Come the day, a Great Divider, who rules but does not lead.
This Father of Lies who befouls freedoms, sick grin upon his face, professing distinctions no one believes.
Greedily his eyes seek false praise, hungering for a glory never earned, a lust unappeased, with bloated contempt for august persons at war with this primordial craven need.
This Caricature, this sad cartoon in human suit, heart devoid of earthly emotion save those to nurture pusillanimous demands.
Oh come Great Divider, with fragile ego, and quest for grandeur, we want nothing more of you.
Your time is now, and now alone, a mistake of loathing and fear to be remembered by our children and those to follow. Be gone evil, your rein dwindles, hearth and home returns to us.
And by your leave, the child America will heal.
Famous celebrity graves aren’t common near me. Imagine my surprise when I discovered Leslie Nielsen was buried in my local cemetery. Stopped by to honor a great man.
“Don’t call me Shirley”
This is not a socially acceptable topic but let’s face it, I’m not diplomatic in my musings anyway.
I’m trapped. Not in any existential or philosophical way. I’m mean I’m literally trapped. On my toilet… I think it was the cheese I ate yesterday.
I’ve been prairie dogging it for 30 minutes. Nothing. Nada. Just me… this dark room… and no joy. Things are going nowhere, and it seems like I’ve been here forever.
You been here too. I know you have. And I know you know what I mean.
The calisthenics involved….. The rocking….Back and forth and back and forth as you begin to doubt your courage and willpower to make it happen.
Halfway through, you end up tearing your clothes off because it’s too damn hot, then two minutes later sweat breaks out on your body and you’re freezing.
And basically you’re just stuck there until something happens. Stuck with this reluctant visitor who refuses to jump into the pool, sticking only one toe in instead.
You tell yourself things like, don’t push the guest. He’ll jump in when he’s ready. But in the interest of time, you give it a go. You press the visitor to get on with it, weird sounds coming from the back of your throat and the resulting dizziness telling you you’ve gone too far.
You begin to think of the guest as a traitor, and start taking things personally, asking “why are you doing this to me” or saying things like, “I’m a nice person. This isn’t fair.”
At some point, you become desperate to end it all and cast your eyes around the immediate area searching for a chopstick, or anything pointy really.
this reluctant visitor…
this ne’er do well …
this irresponsible sluggard…
jumps into the pool with a tremendous splash, and you are praying to that great Yahweh, “YES, it is done.”
And then you have to look don’t you? C’mon you know you do.
So you look…and there a certain amount of pride…you think……how did I ever get that out of me…it looks like a baby’s leg… an entire leg!!! Yet, at the same time, you’re supremely disappointed because you expected to see a whole rotisserie chicken in the pool given your difficulty getting him in it in the first place.
I dunno. Maybe it’s just me. I should probably drink more water during the day.
Her: Have you heard about the Rapture?
Me: Ohmigod, YES! I fucking love Blondie.
Everyone went to school with her. She has long blonde hair and draws realistic pictures of horses. You knew Jennifer, didn’t you?