Friday, September 25, 2015
Pope arrives in Fiat
Maybe our big shots could settle for Chevvies?
Nope. Caddys and Lincolns. Often in their monster
SUV configurations.
And reinforced, since Ay-rabs might plant roadside
bombs, or open up with AK-47s. Or both.
Why not opt for surplus General Patton Tanks?
Clank clank clank come our Public Officials!
Easy to get private money to pay.
Can still have Patriotism when expecting a little back!
Labels: Arab, Cadillac, Chevrolet, fat, Lincoln, patriotism, Patton Tank, Pope, Pope"s Fiat
Monday, April 13, 2015
Stages of History...in an Office
Conservative Goal
I fill out forms. I know, we all do. But it's my living.
And an easy one, until I get a 5206. Nothing auto-fills
there. Everything must be filled in. And correctly!
Or face the wrath of one, Jeanetta.
The sessions with her are memorable. Literally.
You're given things to remember.
Such as
In 14e of 5206
A dash will do it all,
while 14f is wall to wall!
And there are other tricks!
This is just a smattering of the humiliating times
I spent with this “poetic” fussbudget!
Really! I have a Master's Degree!
Headly Merse had the same difficulties, but his
solution was to fetch her a Polack with a
seven-word vocabulary for a week in the woods.
He set about doing just that. No one every
found out how he did it, but Founder's Week
we were always given off, and...
Mr and Mrs Eddings, the Mom and Pop the
present employees had never seen, "celebrated"
in a flag-bedecked suite in Bide-a-Bit. But they
were too Altzheimed out to sense much.
Anyway, Jeanetta, came back refreshed and easy-
oozie. "Let all the sticky forms...go! They're a
pain in the ass. I'll handle 'em."
So, the Polack was some physician of sex! Wow!
Unfortunately, he was also now a broken man.
Everybody in Shipping remarked on it. Then...
a rogue forklift pinned him against the far
interior of a truck.
He rehabbed for a month, and when he came back,
had the most eccentric walk in the valley.
And never spoke again, though mumbled.
Was quietly retired by the company, Jeanetta's vote
being the deciding one.
Thus was Jeanetta at the peak of her power, but you'd
never know it day-to-day. She was sunshine!
There can be cloudy frames. And the one big one:
Her Mercedes shot into an overflow pond during
Hurricane Arturo, and she drowned.
Instead of her, we now have Royal. And many
days his Mrs too. Those are great days because
she brings in French Pastries from Pierre's,
the boxes decorated with crowns.
Royal eliminated ALL forms! I'm now busy
writing the history of the firm.
He's mostly austere, but does drop by
with severely rationed words of small talk.
His management style is...well simply
not apparent. But classy.
His wife is, of course, terrific!
Then, enter Melissa, on Spring Break from Smith.
Even sweeter than her mother!
But, one day of cool morning and Spring-Fever afternoon,
she leaves her ski jacket.
This precipitates a crisis because Bill Hepple
a down-the-line accountant is caught embracing,
and kissing and whispering to it. And detaching
the expired lift tickets!
By me, who really has no authority over him, but tell
him to knock it off!
"I can't help it, because I'm a Royalist!”
"We all support Royal!"
No, I don't mean that in the way you're saying it.
"They're the Royal Family! I'd give my LIFE!"
I had always been a democracy guy, and this was
all pretty upsetting.
Fast forward five years and I’m okay with it, since
I’m Pope.
Only in the yearly procession of course, but
with an unlimited budget for vestments.
The processions always go swimmingly!
The exception was the first one. The Polack
very nearly ruined it by prostrating himself
sarcastically, and mumbling fiercely in Polish
and English.
All looked to the Pope, sensing a spiritual
problem.
I blessed him with utmost peering deliberation.
“Arise! My son!”
Lion became weirdly-walking lamb, and the
procession continued
Not a dry eye.
Labels: Conservative, forms, office, Pope, Royalist, sex, spiritual
Saturday, February 07, 2015
The Rare Comedians of Rapid Falls
-The dentist drilled for decay as I said.
Down deep in my head!
-You usually speak in deathless prose.
But, exquisite poetry?
-A mere bagatelle.
