Got Shot Today

Got Shot Today
8 March 2006

Got shot today
Thought I was headed out to play
Cruising down the hall to send P.U. on the way

Got caught up in a fond farewell embrace
Ended up being removed from my place
Squeezed into a small, dark, smelly space
Fear-bleached scents: more than a trace

Engine started, garage door rose
I could feel my claws curling into my toes
As I heard the garage door once again close
I could taste bile in my throat as it rose
But then fresh scents assailed my nose

There was something familiar about the road
We’d gone this way before, just like Mr. Toad
There’d been a long wait in a distant parking lot
Then we’d returned to our starting spot
JJ had been jealous because he’d been left behind
Reminding him when I got back wouldn’t be unkind
But that kind of trip this one was not meant to be
As all too soon for myself I would see

There was a young woman who weighed me in
Then a young man, not particularly thin
Who tried to stick a cold object up my ass
Till I hissed him; then he let it pass
I was very upset as I’m sure you’ll understand
Respect’s not an option; it’s what I demand
But P.U. was there to hold me until
My breathing slowed down and I lay still

A long time later another young man
This one a doctor with a bit of a tan
He spoke with assurance but moved carefully
Looked into my eyes and understood my plea
I didn’t appreciate the four shots he gave me
But soon enough all I knew was that I was groggy

On the ride home we sped ‘round a curve
Someone made P.U. have to swerve
I found myself rolling along on my side
But I wouldn’t have known if it’d been high tide

Eventually we made it back home in one piece
And I was set down in the kitchen for release
JJ didn’t dare ask questions when he saw my face
Though he did hiss me later when he wanted my space
But mostly he’s left me alone out of the way
Because, well, you know, I got shot today

After the Rain

After the Rain
7 March 2006

Rain rattled on the rooftop and beat on the window panes, then stopped. P.U. opened the glass door onto the courtyard after only a brief argument. The newly cut grass stubble has not yet put forth fresh shoots, but there remain a few untouched tips of old blades, still good for a light snack. I step carefully across the stubble, stopping to greet an earthworm here, a spider there, old friends from before the long annual cold spell.

Behind me I hear JJ checking out the rainwater, P.U. cautioning him against drinking it, as though we do not understand the concerns caused by Marco’s recent demise. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, there arises a once familiar sound: the twittering of newborn birds. JJ is aroused. Too bad he just got his legs run off during his morning exercise session… :->

P.U. leaves the doorway; I follow to supervise the writing of this blog. Too often of late I fear I have been misquoted, misrepresented, misunderstood. One must speak one’s own mind if one desires understanding.

Take the Oscars — no, seriously, take them. Take them off the air. Take away all commercial-interlaced programming that insists on blaring and subsiding, blaring and subsiding, as though eardrums are their personal toys to destroy as they see fit. Of course, that should not be taken as advocacy for exclusive dvd programming either, for even with the closed captioning on, somehow the television set continues to blast and subside, blast and subside. What do those movie makers think they’re doing anyway: imitating real life? How representational can they be when they feature extinct creatures and sentient machinery? Give me a nice, quiet film with lush scenery and low, slow dialogue or better yet, silent films. Now, that was filmmaking!

Who am I kidding? I’ve never seen a silent film – only one on mute. Now that’s what I’m talking about. How else is a fellow to get quality time with the family and still keep up with 22 hours of rest a day? I ask you . . .

Outside My Window

Outside My Window
6 March 2006

Outside my window there is a tree
Whose branches have been bare
I sit and watch it day after day
Looking for signs of life out there

Now as the new moon waxes strong
And rains beat upon the glass
I see the beginnings of little buds
And at its base fresh grass

My energy, too, is on the rise
I feel it in my joints and jaws
If only there were birds and mice
To catch between my paws

But, alas, there’s just the one
Who always serves my needs
Where is my little brother now,
JJ, of the many speeds?

M Is for March

M is for March, Melissa, and Max. Let the blustery winds blow where they will - we'll party hardy!

Out a Window

Out a Window
28 February 2006

Sitting in a coffee shop being ignored
Looked out the window cuz I was so bored
When much to my surprise I can’t believe what I see:
Leaves everywhere on each formerly naked tree
Except that little one over there with the faintest buzz
Like a pubescent teen’s first peach fuzz
Spring may not be fully sprung yet
But Nature ‘round here is all set

Im Not Spoiled

I’m Not Spoiled
27 February 2006

How dare they say so? I’m not spoiled
When I was a kitten I daily toiled
Day after tomorrow I’ll be six
And still my purr can give them kicks
Loving my human is a labor of love
You know very well what I’m speaking of
Why, just this morning I was sound asleep
When a sorry thought brought me out of the deep
A self-pitying complaint about a lack of greeting
As though every return required a new meeting
We hauled ourselves up, JJ and I
Hustled down the hallway to prevent a moist eye
He purred and I paced, played hard to get
That kind of pleasing hasn’t failed yet
Rain always brings ant trails but do I complain
Not a grumble say I, no I politely refrain
I’m patient, I am, as sure as you please
Even turning my head if I think that I’ll sneeze
So don’t tell me that you think I’m spoiled
Just because I require stroking when I choose to be coiled

Rainy days are here

Rainy days are here again
I hear those raindrops on my roof
Horses thunder across the turf
Animals subjugated; want further proof?
JJ’s taken my bed again
That chubby ill-trained muscular poof
Windswept sails skim the surf
Amphibians unrelated; I stand aloof
Water is not a cat’s best friend
And so this rhyme now must end

Olympians have wrapped up their show
After Americans had their usual row
Still our representatives show no shame
Content that an uncaring world knows their name
Whatever happened to national pride
And knowing when it was time to hide
Why does the media miss the real heroes
Focusing instead on fools’ woes
Or is it just the news that I read
Missing the good stuff because I forgot to weed
Trash needs dumping, that’s for sure
Only suckers bite at headlines that lure
With tales of wrongdoings instead of what’s right
Tales about those still fighting the good fight
Going about quietly each and every day
Knowing when to go and when to stay
People for whom praises don’t need to ring
People who prefer to cheerfully smile and sing
People whose actions show others how to be
With quiet, hard work, both at home and across the sea

26 February 2006

Life Cycle

Life Cycle
25 February 2006

The stillness of another sleepy afternoon was abruptly broken by the sound of a shovel striking stone in the soil on the edge of the courtyard. Voices debated the wisdom of transplanting the long-suffering lemon tree into a hole that might straddle a water pipe. More important to JJ and to me is the fact that the goldfish who preceded us in this family are buried at the base of the lemon tree under discussion. What happens to them if the tree is uprooted? Isn’t that a violation of their final resting place? Or, like Europeans, are their remains sufficiently returned to the earth after five years that they will not be disturbed? Life, death, the endless cycle… these things go round and round in my furry brain… I only wish I knew. I must be satisfied, I suppose, merely to ponder… this and other ineffable things in my world.

Vectors 2.0: More Aphorisms and Ten-Second Essays

Found this in P.U.'s mailbox, evidently downloaded a couple of years ago. Hope you enjoy these as much as I did. gmfe

Vectors 2.0: More Aphorisms and Ten-Second Essays

1. Already tomorrow and too late, still yesterday and too soon.

2. It was not sin that brought death, but the reverse. When God first appeared in Eden, we started, suddenly ashamed we had a secret no immortal could understand.

3. Mountains occur together.

4. I have no time, he snapped, as if he'd just asked himself for alms, and refused.

5. Birds of prey don't sing.

6. Happiness, like water, is always available, but so often it seems we'd prefer a different drink.

7. Travel reminds us we are always traveling.

8. Better to repeat the obvious than fear it.

9. Most of what looks like change is cliché perfecting itself.

10. How often feelings are circular. How embarrassing to appear embarrassed. How annoying to be annoyed.

11. I was 25, till I was 40, 40 till I was 50. But now my age is like the speedometer. If I don't pay attention it drifts, 60, 70, 80....

12. My illness cures me. By telling me at last what's wrong.

13. What a fool! I say of myself, with a vehemence and embarrassment that must mean I'd been thinking I wasn't.

14. The wrong blessing is no blessing.

15. They break down my body, my peace, alas, my principles: devils are personal, like genes. They are the one-room fire on the fourteenth floor that crowds watch, glad it's someone else. For large-scale catastrophe, you need a god: something everyone believes in.

16. In saying my work fails I flatter myself that I have imagined what it should have been.

17. Fire loves best what it cannot burn.

18. Do not be too quick to pull out your flaws. They endure dry seasons, thrive uncared for. They have deeper roots than you. They hold the slope in place.

