Ear Blast
30 April 2006
Poor Max!
Got his eardrum blown out
By someone too lax
Who chooses to sit and pout
Instead of learning how to turn the dial
So the earpiece feedback doesn’t echo a mile
And leave those who can still hear
Trembling daily in fear
Of momentarily being deafened
By ignorance too foolish to defend
Star-Spangled Neighborhood
27 April 2006
It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood today. The sun shone brilliantly, glinting off the wind-tipped water. A sizable flag, worthy of a battlefield, waved gently at the entrance to the ungated community. I don’t remember noticing it before, perhaps because it had previously been obscured by fog, rain, and night. Today, however, it set me singing, and soon I found myself in the midst of a rousing chorus of The Star-Spangled Banner. What startled me, however, was the repeated desire to holler out, “Play Ball!” as I rounded the final phrase of the song before plunging back in for another round, as generally happens when a song settles into one’s head.
Play Ball: This is the exhortation of governmental and commercial interests alike. In this land of free enterprise and home of the brave entrepreneur, the general populace is daily encouraged to play ball, to buy into shared acquisitive interests, to blindly stay within bounds and fend off the dangerous tendency to succumb to “rabbit ears” that might cause us to notice what observers think and say. Such spectators are stigmatized as foreigners, aliens, and special interest groups. What can they possibly understand of our shared aspirations? We dare not let them disrupt our unity of spirit as we surge forward toward our destined Pyrrhic victories.
How does one’s mind wend its way from such a patriotic stimulus to such dangerously subversive thoughts? Clearly, it comes from being in a clearly foggy place.
Infinite Hold
25 April 2006
An 800 number call is a curious thing
First there’s that familiar sounding ring
A perky voice pipes up to greet you
Without even asking what why or who
You just get a list of options from which to pick
But you’ll find yourself on hold if you don’t decide quick
That’s when you’ll find yourself on Infinite Hold
Clinging to your receiver till your fingers grow cold
Maybe there’s music but maybe there’s not
Sometimes there’s silence when a company doesn’t care squat
Static’s another curious sound you might hear
If hanging up and redialing is something you fear
I’ve been hanging on here now for nearly two days
My hand’s gone numb and my mind’s in a daze
Every so often someone comes back to promise
Someone will be with me shortly because I’m a call they don’t want to miss
I’d hang up but I’ve forgotten how
To their tactics I refuse to bow
I’ve paid good money and I want it back
It’s just logic that I so clearly lack
Things I Have Learned So Far Today
by Max’s P.U.
24 April 2006
Even a pull-top can cover can have a very sharp edge.
An opposable thumb really makes a difference when trying to do the darnedest things, such as opening a band-aid wrapper, hitting the spacebar on a keyboard, and even trying to slip in a casual game of Freecell or Minesweeper.
Blood can flow pretty darned fast, even uphill.
I’m not as ambidextrous as I thought.
JJ is more perceptive than he gets credit for being.
The sound of someone on one’s roof can resemble the sound of a delivery guy unloading a shipment outside the front door, but the intents are opposite, the former bent on taking, the latter on giving.
Much can happen before a day is half done.
JJ’s UnBirthday
21 April 2006
It should have been his birthday. Thought waves had been emanating in anticipation all month long. Plans had been laid. He’d awaken ready for the day and raring to go, but it was not to be.
Breakfast was the usual; no surprises there. The courtyard door was opened early, and he was not at all reluctant to make use of the opportunity, but alas, it was not to be.
He waited patiently by the garage door, though his quivering tail gave the lie to his seeming placidity as he eagerly awaited the morning treat. After awhile, he realized that people were moving more slowly than he, and he returned to the house, only to hear the garage door opening. Out he zoomed at full tilt – BANG! The garage door swung shut, nearly taking a whisker with it.
Startled, he retreated as rapidly as he had emerged. A moment later the door swung open again. Wary now, he stayed back. Next thing he knew, he was being picked up and kissed, reassured that he is loved. Gradually, his heartbeat slowed.
