugh Grant is a talent, I guess,
who takes careful thought to assess.
Though ladies may pant
he ain't Cary Grant.
His snotty ways lack some finesse.

Fwd: timerick

We won't go to war with Iran.
At least we do not have a plan!
But wait -- did we not
just make up a plot
for Iraq and Afghanistan?

Fwd: timericks

A discounted flight is so slow
it puts all your plans in escrow.
The seats are so tight
your toes will turn white.
The meals are a lukewarm Play Doh.

Fwd: timerick

Because I am living austere
I only change socks once a year.
The laundry I save
allows me to waive
the ill effects on my career.

Fwd: timerick

They're recalling food at a rate
that keeps me from being sedate
whenever I chew
some veal cordon bleu
or poke at the greens on my plate.

Fwd: timericks

Convenience stores pepper the land
like spinach is sprinkled with sand.
They're easy to rob
but you'll love the job
if you can make change while you stand.

Fwd: timerick

Bad habits are made to be broke.
The truth though tis hard must be spoke.
A promise once made
you must not let fade.
And Pepsi just loves to drink Coke.
 

Fwd: timerick

The Dollar coin's coming our way.
Old green paper George cannot stay.
Our legs will be bowed
from hefting the load.
Shout hernia doctors: "Hooray!"

Fwd: timerick

To love is to lose, poets sigh.
All romance must wither and die.
They cannot conceive
a God who would weave
a knot you can never untie.

timerick

Joe Conrad wrote of the South Sea
in language of the bourgeoisie.
His heroes were staid.
His heroines swayed.
His natives had no pedigree.
 

Arrangements

ARRANGEMENTS
 
For my eulogy please write
everything upon a kite.
Hold the string with all your might.
When it snaps yell "Outta sight!"
 
For my coffin try to nag
undertakers for a bag.
Label it with orange tag.
Toss it off some lofty crag.
 
Tell the grandkids their grandpa
should not now be held in awe.
Tell them of my every flaw
and that I could play the saw.
 
All the cash I've left on hand
use to go to Disneyland.
Come back looking fit and tanned.
Mourn me with a rubber band.

Showers

People take too many showers.
Think of those wet wasted hours!
I really don't know
what's wrong with BO
as long as the soul smells of flowers.

timerick

The jellyfish doesn't conform
to cuddly thoughts that are warm.
Just one careless clutch
will put you in touch
with something more like a bee swarm.

timerick

The body was not even cold
when everyone had to be told
that Anna Nicole
still had one more role --
as Corpse-of-the-Month she is gold.

timerick

I'm glad I am cured of the itch
to work myself hard to get rich.
Do you think Bill Gates
and all of his mates
grew wealthy from digging a ditch?

timerick

I'm sleeping the sleep of the just.
My worries have all turned to dust.
When out of the blue
my gut yells "Yoo-Hoo!"
and off to the bathroom I must.

timerick

A paperclip is so absurd
as icon for Microsoft Word.
The eyeballs do roll
without any soul.
It makes a true writer deterred.

timerick

In cyberspace nothing is blacker
than deeds of the secluded hacker.
Like the Almighty
he knows your ID.
Our cyber-shields are merely lacquer.

timerick

Iraq cheats us out of our dough
more than any carny sideshow.
Bush and his barkers
must be quite starkers
to think that their gaff we won't blow.

timerick

An astronaut, Lisa Marie,
is charged with assault, third degree.
Her rocketman flew
where it was taboo --
his co-pilot found a banshee.

timerick

The trouble with people who curse
is that they all love to converse.
They think verbal farts
display their best parts.
Oh, why can't they learn to be terse?

timerick

We know that the groundhog predicts
when winter is done with its tricks.
If only we knew
the same for the crew
that put us in this Iraq fix.