19. The despair of the blank page: it is so full.

20. Ax built the house but sleeps in the shed.

21. The chorus fills what the soloist has emptied.

22. There is no misstep till you put your foot down.

23. It's not that no one notices his scheme, it's just that it would be more tedious to expose him than to go along. Which is more annoying: that he doesn't know this, or that he probably does?

24. I'm difficult to annoy, but the few who get the knack never seem to lose it.

25. His lie doesn't bother me as much as the truth he thinks he knows.

26. How sure we are that everyone's watching. How sure we are that no one sees.

27. We trust the embarrassed one. He believes the world is thinking of him more than it is. But at least he believes in the world.

28. Useful to see how you could love every person, every job, for an hour. Necessary to realize how short an hour is.

29. It's not a fact or feeling or even a flaw that's embarrassing but who I was pretending to be.

30. What scares me in suffering is the mechanical. The repetition compelled and wobbly, like a wheel with something wrong with it. The voice with something in it like bad brakes.

31. The Unembarrassable are like gods. We envy them; we hate them; they don't exist.

32. Know thyself. Ok, so?

33. Inside the head, art's not democratic. I wait a long time to be a writer good enough even for myself.

34. Institutions are the opposite of God: their periphery is everywhere, their center nowhere.

35. We can "have" ideas or feelings or experiences, but we cannot really tell which are ours, and they can be given away freely. But some things I need permission to tell. Our real privacy belongs to others.

36. Why do I complain, since I'd brush off solace? Some pains I just have to say, as if to confess faults before someone accused me of them.

37. Injustice: the god whose name we whisper when no other has remembered us.

38. First I have to learn to love myself, always makes me writhe. I'm the last person I want to hear I love you from, the last I want to say it to. The part of myself I like is the part that works, like a good tool. The part of myself I love is the part that loves you.

39. He Thought Positively till he became a euphemism for himself.

40. Some busy themselves to distract their passion, others because they cannot find it.

41. Why should they love your work? Do you?

42. When we suffer, we think we owe nothing. We imagine we suffer so we can imagine we owe nothing.

43. When all agree, so does the Devil.

44. Everything's text used to be scary: Look, I believe in less than you. Now it's just another comforting piety. You could be downloaded, Xeroxed, it says, you're immortal. And even better, No one's lived more than you, no one's wiser. Like the old song says, You are everything / And everything is you. A Great Book reading itself in the mirror.

45. Each year gets late earlier.

46. Wisdom was . . . knowing how to hold your head in the wind. But hold it that way always and you're a sermon, an ad, an idiot.

47. Light, beasts of the field, the firmament: easy. But not till the seventh day did God figure out Rest.

48. Billions of years, the dust hasn't settled. Water's still seeking its own level.

49. A car or stone becomes the exact temperature of the winter, but a man gets colder and colder.


James RichardsonThe Yale ReviewVolume 92, Number 2April 2004 Copyright © 2004 by Yale University All rights reserved. Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.

WarmUp

Warm-Up
22 February 2006

The weather’s warming
I like this trend
Though bugs are swarming
There’s more outdoor time to spend

That’s it; that’s all I’ve got to say
Why should I ramble on
When there’s sunshine in which to play?
I’m gone.

Smoked Out

Smoked Out
20 February 2006

Smokey days choking haze
P.U. has put me in a daze
Two days of burning
Mounds of wood
Orthanc here at home
Can’t possibly be good
Aunty Gracie charred chicken flesh
Aunty Lynette caught JJ in mesh
Round floaty things everywhere
Chewable ribbon instead of cat hair
So many strangers in this place
All putting their noses in my face
What’s a fellow to do but retreat
Till late at night for a midnight treat?
JJ loves the pork juice on the ground
I like the salmon and shrimp all around
But smoke does funny things to perfectly good food
Putting me into an awkward mood
Today’s so cold after all that burning
And now my tummy has started churning

Auwe

Cold Blew

Cold Blew
16 February 2006

This day was cold and quiet
But sundown has brought noise
JJ and I made a bet
About P.U.’s strange new toys
He bet that sitting in the sun
Would warm his frozen haunches
I figured when P. U. was done
There’d be shrimp for our hungry paunches
The sun waxed warm
Though the day was cold
There were no clouds to form
Pictures daring and bold
No foggy banks did I espy
To offer a warm blanket
Just crisp winds dry
Under clear blue sky with no rain in sight yet
When finally the sun started down
And still the car had not returned
JJ began to worry and frown
Though I was not concerned
Soon enough as I had foretold
The garage door was heard to open
In came P.U. bringing a bit of cold
And the scent of distant fen
The ocean, too, was in the air
And something else, I think
There was a hint of something fair
Mixed in with something stink
P.U. pulled out a hammer
Then came out a drill
The din was worse than the usual yammer
And then there was a spill
More blood than usually flows at night
Flowed from that damaged limb
The carpet changed red from white
The drill had just caught the rim
Now the house is quiet again
The flow of blood is staunched
Neither bettor can claim this night a win
Tomorrow a new campaign will be launched
For now it is enough to know
The house is warming up
And P.U.’s noise reaped what it did sow
Till the brim overflowed the cup

Love Is All a Round

Love Is All a Round
15 February 2006

You say love and I chime in
First you speak, then I begin
The words sound good as they come out
But I don’t understand what the fuss is all about
We say these words each and every day
We show each other love in every conceivable way
Why should one day be more special than the next?
Why labor to compose that particular text?
If I’m a day late and a dollar short,
Will our love be something you have to abort?
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow will still all be
The perfect time to share love between you and me

So say it again just like before
Each day promise to love me more
So what if it’s just more of the same verse?
It’s still sweet, even when terse
Your actions are what show me how much you care
They are the proof of the love that you bear
Don’t bother to spend a lot of money
Just show me that I’m still your special honey
Yesterday’s so over, don’t give it another thought
I don’t care what you have or haven’t bought
Get over here and let’s get down to cuddling
That’s what fixes everything when I feel I’m just muddling
You’re the one that I want, I have no doubt
When you’re not with me, I always pout
But hold me and love me and stroke me all night
When we’re in each other’s arms, everything is all right

JJ the Magnificent

JJ the Magnificent
February 13, 2006

He leaps, he bounds
He makes no sounds
This ruddy Abyssinian
He spins, he twirls
He wows the girls
No matter what room he’s in
He paces, he stalks
Oblivious of gawks
He’ll not be done in
But despite pounces and quick starts
He just scrapes the feathers’ parts
Till the game is called
Now he can catch his breath again

Musty Dusties

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! What a day! What a day!

P.U. has spent the last two days in the garage, and we got to go along! Yesterday all those musty dusty boxes got moved to the other side of the garage, opening up a great big space. That was scary, but the good news was that the boxes were neatly stacked into cool steps and covered with tarp. JJ scaled to the top and settled down to survey the changed landscape while I investigated under the covers. It was great.

Then today P.U. decided to do some more stuff. I was just resting on the bed after a busy night romping around the halls when I was rudely awakened by some loud banging. At first I thought a plane had finally crashed into the garage, but when I went to check things out, it was just P.U. putting a couple of the Gorilla shelves back together. When the noise stopped, the real fun began.

At first I didn't know what was going on, but then I realized what P.U. was doing, so I called JJ to come see. We had just settled comfortably on the boxes when P.U. started moving them again. Soon we would be trapped on an island with no way down. Naturally I moved, but JJ just sat there and kept watching. Finally he had to leap down from atop a stack of boxes nearly five feet high. I saw him hesitate, but he finally did it. You gotta admire him for his grit, if not for his foresight.

Eventually all the boxes were either stacked neatly on the shelves, against the wall, or emptied. By that time I could feel the temperature dropping, signalling the end of another day. I headed back into the house as P.U. finished cleaning up.

Zzzzz Time!

From P.U.'s Insane E-Mail

AMAZINGLY SIMPLE HOME REMEDIES

1. If you are choking on an ice cube, don't panic. Simply pour a cup of boiling water down your throat and presto. The blockage will be almost instantly removed.

2. Clumsy? Avoid cutting yourself while slicing vegetables by getting someone else to hold them while you chop away.

3. Avoid arguments with the little woman about lifting the toilet seat by simply using the sink.

4. For high blood pressure sufferers: simply cut yourself and bleed for a few minutes, thus reducing the pressure in your veins. Remember to use a timer.

5. A mouse trap, placed on top of your alarm clock, will prevent you from rolling over and going back to sleep after you hit the snooze button.