Eventually, he returned to the courtyard and sat watching the usual morning’s preparations. When it was time for the door to be locked, he trotted promptly inside without hesitation or invitation, to be rewarded by the assurance that he is a “Good Boy!” So why had the door slammed in his face earlier?
It had started out a chilly morning, but by midday the sun, frequently a late riser, had returned to burn off the early fog. In due time the courtyard door was reopened, and he enjoyed his in-and-out privileges. What he really wanted, though, he just couldn’t seem to get: A Game.
Several times he thought it might happen. After all, there had been promises of games all day long as part of his birthday celebration. At one point he was lifted up and allowed to check out the toy closet. His nose twitched as he vacillated between hope and dread, not quite sure what he was supposed to do, afraid that if he was too forward, he would lose it all. Sure enough, he was set back down without any real opportunity to enjoy any of his toys. What was the good of that?
How could his day have been so grossly miscalculated? What did “last month” mean, especially to an eager furry fellow? Max had had his day, without equivocation. He didn’t even get a shrimp dinner.
Poor Little Guy!
Sunshine on My Shoulders
6 April 2006
John Denver had it right:
Sunshine on my shoulders makes me smile
Seems like the rains
Have lasted quite awhile
But today the sun has returned to play
And I have only good things to say
The warmth on my fur
Is just what I’ve needed
Sunshine makes me purr
Clearly my needs have been heeded
I’m a happy cat sitting in the sunshine
Warming my fur, making me feel so fine.
Oh Happy Day
5 April 2006
Today the sun returned and, for the first time in a long time, I eagerly explored the courtyard confines. So much has changed. In addition to all the things P.U. has been doing about the place, the rains have resculpted the basic terrain, carving out new paths to explore, turning over previously unexpected lairs. My whiskers quivered with anticipation as I investigated each new change.
Slugs and snails have been exchanging houses, just as we did last summer. The earthworms were out in force, feasting on the freshly overturned soil. New grass shoots have sprung up across the recently ravaged green. The newly planted apple tree is already settling into its freshly raised mound and putting out infant leaves. Soon the baby spiders will be out and about, a nice change from those pesky ants that have moved indoors during the recent rains. Overhead is the half-familiar sound of baby birdsong, signaling the onset of a new season. Soon the moon will be full again. I can’t wait.
In Memoriam
4 April 2006
Tomorrow is the beginning of Ching Ming
Memorial season for the dead
Evidently it’s a Hawaii Chinese kind of thing
That’s been pounded into my head
When families and clans gather together
To visit our ancestors’ graves
One can always count on stormy weather
As we offer what the dead one craves
Things used to be straightforward and simple
Fireworks, paper money, jai, and a suckling pig
But now there are cars, condos, even a servant with a dimple
And for those who can afford it, the most elaborate rig
How can one keep up with so many dying and dead?
Yet one must go on living and trying to keep a cool head
The rains continue to fall here,
But I guess I should count my blessings,
For I hear that storms far and near
Are causing all kinds of distressings
People huddled in small closet spaces
Find their house ripped asunder
Surly winds leave no traces
Lightning strikes, leaving only thunder
Piles of rubble and debris abound in lieu of hope
As interminable rains wash dreams down a soaked mudslide
How are families in distress supposed to cope?
Trust in God and others to help take it all in stride
Hawaiian say Pele gives and takes back in return
Her gift of land is not something to spurn
But when she returns to claim what is hers
She'll not brook piteous demurs
When Nature has so generously provided
Only to find herself by greedy developers chided
We really have no right to complain
When she decides to reclaim her domain
Of course, that's easier to say than to accept
When it's my turn, there'll be a different tune, you bet
It's hard enough to live on just a prayer
Though maybe that'll make things easier if it's no longer there
We really don't need to go overseas
To make dead people and increase their needs
We've plenty of grief and strife right here
Might as well stay home and rail at what's near.