Fwd: timerick

Man not only leaves his disgrace
on earth but must put it in space.
The junk circling round
would surely confound
Copernicus and all his race.

timerick

Americans won't work a job
that treats them too much like a slob.
So processing plants
like old maiden aunts
take anything out of the mob.

timerick

All coffee to me tastes like mud.
As beverage it is a dud.
If I want a jolt
an electric volt
serves better to make my heart thud.
 


timerick

I may watch the Super Bowl, lads.
But not for the players in pads.
That knocking about
just gives me the gout.
I tune in for all the great ads.

timerick

Now every bag left all alone
is figured a bomb to be blown.
The shopper who drops
a sack has the cops
on them like Sylvester Stallone.

timerick

Now Huckabee's running for Prez.
What's next -- a Shrine clown in a fez?
There should be a law
that from Arkansas
we only want heads that are Pez.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Healthcare

Since children do not have the vote
why should they get healthcare by rote?
They mostly survive
if not really thrive.
We don't need more taxes to tote.
 
 


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Friday, October 19, 2007

Waterboarding

Waterboarding is a sport
that makes liberals all snort.
If applied to bleeding hearts
maybe they will get some smarts;
realize that omlettes come
only when you break a thumb.
Fire must be fought with flame.
Home-grown torture is no shame.
 


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Tuesday, October 16, 2007

timerick

Congressional medals it seems
are wrecking Red China's grand dreams
of keeping Tibet
as their household pet
no matter the volume of screams.
 
 


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Monday, October 15, 2007

timerick

Fie on you, President Putin.
Blustering of missiles shootin'.
We'd like to throw out
your grim Slavic pout.
You sure deserve a good bootin'.
 


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Saturday, October 13, 2007

timerick

They say women's lipstick has lead
which certainly fills men with dread
because in the clinch
it sure is a cinch
that one kiss could knock him quite dead.
 


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Friday, October 12, 2007

timerick

Al Gore has more lives than a cat.
You can't keep him down when he's flat.
The warmer the Earth
the less cause for mirth
at thinking he'll throw in his hat.
 
 


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Thursday, October 11, 2007

Which?



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Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Take my advice . . . please!

Never go to bed with your shoes on.
 
If at first you DO succeed don't brag about it.
 
Clean your plate and you'll still have to wash it.
 
A silent woman has something on her mind; a silent man is just glad to be alive.
 
Insight comes C.O.D.
 
Flatter your boss for quick prmotion; your spouse for quick suspicion.
 
Spite stays busier than goodwill.
 
Take time to smell the garbage and you're watching too much TV
 
Don't bother to aim high; aim true.
 
Money lets you dream.  Work let's you live.
 
Listen to your heart unless you have a lot of money.
 
An enemy is just a friend you haven't killed yet.
 
God doesn't count calories.
 
Your life is like your laundry; nobody wants to do it for you.
 
If you have to ask how much something costs you don't have enough credit cards.
 
Your children will teach you more than your parents.
 
Stupidity is a franchise.
 
There are two kinds of people in the world -- when you find out what they are let me know.


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Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Princess Di

We do not much recognize
the winner of each Nobel Prize.
But identify
with ease Princess Di
and all of her lover-boy guys.
 


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Monday, October 8, 2007

Crandon

We do not need troops in Iraq
to save us from terror attack.
Put them in Crandon
till we abandon
our own massacres back to back.
 


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Saturday, October 6, 2007

Marion Jones

If Marion Jones would get smart
she'd say steroid use is an art
requiring poise
to win those gold toys
and start her own brand at Walmart.
 
 


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Friday, October 5, 2007

Senator Craig

And then there is Senator Craig
who's cursed with a wandering leg.
He says he will plead
according to creed
by keeping his story quite vague.
 


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Thursday, October 4, 2007

Oreck

Consider the vacuums of Oreck.
The promises made are euphoric.
It leaves not a hint
of dirt fuzz or lint
and dust becomes something historic.
 
 


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Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Blackwater

The Blackwater managers claim
they shoot, not to kill, but to maim.
Their training includes
ignoring all feuds.
They treat every corpse just the same.
 
 


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Tuesday, October 2, 2007

The Hobby

A hobby is something you get
in place of an annoying pet.
You might collect stamps
or photograph tramps.
Don't tell me about it just yet.
 