6. If you have a bad cough, take a large dose of laxatives, then you will be afraid to cough.

7. Have a bad toothache? Smash your thumb with a hammer and you will forget about the toothache.

Sometimes, we just need to remember what the rules of life really are:

You only need two tools: WD-40 and Duct Tape.
If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40.
If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape.

Also, remember:

Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

Never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.

If you woke up breathing, congratulations! You get another chance.

If you shop anywhere but Wal Mart, you are just showing off!

And finally, be really nice to your family and friends; you never know when you might need them to empty your bedpan.

Pride

Pride
6 February 2006 – Embarcadero, SF

Water cascades in many streams
From diverse sources, so it seems
Reminiscent of youthful dreams
But all from manmade constructs
Leaking at the seams

Tieless men in shirts of blue
With coats and pants of like dark hue
Primp and play before the spray
While a photographer waits;
He has all day

These overgrown boys who would be men
Can change the world with the stroke of a pen
Token females more girls than women
Stand smiling patiently nearby
Suppressing within any sign of a sigh

Seagulls overhead ignore the foolish folk below
When time’s victorious, then they’ll crow

Bird Sound

JJ has just marked the first bird sound of the new season. His bark is distinctive, a clear challenge to the feathered fowls that will soon be flocking back to mock my little brother and me for our earthbound status. 'Ware! War is coming! Fell deeds will be wrought upon any fowl fiend that dares to land or even buzz our courtyard.

Yes, been watching LotR again; how could you tell?

P.U. says those must be cherry blossoms burgeoning outside the windows and down the streets, flushing pinkly as they make their way up the barren tree trunks and stems. Would that I might see more!

What is with this archaic speech? P.U.: cut that out.

Spring, But Not Yet

Spring is coming but it's not here yet
Buds are breaking through
Soon it'll be time to put up a net
One more gardening task to do

Meanwhile the rain just keeps coming down
Soaking the ground and driving us crazy
Causing my human to continually frown
While we all sit indoors warm and lazy

Brief bit of sun today led to some planting
Steady rain tonight will wash down new leaves
Cause fragile seedlings to do precarious slanting
Damage not covered by maintenance fees

Television's the same with its continual din
Children watch mesmerized every night
Parents and educators rage they can't win
Against mass media in such an unfair fight

A New Avenue of Exploitation

A New Avenue of Exploitation
New York-bound puppies used as drug smugglers, feds say -- Newsday.com
February 1, 2006

People, especially movie makers, have been complaining about humans being used as couriers for smuggling drugs from one country to another. Now that that corridor is being more closely watched, black market purveyors have found another method: the intestines of animals. Thus far only Labrador retriever puppies have been discovered in this enterprise, but who is to say that there are not other animals being forced into this vile trade as well? If an unscrupulous veterinarian is willing to cut up a purebred puppy, why not a fine feline as well? Fortunately, unlike JJ, I am of feral ancestry, protected by my lowly birth. One cannot help but note the irony that people of the lowest echelons and animals of the highest breeding should be so similarly exploited. What does that say about the values of those involved in this enterprise?

Mocha

(Another human interjection)
Mocha
January 28, 2006

I met Mocha this morning. She’s a sweet, rolypoly bulldog who was waddling through the greensward past my place. Her mission was clear: she was taking her long, tall, lean, silver-haired human of amiable disposition for a daily constitutional. He called her pampered; I assured him that that was only right, fitting, and proper. We smiled and parted company.

Upon my return to the house, I was promptly accosted and thoroughly sniffed by not one but two inquiring muzzles. Curiosity had been aroused. Fortunately, there was no overt disapproval, as sometimes happens when I encounter other four-legged creatures upon my walks. Mocha, then, is at least contingently on the approved list. It is good to have family approval of new acquaintances.

Skeletal Regrowth

Skeletal Regrowth
January 26, 2006

Winter is a time of dearth
A time to humker down around a hearth
But January brings fresh hope
As buds on trees begin to grope
Their way up out of close-shut sprigs
And birds drift back to begin Spring jigs
The barren bones that have lined the streets
Are filling in spaces, exciting heartbeats
There’s a promise on the still-barren air
That emptiness won’t always be there
Barbecue grills are on display in stores again
And ink is flowing more easily in the pen
Traffic is snarled from new construction
Meant to repair the ravages of winter destruction
True, they’re just buds on barren limbs now
But soon, very soon the world will be . . .WOW!

Subject Fw MONEY

Subject: Fw: MONEY


       Verily I say unto ye..........        Money



       It can buy a house



       But not a home



       It can buy a clock



       But not time



       It can buy you a position



       But not respect



       It can buy you a bed



       But not sleep



       It can buy you a book



       But not knowledge



       It can buy you medicine



       But not health



       It can buy you blood



       But not life



       So you see money isn't everything



       And it often causes pain and suffering



       I tell you this because I am your friend



       And as your friend I want to



       Take away your pain and suffering!!



       So

       Send me all your money



       And I will suffer for you!



       Cash only please!

       After all, what are friends for, huh??



       I HOPE THIS MADE YOU SMILE!!!

       LAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE!

JJ

JJ won't play - he's waited and waited, and now it's too late;
He still dreams as he waits by the gate,
But his ship has sailed, he's moved on with his life;
Now he dreams of life without strife
 
Max has arrived, he's ready and waiting
This boy wants loving and for him there's no sating
Today is yesterday's tomorrow
Let there be no sorrow
Death comes to us all — no telling how
Might as well live each day in the now
 
JJ just got sick
But covered it quick
With a stack of magazines
Featuring fantasy teens
So Max has to go down
While PU cleans up after the clown

Down by the Sea

Down by the Sea
January 22, 2006

The sea, the sea, how I long to see the sea
Where waves roll and foam tumbles
Along the shore people stroll and dogs gambol,
Boats bob at anchor and surf rumbles
Sellers throng to hawk their wares
The novice bargain seeker timidly mumbles
But when sunny skies give way to dark clouds
The power of Nature the most arrogant humbles
Then lively crab claws wave in despair
To the beloved depths just over there
Just beyond reach lies their once happy home
Just out of reach beneath roiling foam
As wary humans batten down hatches
Before stormy skies fill in those ominous patches

Morning Mist

Morning Mist
January 20, 2006

This morning a mist lay on the golf course
Hugging the ground knee-high
Golfers and duffers alike feared the terrible force
Of the winter storm just off-shore nearby
And so the links lay open wide
Without a soul in sight
While boisterous souls lined up inside
Using liquid to fend off fright
Now that the sun has burned off the mist
The tale they tell has a different twist
There’s many a story of a magnificent save
From desert’s edge to the mouth of a cave
But truth to tell there’s scarcely a soul
Willing to brave foul weather in pursuit of a goal

Whats Left to Say

What’s Left to Say?
A Sonnet to Bygone Summer
January 20, 2006

My human has taken my voice away,
And left me here with my brother;
I have many a fake mouse with which to play
But since they’re not real, why bother?

The sun that first warmed
Our new house on the Bay,
Where high hopes last summer were formed,
Has cooled considerably, I must say.

The ground is soaked with floating stuff:
There are bugs and beetles and debris galore,
Some of it’s soil, some weeds once so tough,
All I know is cleanup will be quite a chore.

But the promise of newness that now seems so dead
Can’t really be gone; It’s still in my head.

Semi-Sacrilegeous E-Mail from My Human

A new priest at his first mass was so nervous he could hardly speak. After mass he asked the monsignor how he had done.

The monsignor replied, " When I am worried about getting nervous on
the pulpit, I put a glass of vodka next to the water glass. If I start to get nervous, I take a sip."

So next Sunday he took the monsignor's advice. At the beginning of the sermon, he got nervous and took a drink. He proceeded to talk up a storm.

Upon his return to his office after the mass, he found the following note on the door:

1) Sip the vodka, don't gulp.

2) There are 10 commandments, not 12.

3) There are 12 disciples, not 10.

4) Jesus was consecrated, not constipated.

5) Jacob wagered his donkey, he did not bet his ass.

6) We do not refer to Jesus Christ as the late J.C.

7) The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not referred to as Daddy,
Junior and the spook.

8) David slew Goliath, he did not kick the shit out of him.

9) When David was hit by a rock and was knocked off his donkey, don't say he was stoned off his ass.

10)We do not refer to the cross as the "Big T."

11)When Jesus broke the bread at the last supper he said, "take this and eat it for it is my body." He did not say " Eat me" .

12)The Virgin Mary is not called " Mary with the Cherry,.

13)The recommended grace before a meal is not: Rub-A-Dub-Dub thanks
for the grub, Yeah God.