-But, there’s a fly in your universal Jello.
-Howso?
-Wouldn’t GET decay if you brushed and flossed
assiduously.
-I’m as big an assiduous as the next guy!
-And you take days off from the process to inhale hangover fumes.
-Not many!
-Okay, so you’re a top-flight brusher and flosser, really!
The Lady Dentists will feature you at their convention.
In a brilliant glass case. Revolving.
-Me or the case?
-Both, in opposite directions.
-Christ! Vertigo!
-That’s for another kind of convention. Or film.
-And when they turn the lights out, do I hafta stay
in the case?
-Nein! They have their will of you then!
-Jesus! Can one get Viagra over the counter?
-Never you! The community must be protected.
-Be quiet while I’m practicing revolving.
-Fine! I’m making out the card for your display.
-Master Flosser?
-Asshole.
-All great men get hurt. But...should I wave? Thusly?
-Like the Pope saying “Get those fuckin peasants
off the grass!”
-No! More modesty-honesty. See? I can fake that best.
-People will little remember what we say here.
-That’s because they got sense.
Labels: brush, comedian, comedy, convention, dentist, floss, poetry, Pope, prose, Viagra
Monday, March 18, 2013
A Nice Bar
-I’m pulling a double shift. Linky got the flu.
-I’ll go easy on my drinking, Rita.
-As long as you don’t on your tipping. We had teachers in here last night talking about the new pope. He was a Crazy Bird in a Parliament of Fools or some such.
-Just shop talk. If it were machinists, they’d have their own in-language, jokes and puns too.
-More big spenders from the East!
-Bartender slang. You’re not immune.
-Never noticed.
-...they probably said Parliament of Fowls. From Chaucer.
-Yeah! That’s what they said! I thought it was basketball. Do you know everything?
-Let’s just say I’ve been educated far beyond my abilities.
Labels: Cardinal, Chaucer, in-language, Pope, profession, shoptalk
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Rocco, Fr Mike, and the Food Stamp Pope
ROCCO (singing)
Down Argentina way...
MIKE
And a Social Justice Advocate!
ROCCO
They'll call him The Food Stamp Pope. But I'll tell you,
Father Mike, the drooling sentries in my bedroom
put down their weapons in amazement that there's
a continent down there.
MIKE
We all must widen our focus. Present company included.
ROCCO
I might just take that slight hint. In thinking ten years or so a chocolate cardinal might transform to a white pope on that famous balcony.
MIKE
Be an even greater universal day!
ROCCO
I can't wait for the gigantic insuck of ghinny breath!
MIKE
I'll pray for your patience.
ROCCO
Don't bother.
MIKE
For your Catholicism then?
ROCCO
FWB Catholic suffices, thank you.
MIKE
Funerals, weddings, baptisms? Church offers
a greater spectrum. Let's sit down over...
ROCCO
Fettuccini Alfredo?
MIKE
Thin out the sauce and add clams. I don't wanna
be laughed off the handball court.
Rocco encounters few priests in South Philadelphia.
When they leave the rectory, there’s an argument.
Labels: Argentina, Bedroom Politics, Catholic, Conservative, Pope, priest, Rocco, Social Justice, South Philadelphia
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Cardinals at Pool
Two cardinals shoot Nine-Ball as the seminarian
enters with his more than tipsy guest.
-Oh I’m sorry your eminences! We thought the room
was empty.
He shoves the aromatic drunk but not before:
-I hear the new pope’s a darky!
If possible
to turn inside out from embarrassment,
the seminarian borders on the state.
-Now don’t treat your guest roughly on our
account.
We knocked around this raw world before the cloth.
-He...well we both a bit, uh, imbibed.
-Admirable frankness, so let me respond in kind.
You may be looking at the next Pope.
-You’re kidding! Oh I’m sorry!—we’re just all
disrespect.
-It’s not me. That shark that just banked in the
nine ball, whole-table length?
The drunk, feeling left out of the ecclesiastical
moment, blurts
-Gotta know your bank shots for the job then?
The winner bellowing
-Wouldn't be surprised!Labels: Cardinal, drunk, Nine-Ball, pool, Pope, seminarian