 


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Monday, October 1, 2007

Tainted

Now hamburger proves to be tainted.
Our FDA's no longer sainted.
Those government hacks
are totally lax --
with E. Colli they're unacquainted.
 


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timerick

 
Now hamburger proves to be tainted.
Our FDA's no longer sainted.
Those government hacks
are totally lax --
with E. Colli they're unacquainted.
 


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Tuesday, September 25, 2007

timerick

All manner of thought should be met
on campus but I must regret
that freedom of speech
should now have to reach
Iranian nuts with its net.
 


Make your little one a shining star! Shine on!

timerick

All manner of thought should be met
on campus but I must regret
that freedom of speech
should now have to reach
Iranian nuts with its net.
 


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Friday, September 21, 2007

Not Too Bright

I do not consider too bright
the people who bleach their teeth white.
Who cares that  your teeth
light up like a wreath
if you put 'em in water each night?
 


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Thursday, September 20, 2007

Toilet Bowl

According to my TV screen
you must keep your toilet bowl clean.
Ignore this command
and you'll surely stand
acussed of unholy hygiene.
 


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Forgive & Forget

Forgive and forget is a phrase
that's certainly seen better days.
We savor a grudge
as if it were fudge
then spread it like bad mayonaise.
 


Make your little one a shining star! Shine on!

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Federal Reserve Nerve

They certainly do have their nerve
down there at the old Fed Reserve.
They're giving rebates
on key interest rates
so bankers go all whirling derv.
 


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Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Ambition

A skunk has no need for cologne.
A rabbit has no need to clone.
Rats need no dentures.
Sloths have no ventures.
Ambition is man's curse alone.
 
 


Make your little one a shining star! Shine on!

Monday, September 17, 2007

Timerick does it again

I want you, right this minute, to go get your road atlas.  Under the index for Texas I want you to look up Reno.  Now go to the map of Texas and pinpoint the town, just to the east of Paris.  Got it?  Good.  I was hoping to end my last week as publicity director for Culpepper & Merriweather Circus in a blaze of glory, or at least without a massive fiasco.  But Reno, Texas, plunged me into buffoonery once again.
  I called the sponsor, a volunteer firefighters organization, and set up an appointment for Saturday morning, at the fire station.  I'm there plenty early, as usual.  An hour goes by.  No sponsor.  I leave said sponsor a voice message, regretting etc.  Said sponsor calls me back on Sunday, saying he was out at the fire station but didn't see me.  Not one to call another man a liar, I complacently take the blame -- must've just missed each other, blah, blah, blah.  We agree to meet Monday morning at the fire station.  I'm there bright and early.  Again no sponsor.  This time I start to boil.  So I decide to go right to the top.  I call the fire chief at city hall.  He is affability itself, sorry to hear I missed my connection again.  He agrees to  meet me at the fire station in two minutes.  So I wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Thirty minutes later the chief calls me back to ask if I am at the fire station, as he hasn't seen me.  I'm right in front of the cotton-pickin' station, so I start to bang on the front door.
"Can you hear me now?" I holler into my cell phone.
No.  He can't.
I bang louder.
"I'm right here!  Just open the door and you'll see me!"
"I'm outside right now . . . "
We continue in this Abbott and Costello vein for a few more minutes until the chief asks "What county are you in right now?"
Oh oh.
Lamar County, right outside of Paris.
Well, partner, Reno is a suburb of Fort Worth.  There are two Renos in Texas.
Pause here, cherished reader, and try to imagine my feelings at that moment.  My face glowed with a plutonium-grade blush.
Luckily the chief was a forgiving soul.  So we agreed to meet, this time in the right town, this coming Saturday.  Pray for me, readers.  Pray for me.


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Sunday, September 16, 2007

Junk Mail

My junk mail has changed radically.
It really can't be meant for me.
It used to annoy
with ads for Playboy.
But now it's all AARP.
 
 


Make your little one a shining star! Shine on!