14)Next Sunday there will be a taffy pulling contest at St.Peter's
not a peter pulling contest at St. Taffy's.

Sun and Rain

Sun and Rain
January 18, 2006

This day that promised to be so bright
Ended up anything but —
Each time I chanced a trip outside,
I got wet; that isn’t right.

Pink hibiscus lies crumpled and wet
Glistening in the bright sunlight
But whenever I venture out to check
The rains fall again and I start back in fright.

No, fright’s not the right word
For that connotes danger
And everyone knows
I’m more fearless than a ranger.

No, that’s not exactly true either . . .
I’m easily startled (because I’m so alert)
My senses are attuned to the slightest changes
In order to avert unnecessary hurt.

Back to the subject at hand for today
The sun teased me mercilessly amidst dark clouds
Inviting me out to play
Only to retreat behind ominous shrouds.

Hawaii people call it liquid sunshine
All I know is I want what’s mine
Give me back my courtyard and grass
Bring back my sunshine and let this rain pass.

Interior Flooding

Interior Flooding
(January 7, 2006 — 5:23 p.m., PST)

The floods rose again today
Soap floated by every which way
JJ thought it would be fun to play
But our other human chased him away

The sink offered another way to drink
But that was off-limits, too, I think
Which is fine, since soon a stink
Filled the kitchen and made me blink

Where can a fellow go for quiet
When all the world is filled with riot
If you’re selling, I’ll buy it
Or settle for a fish, if you’ll fry it

Where is my human, so tall and warm
So able to keep a fellow from harm
My human’s absence has left me forlorn
Filled me with a loneliness not to be borne

Maybe I will drink from that putrid sink
Make myself sick and puke up pink
Or maybe I’ll just be my nekko self
And pout quietly here up on this high shelf

Morning Came Early

Morning came early today, but breakfast didn't; what's up with that?

More suitcases are being piled by the main (back) door. That would be okay, since it signals a possible end of the invasion, but my human's bags have joined the growing pile, and I am not happy.

JJ has gotten special lovings, both last night and this morning; what's up with that?

I don't want to say goodbye, but I don't want to miss my opp either... Must prowl. Constant vigilance!

Suitcases Again

The suitcases are out
But I'm not gonna pout
I'll just lie here
On the dryer
So the bedroom door can't be closed
Without the question having been posed
As to where Max is
Oops! That idea's a fizz
The door just shut

Ownership

To whom does my human belong? To me or to that stranger who has invaded our abode? Since when do I rate merely perfunctory loving before being encouraged to dismount and distance myself? I thought we had settled the issue of work priorities long ago: I come first. When will this nonsense about "other duty" end? I'll give my human one more day... if things don't change, I'll just have to put my paw down. More firmly. 'Nuff said.

Season's Greetings

Max, JJ, and family wish for you and yours a cheery holiday season. In this new year, may you obtain all that you require, receive all that you desire, and enjoy moments of serendipity through every season.

Invasion

The human's back
With a pack
Of strangers in tow

Large house is small
People clutter the hall
I want them to go

Doors keep closing
I'm just supposing
To keep us in or out

But we are too keen
To be seen or unseen
When we want to prowl about

This year is ending
Soon will be sending
The strangers away

I only wish
(Along with fish)
The human would stay

Abandoned Again

I'll be abandoned to an aunt again for a time period I have been unable to clarify, but I hope to post occasionally. Please be patient if I don't post much for the next half month.

Mensa Invitational

Mensa Invitational

As do so many these days, I receive my fair share of forwarded jokes and other materials endlessly circulating the Internet. Since my last reposting was well-received, I would like to share another that has tickled me today:

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners. Read them carefully.  Each is an artificial word with only one letter altered to form a real word.  Some are terrifically innovative:


1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to      start with.


2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.


3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating.     The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.


4. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.


5. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.


6. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.


7. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.


8. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.


9 Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)


10 Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.


11. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.


12. Glibido: All talk and no action.


13. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.


14. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.


15. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.


16. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.


And the pick of the lot:


17. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an ass.

Thursday

What a day! I'm exhausted and freezing, so I shall recount more tomorrow.

These days are so cold

These days are so cold
This is getting old
My human is always ready to flee
Instead of staying home to warm me
The bedding’s been washed clean
Of my smell; why are you so mean?

Tookie’s been taken
To the place where they’re bakin’
But instead of being fried
They put a needle in his hide
Now he’s at peace
Let the protesting cease
Survivors and advocates alike
All of you just take a hike
There’s never one right answer anymore
There’s just another person to make sore
Everybody just needs to chill
Find somewhere else to turn your will
There’s plenty enough killing and dying at home and abroad
To give folks reason to push each other and prod
Facts don’t seem to matter to those who won’t hear
Past or future, it’s all too near
Just hold onto your pants
And give peace a chance

Abandonment

Abandonment:

It’s all about being left alone. Sure, there are promises made by the light of day, promises of imminent return, but where is the trust? Where is the fulfillment of all these promises? Where is the human?

Day after day we are bade adieu with the promise of return. Night after night we watch the sun set, twilight flee, and darkness fall. Then, long after light and heat have left for the day, the lock rattles. JJ still runs; not I. I have no tolerance for such infidelity. Safe and snug in this giant bed, I remain warm and undisturbed, except for the futile search for my head or tail. I do not accept these professions of regret, these excuses for tardiness.

True, there was a time when I was enticed out of my warm bed by the rattle of paper and the fascinating foreign scents that accompanied my human’s returns, but no more. Things come in, things go out, but I remain. The view has changed; bleakness is pervading the landscape. Leaves are falling, birds have flown, trucks are heard but no longer seen. The only positive change is that delivery men seem more prevalent of late, and their mysterious bundles come in a variety of sizes. I particularly enjoy the clumsy one that often fumbles, trips, and swears.

Ah, I feel a lightening of my gloom. Perhaps things are not so bad. After all, my human does come home each night, if late. It is not as bad as the year I was left alone. OK: perhaps not total abandonment after all… I do like my food and toys, after all…

Deep Thoughts For Those Who Take Life Too Seriously

Deep Thoughts For Those Who Take Life Too Seriously 
  
1. Save the whales. Collect the whole set. 
 
2. A day without sunshine is like..........night. 
 
3. On the other hand, you have different fingers. 
 
4. 42.7 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot. 
 
5. 99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name. 
 
6. Remember, half the people you know are below average. 
 
7. He who laughs last thinks slowest. 
 
8. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm. 
 
9. The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese in the trap. 
 
10. Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have. 
 
11. A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory. 
 
12. Change is inevitable, except from vending machines. 
 
13. If you think nobody cares, try missing a couple of payments. 
 
14. How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand. 
 
15. OK, so what's the speed of dark? 
 
16. When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane. 
 
17. Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now. 
 
18. Every one has a photographic memory. Some just don't have film. 

19. How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges? 

20. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines. 
 
21. What happens if you get scared half to death twice? 

22. "I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder." 

23. Why do psychics have to ask you for your name? 
 
24. Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened. 
 
25. Just remember - if the world didn't suck, we would all fall off. 

26. Light travels faster than sound. That is why some people appear bright......... until you hear them speak.  
 
27. Life isn't like a box of chocolates.... it's more like a jar of jalapenos. What you do today, might burn your butt tomorrow.

Tough Day

Hot and cold blow the winds from door and vent
I cannot resolve this rising discontent
My heart beats fast my vision blurs
Between my ears a dim memory stirs
What was it that mouse long ago said
That I should remember long after it was dead?
Something about time and turns and such
More than that I cannot remember much
Though I have not eaten more than I should
My stomach does not feel so very good
Hairball attacks that toss me and turn me
Test my will but I won’t let them see
Any sign of weakness means I’m not a good boy
And I won’t let JJ rise above being a mere toy
Sure I can be petty but I’m above that
Do you think it could’ve been that half-eaten rat?
I cannot I will not I must not give in
I am as tough as I’ve ever been . . .

Heart Hearth

Outside it’s cold but here in your arms
I lay my head on your chest that warms
Here’s where first I curled right up
Against your coat as cozy as a cup
And still you let me stay with you
Lest from this cold I should turn blue
There is no warmer safer place
Then with my ears tucked beneath your face

Dibs

Dibs

I’ve got dibs.

My human roams
But I’ve got dibs.

My human moans
But I’ve got dibs.

The kitty eater was on the loose today
And consolation seemed far away
But I’ve got dibs.

My human tried to slip out
What’s that about?
I’ve got dibs.

Sit down
Don’t frown
I’ve got dibs.