Friday, September 14, 2007

OJ

So OJ's in trouble again.
He's stealing stuff from his own den.
A story so huge
sure makes a deluge
with more noise than comes from Big Ben.
 
 


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The Quark

The quark has a dreadful design.
'Twould make Isaac Newton repine.
Quantum mechanics
most often panics
construction of any straight line.
 


Make your little one a shining star! Shine on!

Thursday, September 13, 2007

timerick

The war in Iraq never ceases
and some hold the following thesis:
We have to stay put
and not move a foot
cuz people there love us to pieces.
 


Make your little one a shining star! Shine on!

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Adam & Eve

Did Adam and Eve come before
or after the huge dinosaur?
It couldn't be Eden
if those things were breedin',
which would explain Eve's apple core.


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Saturday, September 8, 2007

Timerick visits Ringling, Oklahoma.

I'm weekending in Ardmore, Oklahoma, already starting to get "trunky" for the circus season to end.  I've got two more weeks of work and then phffft!, it's over.  I'll be scouting around for another soft berth -- I've thought of hiring myself out as a gigilo for blind women, but that would entail buying a pair of sunglasses, which I hate.
     I'm happy to report that I'm up to 3rd District Arkansas Congressman John Boozman in my collage campaign.  His collage, a masterpiece if I do say so myself, is entitled "Puppies from a sewer pipe".  That's the newspaper headline I pasted over the whole thing as it was drying.  Drifting off to sleep at night I like to imagine that Congress has called me in front of an investigative committee for my subversive artwork.  I'm dressed in jeans, a white turtleneck, and have a black beret at a rakish angle on my head.  I'm wearing sandals, of course, and when the stuffy senator asks what I do for a living I casually say I'm a conceptual artist.
Senator:  "And what exactly is a conceptual artist, Mr. Torkildson?"
Me:  "My art embraces concepts that normal channels do not address, so it is done with abnormal material through abnormal means."
Senator (attempting a joke):  "So you're telling this committee you consider yourself abnormal?"
Me:  "I consider myself an American citizen with the right to express myself freely and fully in any medium I wish -- which apparently makes me abnormal in your eyes, Senator."
The senator hems and haws, then abruptly adjourns the committee meeting.  I am soon after awarded the Nobel Prize.
 
    Moving right along . . .a little travel writing.  If you gaze upon a map of Oklahoma long enough you will become intrigued by a pinprick near the Texas border called Ringling.  It is 31 miles due west of Ardmore, on State Highway 70, so I thought I'd mosey on over there this morning to see what the town is all about.  The Ringling Chamber of Commerce put up a sign in the shape of a circus tent, welcoming visitors to town, but the sign is engulfed in kudzu and slippery elm branches so it's almost impossible to see.  The paint is also peeling off of it, and it's streaked brown from years in the pitiless sun and rain.  Outside of that, there was nothing in the town to indicate why the town is named Ringling.  There are signs everywhere, including right on the town water tower, bragging that Ringling is the home of the Blue Devils football team. If I lived in Ringling, Oklahoma, (population 495) I'd have the blue devils, too.  Wanting to give my readers some legitimate background, I stopped by the local newspaper, The Ringling Eagle, but they were closed.  If I was somebody like Paul Theroux, who has written 20 travel books, I'd have struck up a conversation with the locals to see what they could tell me.  But I'm not Theroux and besides the place was a ghost town on a Saturday morning; I saw two teenage boys walking down the middle of Main Street trying to punch each other in the crotch, but otherwise nada jente.
   Then it started a steaming drizzle, so I hopped back into my Ford Taurus station wagon, cranked the a/c up full blast, and tooled back to Ardmore.  A late breakfast at IHOP of fruit filled crepes, washed down with thick hot chocolate, put me in an excellent mood, so I stopped by Walmart to develop some digital photos.  This is a Supercenter, so they've got an excellent supermarket as well.  I went looking for humus, to spread on some french bread this evening as my dinner.  But the Walmart in Ardmore does not have humus, and none of the store clerks I asked had ever even heard of it.  They looked at me strangely when I explained it was a dip made out of garbanzo beans, tahini, lemon juice, and olive oil.  The store has lobster, head cheese, frozen sushi, pickled okra, pigeon peas, and even matzoh ball soup, but no humus.  I settled for spinach dip. 


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Friday, September 7, 2007

timerick

Pavoratti will warble no more.
He's gone to the furthermost shore.
But what a sad fate
that yon Pearly Gate
won't let in his corpulent core!
 
 


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Thursday, September 6, 2007

timerick

Fred Thompson has joined the rat race
to take Georgie Bush's grand place.
An actor like Reagan,
he looks more like Fagan.
He'd better not count on his face.
 
 


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Wednesday, September 5, 2007

When dealing with gals

When dealing with gals -- have a care!
Don't ask them if they dye their hair.
They either will lie
or punch out an eye.
Just tell them it looks sweet and fair.
 


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Tuesday, September 4, 2007

timerick

A hostage is someone who gets
caught up in some crazy group's nets.
No matter their faith
they're put on the lathe
to pay for some other folks' debts.


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Saturday, September 1, 2007

timerick

 
For old movies I'm very keen.
I relish each black and white scene.
Garbo or Gable,
they were all able
to make love securely off-screen.
 
 


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timerick lives in a motorhome

I trust you folks don't mind the larger font size; my weary old eyes tire so quickly trying to proof-read anything smaller.  If you need something to read to take your mind off the ennui of the long and usually useless Labor Day weekend, here it is; another chapter from those halycon years when the world was my oyster.  This one, in a way, is about hockey, but mostly it's about living in a motorhome.
   You've all been very patient with me over these past months as I've complained about the questionable motels I stay at as part of my job traveling for Culpepper & Merriweather Circus.  So I thought I would take you back to 1973, when I lived in a 35-foot motorhome, provided by Ringling Brothers Circus.
 The winter of 1972 was a bad one; I returned from Mexico, having canceled a world tour with noted pantomime artist Sigfrido Aguilar due to a slight case of amoebic dysentary.  My five-eleven frame had melted down to a mere 105 pounds.  The Mexican doctors were agreed that I needed to put some meat on my gringo bones back in the States, so I holed up with the parents in Minneapolis.  A few dozen doses of antibiotics and a raft of solid meals featuring meat not crawling with flies and potatoes in all their glorious disguises soon had me back on my flat feet, facing the prospect of hunting for a job.
   Early spring; the elm trees shyly uncurling their leaves and fat robins strutting in the backyard with heads tilted for another worm.  I sat in the kitchen, sunk in gloom, the Want Ads spread all around me.  Then the phone rang.
    Thirty years ago when the phone rang at home it was a pretty important event.  And loud.  Phones sounded like fire alarms back then.
   I picked up the receiver to hear the mellow tones of a comrade-in-arms from Mexico, Steve Smith.  He came right to the point.  Being no slouch, he had been pestering the Ringling office for a clown job all winter.  They had nothing on the show for him, but they needed a clown team to travel ahead of the show for advance publicity.  Could Smith get a reliable partner?  He was calling me to find out.
    That's how the immortal duo of Dusty & TJ Tatters was born.  We traveled the length and the breadth of this fair land, appearing at school assemblies, in childrens hospital wards, and at supermarket grand openings -- anywhere clowns would garner a few columns of linotype or 30 seconds on the local tv news. 
    And we traveled in a motorhome provided by the circus, me buckos.  Smith and I divided the duties in an equitable manner; he drove the thing and I did all the cooking.  Ah yes, I grew quite skilled in tossing together a stew or ragout into the crockpot in the morning so we could come home to a hot meal after the comedy labors of the day were done.  Smith was easy to please.  He'd grown up in a household that relied on a staple he called Potato Chip Casserole, and his idea of fine dining was a bag of Oreos and a quart of Coca Cola.  Of course, being the navigator, Smith insisted on the perogative of the master bed in the back of the motorhome, leaving me with the bed that folded out from the under the kitchen table.  As the season progressed my bed developed a benign tumor right in the middle of the mattress, but we were young and carefree and I overlooked the stabbing back pain each morning as a trifle.