Clarify

See all the leaves lying around, and the sky is grey
The wind blows hard, clearing the cobwebs away
This is the time of year when thoughts crystalize
And fancy holds sway as the daylight dies

My potential is vast
But that's all in the past
JJ's the one who's bounding around
While I continue to emulate a mound

It's time I got up and off of the bed
Got myself to the kitchen and got fed
Today I'm bouncing and chasing and fresh
For my mind is clear of its cobwebby mesh

Distracted

Distracted

My human, though returned from place(s) unknown, is clearly distracted. Meals come later than of old, litter ripens, and my blog is neglected. Only the loving remains. Still, as long as that remains, what else of life need I? Though the winds pick up and the skies are cast down, my human’s loving keeps me warm.

Okay, enough of that: why is my food dish still empty and my water all over the floor?

Home

Home

My parental unit’s home:
I wish I could roam . . .
But I just dig in loam
Then wait for a finger comb
Or sniff that hairy dome
Fresh with shampooed foam

Aunty L was very nice:
She liked to toss me fresh new mice
And help JJ to scratch his lice
Even when she was eating rice
Or fixing up meat with a special spice
While the P.U. was playing with dice

Now that the P.U.’s back to stay
We can stay up all night and play
Or until the P.U. says nay
To the ruckus that arises when we make hay
After having slept contentedly all day
And ridden shoulders though they sway

Time to go to sleep I see
Just the P.U. and JJ and me

Notice

To those of you checking in on how I’m doing, know that JJ and I have been abandoned by our human for the next several days but will be lovingly cared for by Aunty L. Hope to blog to you again soon. GM-FE

I needed to be knead

I needed to be kneaded
And you kneaded me

You need to be needed
And I do need you

Let JJ have his day
But the nights belong to you and me

Boom

I lay in your arms purring

Boom

I’d stay in your arms all night

Boom

But the ground rises up and my paws stretch out

Boom

I’m off to do some serenading

Wet Nose

Wet Nose

Wet nose from wet clothes
Where will I sleep tonight?
Wet toes fled wet hose
Where will you keep me tonight?
Sweet sleep long and deep
I want to sleep with you tonight.

That Itch

Things that make me itch
Also make my nose twitch
When my nose is wet
Well, that's worse yet
Leave me in the dark
And I'll leave you my mark
So what'll it be?
Keep me company or set me free

Dust Mites

Dust mites
Make me sneeze
So open the screen
Please
For if I scratch
But no one opens the latch
I'll just have to sit in the halls
And lick my balls

What to Eat

When there's nothing else to eat, there's always one's pride. . . and one's words. . .

Everyone Needs To Be Kneaded

Everyone Needs To Be Kneaded

This has been a blissful weekend. JJ and I have enjoyed our occasional excursions into the dark, web-filled garage with its musty odors and plethora of insect eggs. Then, when we have been chased back indoors, we have each of us been treated in turn to the bliss of being kneaded. . . . and then, like a well-wrought dough, allowed to rest until it is time to be kneaded again. Ah, the ecstasy!

(Just thought I’d share; you can keep your cozy firelit logs that let off black smoke.) ;->

The Laundry Room

The Laundry Room

The laundry room is my new lair
For my favorite blanket is now there

A single leap, and then a bound
That’s where unbroken sleep can be found

JJ’s too little to find his way
So I sleep in peace all day

But last night he finally found me out,
Bided his time after following me about

And when I slipped down for a bite to eat
Up he popped and stole my new retreat

No worries, though, for I simply returned
To where the home fires always burn

I nestled down into my favorite spot
And spent the night cozily hot

This morning my human slipped out for a ride
So I spent the time singing to the wall on my side

The weather’s cooled and the rain has fallen
My energy’s up; I hear the Outdoors callin’

Somewhere out there beyond the door
Life awaits, and so much more!

CPR Cat Paw Rubbing

CPR = Cat Paw Rubbings

It’s the most important maneuver a feline can perform, essential for daily well-being and proper maintenance of designated humans.

The Purpose of a Comma

The purpose of a comma is to indicate a pause, and the purpose of paws is to bind together independent claws.

Lonesome

Lonesome

So many days
Locked in this house
No one to bother
Except my toy mouse

JJ just sleeps
In the sun all day
When night falls
He’s the one gets to play

That Aunty Carol
Thinks he’s so great
But she’s the reason
They’re always out so late

She tried to catch me
To give me “a ride”
But I’m too quick for her
I just zip and hide

She smells of perfumes
And garlic to boot
She’s a pretty lady
But I don’t give a hoot

This house is mine
And I’ll do as I please
So keep your perfume
And don’t make me sneeze

I want my human
Around on demand
Life should be
By my command

These sunny days
Are for lazing about
All too soon
It’ll be too cold to go out

So let me be
Don’t set me free
Can’t you see
My life suits me to a “T”

At Last

I've finally set up a separate page for my erstwhile human. I'm tired of being maligned, of being credited with rash, brash, partisan statements on subjects about which no self-respecting feline would have an opinion. What has politics to do with where my next meal is or when it will be served? What do I care about socio-political issues or the welfare of this or any nation's economy? It's time I took back my own page, and that is what I'm doing. Now I'm going back to sleep.

This aerobed sure is comfy, if somewhat lower than the bed to which I have become accustomed. Still, this is where my bedding is, so this is where I'll sleep. Aunty Carol will just have to fit herself in when she gets back.

What a Week

What a Week

JJ and I have been locked up home alone a lot this week. We wonder what we’ve done to deserve such abandoning, but let me start at the beginning:

Tuesday morning started out like so many others. Our human left the house while it was still dark out, but we have learned not to worry, as our P.U. (parental unit) usually returns within a couple of hours; that was not the case on Tuesday. That day P.U. did not return until it was once again dark. By that time, even I had begun to worry. You may rest assured that I sniffed all garments and bags thoroughly that night, and this is what I have deduced —

Tuesday morning P.U. went down to the Bay. There remains a distinct tang of salt water spray that tells me so. I know it was an overcast day, but the wind must have been whipping up small swells during the crossing. There were flocks of birds skimming the water, occasionally dipping and diving for their breakfast. These were not the same kinds of birds that fly over my courtyard and occasionally mock us, though. These were larger, wilder birds. Perhaps it is better that we were not there to see them…

P.U. spent time tramping around downtown San Francisco, stopping occasionally to munch and watch as other people intent on their various pursuits hustled by. There were planes overhead, trains both above and below ground, trolleys and trams, and automobiles of all kinds. Their collective stench remains entrapped in P.U.’s cuffs. Odors suggest that P.U. may have ridden on several different vehicles during the course of the day while traipsing about the City.

Then there were the girls. I distinctly smelled girls; JJ concurs. P.U. was with female felines! Worse, there were female feline hairs on P.U.’s clothes and backpack. I fear the infidelity, for I have smelled these particular felines before.

There were dogs of various sizes as well. P.U. seems to have been getting around quite a bit without us. I can understand leaving JJ behind, but I clearly enjoyed the ride I went on last week, so why was I not invited along this time?

And there was food… many different kinds of food… from three different parts of the City… I miss the Fog City!

Back here in our new enclave I sat and sweated, trapped within the confines of our admittedly larger, longer, more luxurious new abode. It’s hot here, a good 5 degrees warmer than in our old apartment, 10 when the doors and windows are locked shut. Things actually got quite desperate before P.U. returned, as JJ responded to the stress by gobbling all the food, then regurgitating it. Ditto on the water.

When P.U. finally returned, our human was too exhausted to do more than kiss each of us impartially before crashing.

Wednesday was spent in recovery, but Thursday seemed like more of the same. Our human left us while it was still dark out, stayed out til midday, returned just long enough to stink up the house with the usual smells of lunch, then disappeared again, not returning until nearly dark. Where is our human going? What is going on? This had better not keep happening, or I will . . . I will . . . I will . . . what?

What’s this about Aunty Carol coming again? I may not be blogging for awhile…

Today

Today

I’m blushing over my gushing.

‘Nuff said.

Twilight

Twilight

This morning my claws were clipped
As the Hunter’s Moon dipped
Below the western horizon

So the nation’s fangs
Need to cease their bangs
Before the event horizon

Am I too obscure
In my recommended cure
For what ails our society?