   Now to the hockey part, or is it basketball?  Someone will have to remind which sport gets the Stanley Cup each year. 
   This much is distinct; we were parked at the Spectrum in Philadelphia.  Sunday morning, and I put on a clean white shirt, black trousers, and struggled with a shiny polyester necktie bought at J.C. Penney's for two-dollars.  My knots were all thumbs, so to speak.  I always wound up with a bulging clot under my chin that made me look like I had a goiter.  No matter.  We had Sunday off, and I was on my way to the local LDS church for services.  Smith was esconced in his bed, watching tv and gorging on Oreos and a six pack of Coke.
   Being a professional gad-about for the past 30 years or so, I have noticed a sad, sad decline in LDS hospitality.  Back then I had only to show up at church, shake a few hands, and I would be fending off dinner invitations right and left.  Today when I show up as a stranger at church I am pretty much ignored, and the few limp handshakes I get are never accompanied by a dinner invitation.  I guess Mormons don't go in for grand Sunday dinners anymore, that the stranger at the gate in these post-9/11 times is not considered a blessing.  Of course back then I was a comely youth, obviously unmarried and ripe for romantic enterprise.  And when I would announce casually that I was saving my money to go on a mission for the church, well . . . mom and dad couldn't think of a better catch for their daughter than yours truly.  So the invite home for baked ham, whipped potatoes, greenbean casserole, and a big honking bowl of jello was always forthcoming.  Today, alas, when I slouch in to church it is obvious from the get-go that I am not only past my prime, but have that hunted, ferret-like, appearance that announces to the world: This Guy Owes A Lot Of Back Child Support.  And it doesn't help that I still haven't learned how to tie a decent necktie knot.  Thus, I now spend my Sunday afternoons at the buffet table at KFC, not breaking bread with some respectable LDS family in the bossom of their own home.
   But enough kvetching.  Back to that Sunday in Philadelphia.  As I say, I was invited home for dinner after church -- to the Bishop's house, if memory serves, where we feasted on one another's company just as much as we did on the home-canned plums and peaches and other goodies from an ample cellar filled with food storage items.  There was a daughter, her name escapes me at this late date.  We promised to write to each other faithfully each week until after my mission -- as Mary Poppins said, pie crust promises; easily made & easily broken.
    Then I returned to the motorhome with a basket of leftovers for that godless young man Smith, who had wasted his day in bed rioting with cookies and beverages drenched in corn syrup.
     But something was strangely amiss with the motorhome.  The tires were flat.  The windshield was broken.  Dents and scratches covered the sides of the vehicle.  I rushed inside to find Smith on his knees, grimly washing the floor and softly repeating every blasphemy he could think of. 
    Turns out that while I had been singing psalms at church, the Philadelphia Flyers had won the Stanley Cup and the fans had erupted in a drunken euphoria once they reached the parking lot where our motorhome unfortunately stood.  They tried tipping it over and setting it on fire.  Failing that, they merely vandalized it -- including climbing on top, ripping off the air vent, and urinating inside.  And Smith had been inside the whole blessed time.
    We never did get that urine smell quite gone.  And the poor old motorhome seemed to lose mechanical heart after that; when we were heading west through the Rockies the engine became unreliable, stranding us several times.  By the time we reached the West Coast the circus took away our motorhome and put us up in swanky hotels for the rest of the season.  Gourmet room service and a valet to sponge and press your suit coat day or night.  No cable tv back in those days, but 30 years ago just to have four channels on a color tv was pretty darn ritzy.
   There is no moral to this story, only a wistful memory of youthful days when going to church meant a dinner invitation and my continuing uncertainty about the Stanley Cup . . . is that for hockey or basketball? 
 


Kick back and relax with hot games and cool activities at the Messenger Café.