I simply yearn for a piece of peace
Surcease from war within my life’s lease
A rest from excess piety
A modicum of old-fashioned propriety

A chance to live
A chance to give
A time to dance
With my human perchance

Without fear
Of what we’ll hear
Or see too late in the skies
As that final bomb flies

Or worse yet
I’d rather not bet
On the wisdom of warriors and wannabes

Who dare to claim
Things in my name
But only act for themselves to please

Oh just let me purr
While my human strokes my fur
And afternoon sunlight through a grey cloud slants

Pawdicure

Pawdicure

It’s past time for my pawdicure
So my claws can be clean and pure
The moon has filled and is passing now
The furniture is shredded (don’t ask me how)
I’m just a simple fellow you see
Wanting my paws to be germ-free
My human complains of pokes and scratches
But it’s not my fault when an errant claw catches
I try to file my claws down each week
And wipe my nose regularly so as not to streak
But the weather is changing and I’m just a cat
So my nose runs and I’m storing winter fat
My claws continue to grow as they will
And keeping them honed is a challenging skill
I don’t want to hurt anyone that I love
But everything around here is up above
So I must leap in order to reach
And claw what I can though I’m not a leech
Odd that my claws make me sound like a politician
For my heart is gold and I don’t just hang about the kitchen

And now . . . it’s time for a deep
. . . s-l-e-e-p - - -

Misplaced Women in Positions of Power

Misplaced Women in Positions of Power

Twas an inept woman looking for a lost nut
That cut JJ open across his gut
Now another misguided woman wants a seat
So she can force life as though it’s a treat
Claims murder is wrong but hard knocks are okay
A forced life of injustice is the natural way
There’s only one way to see the truth
And that’s her way, forsooth
Will the taking of life for justice’s sake
Still be murder or just icing on the cake
Of the legal system’s inherent biases
Against race and class, like eczema and psoriasis?
(Sometimes reaching for a rhyme
Should take a little more time…)

Walking is wonderful, so I'm told

Walking is wonderful exercise, so I’ve been told
Though on the truth of that I’m not entirely sold
My paws are so tender as you surely must know
For I’ve only the carpet across which to go
Oh, sometimes I get to stroll through some grass
Or settle down in the dirt under the fern pass
But even when I pass from carpet to concrete
I carefully avoid the straw mat with my feet
For it has proved pokey, as can clearly be seen,
Put there by someone unutterably mean
No problem, though, for I simply sidestep it
Though there JJ’s been known of occasion to sit
Today we raced round the house, JJ and I
Hot in pursuit of an encroaching fly
I leapt in the air with grace and ease
Then landed gently, if you please
But my paws are so tender from lifelong disuse
That simple walking is surely abuse

Pumpkin Festival 10-17-05

Pumpkins stretch across the land
From mountain across field to ocean’s sand
People pour in from every place
Dressed all in orange though of every race
The air is redolent of freshly grilled meats
While passersby flaunt all kinds of sweets
Corn on the cob grilled up its husk
Sweetens the air from dawn until dusk
Sweet cider is just one kind of brew
That foams over glass with this boisterous crew
Children learn so many things this way
From carving and drawing to gluttony’s sway
Lanterns give way to pie eating contests
As the littlest among us snuggle down in mobile nests
Horses walk past us on the slow crawl home
While ocean swallows sun under God-painted dome
The Harvest Moon’s full on this clear warm night
As we trundle on home without any more fight
It’s always quite a time at the festival each year
From the arts and crafts to the food and the beer

Lost in a bottomless

Lost in a bottomless chasm of avoidance
Dancing and twirling amidst empty dreams
I sleep the slumber of the sated
And chase endless fields of mice, so it seems

JJ is willing, a perfect companion
To wrestle or play as occasion demands
Except when his feather or ribbon emerges
Summoning him in human hands

Games that are real are for watching, not playing
Sitting on sidelines one learns so much more
Than making a fool of oneself in public places
And revealing what’s hidden at one’s very core

Eaters Three

A fickle eater am I, you see
For so many foods just don’t suit me
Milk and cheese and beef and pork
Should stay safely behind a cork
Even chicken that’s been laced with herbs
Is strictly for felines who live in the burbs
Give me a clean bird boiled, roasted, or steamed,
That has had its innards completely reamed
Or what’s really nice are a dozen succulent shrimp
Shelled and deveined, but be sure not to scrimp
Chicken and shrimp are the only safe fare
For this feline’s tender tummy to bear.

Now JJ is not such a fussy boy
He’s a feline disposal and our human’s toy
If it’s mooed or oinked or bleated or grunted
Then it’s meat that is sure not to be shunted
I’ve even seen him eat yogurt and cheese
If it’s any kind of dairy it’s sure to please
And even if it’s just leftover suet
You just know he’ll be willing to get right to it
The only things I’ve seen him pass up
Are vegetables and fruits, on those he’ll not sup
Lately he’s even considered avocado
Even he’s not that foolish though
Things that are red, yellow, orange, or green
Are not meant to be eaten but just to be seen.

Then there’s our human who’s portion control
Was briefly tight, but whose appetite is now on a roll
Regardless of color it all seems to be good
Progress has halted; we’re back where we once stood
Reason and logic have fled in the night
As work brings hunger into the light
How can one subsist on the portions ordained
How can an appetite be reined
When the stomach gnaws and growls with frequency and ease
And only larger portions will that nagging appease

The More Things Change

The more things change, the more they remain the same: trite but evidently still true.

What are the most maligned and undervalued aspects of education? At a guess I would have to say fine arts and vocational training. They receive the least respect, the fewest accolades, and the quickest funding cuts, despite persistent evidence supporting their fundamental value to all other aspects of education.

Now we are riding yet another wave of technological innovation with a purely computer-oriented generation of children surging forward, as each wave is wont to do. Joining them are the third and fourth waves of the general populace who have not been on the cutting edge of the technological and information revolution/evolution. Now what software applications are most accessible to these people? What value do they see in these formerly formidable tools? Are not the music, graphics, and e-mail programs the most used? Are not the current entry level computers billed as media center computers? Are not the most popular selling books those that guide people in “how to” do things and deal with “issues”?

Academics have long been geared to train leaders, dreamers, and manipulators of society through its political, economic, and military arms. If, however, schools are to target the masses, and the masses have clearly indicated their desire for improved communication and expression through pictures and sounds, even more than through words, should not schools respond to such desires and needs? And as has been true throughout societal existence, the use of machines requires building and maintaining; ergo, training for such tasks.

How practical should schools be? Should all schools be all things to all people? Is that even possible? Is it practical for one government to determine one policy for all situations? Are we a G.I. (general issue) society wherein one size really can fit all?

There was a time when some schools were specifically geared to prepare leaders of government, others to prepare leaders of industry, still others to prepare coworkers in various fields. Those who have desired to seek their own paths have been free to do so after a minimum of core skill training common to all. Now there seems to be an increasing movement to homogenize the learning experience. Against this is the ongoing desire by some parents not to allow their offspring to be less than superior, a much harder goal when swimming upstream against the great leveling that is the contemporary interpretation of universal equality. This is, of course, juxtaposed against the bleaker view of some parents (shared by too many students) that there is no opportunity within the current educational and societal systems for upward mobility or even for basic euphemistic water treading.

It’s well past time to sing another tune, to paint a different picture, to sculpt new models for changing times, to finally give credit and honor where it is due to the current generation of achievers, not just to decaying older systems. It is time to do away with decayed inherited honors, time to see and to acknowledge, and to pay proper respect to those forging new paths and smoothing those ways for those who must follow… if they can.

Marketing Freebies

Marketing Freebies

In the United States culture and fashion have long been shaped by economic impulses and ventures. Post-WWII America watched three network television channels, broadcast free over the air to pricey television sets of assorted sizes. Families aspired to the ownership of television consoles, first in black and white, then to those that were able to receive and decipher color images. Such a significant investment of economic resources and living space necessitated adequate usage to justify the expense. Persistent viewing, in turn, provided a ready and willing audience for marketing gambits. New products were introduced and demonstrated to a receptive audience. For those not so eager to make further investments in previously unneeded goods, incentives were offered. There were stamps to be collected that could, in turn, be converted into the acquisition of otherwise indulgent purchases such as willow-patterned plates, gold-rimmed plates, corningware, silverware, more cups than could be accommodated by cupboards that had once seemed overwhelmingly generous, figurines, sporting goods, clock radios, kitchen appliances, luggage for trips previously uncontemplated, and even toys with which to gain the favor of envious offspring. The first homogenized American generation grew up with a common language, furnishings, and entertainment memories sprinkled with catchy commercial tunes and characters. Madison Avenue marketing executives were ecstatic at the overwhelming success of television and radio marketing.

The next generation of Americans was of necessity more savvy to mass media marketing than their predecessors had been. These were consumers who had been inundated by marketing techniques from the womb, and they were not as susceptible to “cute and catchy” for as long as their parents had been. Of course, they were being brought up by the parents who had watched those early ads, and who were now very much engaged with the pursuit of more money that would allow them to continue their youthful consumer pursuits, as well as being able to provide such luxuries for their children, whom they were determined would not suffer the indignation of having identical housewares and other belongings as their stamp-collecting neighbors, classmates, and friends. This business-oriented work ethic didn’t leave much time for the domestic engineering so ingrained in previous generations. The lack left a new marketing opening for Madison Avenue, and the fast food industry took over where the textile industries had led. After all, everyone must eat, mustn’t they? Enter the overweight American.

Obesity has been heralded as the latest epidemic to plague Americans, and the fast food industry has taken the brunt of the blame for its widespread nature. Necessity, it seems, exonerates or at least excuses the marketing industry for its role in the popularizing of fast food consumption. Blame must be assigned, but not to the consumer and certainly not to the marketer. After all, marketers are merely the messengers, and the messenger should not be killed for the message, right?

Now the innocent messenger brings word that there are yet other targets at which to throw money: the health and fitness industries. As times have changed, so have the media by which the word comes: the World Wide Web and the music industry have joined the television, radio, and entertainment industries in spreading the good word that there are things to buy and homogenizing freebies to be had with them. The more things change, the more familiar they look: Today’s families continue to aspire to higher quality images broadcast to larger screens with superior audio capabilities and an ever-increasing number of components. The next generation is more tech savvy than the previous, which simply means that it is more susceptible to newer, more invasive and pervasive avenues of persuasion that promise freedom in exchange for enslavement to the new tools/toys that in turn continue to meld societies into the global village that may or may not be such a good idea after all . . .

October 5, 2005

Music to Ignore and Other Buffers in Life

Music to Ignore and Other Buffers in Life
revised October 5, 2005

     I’ve long thought that I like to listen to music as much as the next person, though I rarely know the names of the songs I’ve heard, whether over the radio, on television, or in films I’ve seen.  What I’m noticing anew, however, is that once the music starts, my mind wanders off down whatever path invites at the moment.  By the time the music stops, my thoughts have covered much ground and it is only with great effort that I can recall all the byways down which my mind has meandered.  What I do know for a certainty is that I cannot tell you what music has been dinning my ears, for I have been otherwhere.  Music, then, is for me merely a buffer from the world, more a threshold across which lie the paths of mental exploration that I crave than a pleasure in and of itself.  True, sometimes socially relevant lyrics impinge themselves on my consciousness, but such words merely lead to other thoughts unrelated to the rhythms and tunes that filter through my subconscious.
     This realization has led me to consider other potential buffers in my life.  What I must conclude is that I have so many that I find I live in almost total isolation, apart from instead of a part of humanity in any truly interactive sense, despite my roles as teacher, lover, friend, and associate to the many whose shadows cross mine in life.  My students are my excuse at home, my home life my excuse at work.  My position of authority precludes intimacy with those of my students with whom I spend the bulk of my time outside of home.  Claims of duty to my work, on the other hand, allow me to shirk responsibility and, too often, even intimacy at home.  My nominal religious affiliation protects me from the antagonisms of agnostics and atheists while my cynicism distances me from the devoutly religious.  My concerns for the plights of the underprivileged in society are my bulwark against alignment with the uncaring, but my claims of neutrality and impotence serve as my shield against those who agitate for and enact political activism.
With whom or what, then, do I connect and interact?  What is my role in life, my purpose on this plane of existence?  Or is the question of why I feel the need for so much shielding and insulation a more appropriate question?  Of what am I afraid?
Paul Simon wrote a song in the late sixties or early seventies that I took for my youthful anthem, not realizing the telling irony of the lyrics until much later in life, long after I’d been flashing the world with glimpses of my sorry soul without even realizing it.  “I am a Rock,” Simon wrote.  “I am an island, and a rock never cries and an island never feels.”  I liked that thought, for puberty and even my nominally post-pubescent years were intensely painful.  I had led a charmed childhood, sheltered from all the slings and arrows of adversity by dutiful parents who only knew how to demonstrate love through discipline and providing, who dealt with their own fears by insulating my life against danger and teaching me to isolate myself for safety as well.  So I’m safe, but I know fear far too well; it is such a constant companion that I even fear its absence.  What would I do without fear against which to insulate myself?
Ironically, this is the very conservative-minded mentality against which I rage in my classes and my diatribes.  I know consciously, intellectually, how fatal such a siege mentality is, that it lay at the heart of what has long been stigmatized as the Dark Ages, and I firmly believe that it lies at the base of the current economic and energy crises gripping our country today.  Knowing doesn’t change a lifetime of ingrained attitudes and fears, however; for I know in my gut that if I let go of these fears, I’ll have to face other dilemmas for which I lack solutions because I lack experience.
Some of our world’s business and government leaders know this truth as well, though that knowledge is not reflected in their actions. Is the unknown so much more intimidating than the comfortably known fears of childhood that we as a society dare not move forward in response to the world our ingenuity and aggression has shaped? Such seems to be the unfortunate case. Will we, like the generation before us, have the courage to open new avenues and possibilities for the coming generations, or will we be ruled by the fears of the unknown that increasingly dominate with age, cutting off  hope for those who follow in a desperate attempt to extend our own comfort for the meager time we have left to our own existence?

Halloween Is Coming

Halloween Is Coming

This last day of September is a bright, beautifully lit day, one last glow before this area succumbs to the expected series of wintry blows that annually sweep out the year’s detritus. Lawnmowers, hedge trimmers, and leaf blowers swing through parks and lawns, perhaps for the last time this year, perhaps not.

Tomorrow begins October. Already stores have their Halloween goods on display: eerie cackles over pointy hats, whispy brooms, seething cauldrons, silken webs, all artistically draped over mounds of pounds of candy. For the for the sheltered and the naïve, it is still a time for innocent fun.

Conservative schools and parents, however, are prepare for what has become an annual war of words and policies over whether or not what was once an important Christian holiday has become an annual Satanic celebration. In fairness, how many people actually remember or think about the fact that Halloween started out as the Eve of All Saints Day, a time for reflection and contrition? Somehow it has gone from being a time of chasing out old demons and letting go of sinful ways to being a celebration of indulgence and demonizing. Each year the news is filled with tales of drink-fueled sprees of vandalism and violence. The entertainment industry contributes its bit to the shaping of contemporary culture by releasing a slew of horror-based films and songs of violence to match the sentiment of the season.

Like Christmas Eve, Halloween has been co-opted for commercial purposes. As the pre-Christmas season is the time of year when merchants expect to make the bulk of their profits, so the pre-Halloween season has become the greatest time of marketing and sales for the candy, sugar products, and costume industries.

Christian holidays have become touchstones for big business in the U.S. Perhaps that is why our money still says, “In God We Trust”; not a statement of religious faith, as the civil liberties advocates claim, but rather as an affirmation of commercial philosophy, as marketers practice it. Soon enough the bright glow of summer will be replaced by the bright glow of coins flowing into tills across the land.

9/30/05

Communication Gap No

Communication Gap: Noncultural

We are both speaking English, but we don’t seem to be speaking the same language, for communication clearly is not occurring. We have both been born and reared in the same country, though that, too, is not self-evident, at least not to one of us. In fact, from what she is saying, I would guess that we shared very similar childhoods and experiences, though that is nearly impossible to tell now. Somehow she has been frozen in time, trapped in an American experience that may never have truly existed, that certainly no longer represents any great universal, though she claims it as an unarguable, unchanged, perpetual truth. How did our once shared experiences become so different? Where did the paths diverge and why? I call her a fool as I turn and walk away, asserting that it’s okay because, after all, it’s a free country where people are allowed to be fools . . . but perhaps it is I who am the fool to expect that the Great Truth of my personal experiences must necessarily be universal truth for all people.

9/30/05

Fiery streams flow

Fiery streams flow like lava
Down Southern California slopes
Washing before them complex webs
Of wishes, dreams, and hopes
The U.S. nightly news swings
From flood to fire with ease
Like Jackson’s Tolkienesque images
Of undammed floods and burning trees
Whether in peace or in war
The cameras roll
Eager to catch the next great image
Of a troubled soul
It’s all about pictures and soundbites today
Reduction of thought
Amidst overblown stories and oversized people
Societal solace is sought

Promises of Indian Summer

The sun is shining
The car is calling
Auto hygiene is a must

Feather's flying
Ribbon's teasing
Must catch JJ or bust

Rain's done falling
Floods receding
Government promises: who to trust?

Indian summer
So they call it
Sunny days before the frost

Race in language
Thought control
Freedom's hazy promise tossed?

Life seems good
Gas seems safe
Indian summer's hazy promise?

Realists know
Winter's coming
Time for dreams to lie at rest

Flippism Is The Key

Professor Batty never fails to stimulate thought. I like the idea of reciprocal affection and the consequences of its lack. When my human and I don't have our daily lovefests, life just isn't the same. When my human doesn't pay attention during those lovefests, payment must be exacted. After all, a feline is not for taking for granted. Love and affection go much more easily than they come, as they should, and once gone, neither readily returns, if ever. It's a good thing, then, that I'm a loving fellow...

Return of the Carpetbaggers

Return of the Carpetbaggers

Roughly one hundred forty years ago Northerners descended upon the war-ravaged South to help “reconstruct” it; now several Southern states are once again ravaged, this time by a combination of acts of nature and the negligence of humans. This time, however, a Southerner is authorizing the invasion of reconstructionists, proffering the sugar cube of federal funding for the right to rebuild the impoverished districts that have been devastated by storm, flood, and promised pestilence. Help is clearly needed and might be appreciated, if it actually comes without the inevitable strings attached.

Consider: Inner city revitalization projects have all too often meant the suburbanization of urban areas, the yuppy-izing of formerly low income dwellings and businesses, which, in turn, have resulted in the displacement of those who had nowhere else to go in the first place. Sure, it all looks pretty and clean folks no longer fear to visit, but where are the unwashed to go? Not to affordable housing: they bring property values down! Not to where the money has effected positive change: such areas are now desirable to and coveted by those who already have power and influence.

This time the 21st century carpetbaggers come bearing gaming consoles and hi-tech tools with their economic clout, but the net benefit for those who most need help will all too likely be the same as it was the last time our country was so thoroughly polarized. The rich will get richer, those with potential will migrate away, and those left behind will go on, scotch tape and stapler in hand, piecing their lives together as well as they can with what they can forage, bearing pity and scorn but little else.

Okay, yes, that does sound extremely cynical, but who do you know in great need that is proactive without model or education? Such folk are very few, and they do not long stay needy. Are we yet a culling society? Is that the last vestige of our agricultural roots that our society wishes to retain? Do we really believe that unless we keep our killer instincts, we will go the way of the Roman Empire? It wasn’t just their teeth they surrendered to the cavity that hollowed out their society long before the walls finally fell and the seven hills were filled with the rubble and debris of empire…

Promises

George W. Bush, the U.S. president who declared that this country will stay in Iraq for as long as it takes, for as much as it costs, has declared the same about his proposed federal support for the rebuilding of New Orleans and those parts of Mississippi that have been ravaged by Hurricane Katrina and the levy breaks that followed in its aftermath. He sounded positively New Dealish in his acknowledgement of domestic social problems such as generations’ old racism and economic disparity. If his promises of commitment to the people of these United States prove to be at least as firm as his promises to the people and ruling government of Iraq, he may yet redeem himself in the eyes of many Americans, though it may sadly come at the cost of some of his current supporters. Irony: you gotta love it.

9-16-05

Prohibition Returns

Prohibition Returns

According to Darya Folsom on this morning’s KRON TV News (9-16-05), two years ago California became the first state in the union to ban soda and junk foods from elementary and middle school campuses. Beginning next year, it will extend the ban to all public high schools.

Slowly but surely, California is outlawing previously legal lethal life choices and habits. People are being denied choices at each end of life, from anti-abortion to anti-euthanasia, and now being cut off from those lovely little vices that make the living between endpoints enjoyable: smoking, overeating, overindulging, even merely indulging. California, once the proud leader in freedom of expression and free will, is slowly but steadily heading toward becoming the foremost non-religious puritanical state of the union.

And where California, home to Hollywood, leads, can the nation and the world be far behind? (I feel a dystopian tale welling up . . .)

Sleepy Day

Blogger for Word:  I’ve been wanting to download and try this feature ever since I first saw it posted, but I’ve been mired on a borrowed Mac all summer. Now that I’ve finally figured out what I should have known about my router, I’m back on my own home ground. My human just isn’t the swiftest, sometimes…

I’ve been sleeping the day away…
Must have caught JJ’s cold…
Haven’t got much else to say
Except that I’m not feeling too bold
I wish just a little longer I could stay
But my human has laundry to fold
I love fresh laundry as you must know
Because long ago I told you so
So off I go to snuggle down
Hang loose, and I’ll see you around

Unclean

I blah blah blah
On my blog blog blog
Searching for something to say

My mind min mi
Is in that foggy place
Where it always likes to stay

The news washes over me
Leaving me feeling unclean
As the waters of Katrina
Have flushed out those who are mean

I'm not talking
About the raging, looting, and killing
But about the rapacious media
And their tripe that we're swilling

They circle like vultures
Excited for fresh meat
Reporting the new carpetbaggers
As they salivate over ratings sweet

Who stands to profit
From disaster's wake
Who thinks they really have
The most at stake

Is it the poor, the oppressed, the homeless
Or is it the media and the politician
Jostling for position

What more can they possibly say
At the end of the day
To make me not want to surf away

Possible vs. Useful

Always doing what one can is not always the best decision. Just because JJ can eat all the wet food set out in the morning doesn't mean he can keep it down. When he fails to do so, we are left not only with an empty food dish, but with more of a maze through which to pick our way during the course of the day. This would not be so bad if he could just keep his paws out of the marshes and bogs he creates...

Likewise my human has been told that there is such a thing as "free" foods, vegetables that can be eaten without restraint, with metabolic impunity. How can one so quickly forget that such a misuse of the word "free" is actually a mask for the more accurate term, "irresponsible"? For every action there is a reaction, and it's not always equal, despite what physicists may say...

Naturally, these thoughts beg a contemporary political analogy, but why reiterate the obvious? From those who want to do so much to those who do so little, there are ample examples of all sorts of extremes. Will these actions or inactions garner either appropriate gratitude or indignation? The reactions have thus far been out of proportion; why should one expect otherwise?

Do or do not, as Yoda has said. Freedom is the privilege of choice coupled with living with the consequences of one's own actions (and inaction). It is both price and reward, opportunity and Catch-22.

Katrina and Ophelia are out of human control, but how each of us responds is not. Likewise, what the government does is more a matter of electorate control than individual influence, but what we do about that is not. Should we always do everything just because we can? No. Like the truth, sometimes "all" is too much; sometimes not nearly enough.

What Kind of Student Are You?

What kind of student are you?
Apprentice or master, graduate or teacher,
What kind of student are you?
Do you sit quietly by
Watching time fly
Or do you drink in every word
That you've never before heard?
Are you one of those who races ahead,
Finishing assignments so there's no homework to dread?
Are you one who never hears anything new
Because knowledge has always come so quickly and easily to you?
Do you feel an irresistible need
To share your views with exceptional speed?
Do you flatter yourself that what you say will matter
To others intent on their own private patter?

Are you there to show the world what you know?
Are you there to drink deeply of the wisdom of the ages?
Are you there to share and grow in the sharing?
What kind of student are you?

Stretching

Stretching is good for you, so I'm told
I stretch daily, warm or cold
Today my human tried to stretch
Good thing I'm a neko and not a lech
What is it about humans that makes them so stiff
Like an ancient wall painting, a hieroglyph
I stretch when I wake, mid-sleep, and after meals
I stretch and I roll because I know how good it feels
Stretching a limb or stretching a tail
People should stretch instead of cramping to no avail
Legs and limbs, minds and hearts
People should stretch all of their parts
If people would stretch their souls to each other
There'd be better tales to tell amongst one another
And perhaps the human race
Could find its place
Within the framework of creation
We'd celebrate with elation
And share the joys of stretching
Instead of fearful retching
That this same human race
Might soon destroy this place
We all call home

O To Be Worry-Free

When I was a kitten I drank from the tap
My human would scoop water for me in a cap
I'd lick my balls right in my human's lap

Now we live in a bright shiny place
Where I can sit in the sun as I wash my face
And cars and trucks go by at a much slower pace

But the water in the hose and the tap aren't free
There's lead in the pipes that hose off my pee
And dead spiders in cobwebs everywhere that I see

My litter has been changed from cedar to pine
The feces that reeks is definitely mine
And ants race to my bowl before I can dine

There are more bills to pay
More guests come to stay
And my human these days is harder to sway

O that I could be once more worry-free
A neko abroad overlooking the sea
That's the life I would wish for me