Thursday, April 28, 2016
Managing a Personal Crisis
-Your Government has a stake in
Dorine’s accepting you back.
Maintained “Drack” Carruthers–-
as his official badge announced.
-Cut it out! I don’t believe it!
Too penny-ante!
-You’d think, but both political parties
see our Nation’s future as comprised
of vibrant families.
-So what?
-What is you and she marry, produce
babies.
-Uh huh? Well, let me tell you
something! How about my
taking HER back? Why am
I always the meeching victim?
-Well, you mostly are. It’s been
your history.
-Is it...just the Government?
-Well, with our partners. Primary to your case:
Rejuvenation-Max LLC.
-Not familiar.
-You shoot a goose grease up your ass daily?
-Hemorrhoids.
-Precisely. Cost them a penny a pound.
By the time you use a pound it’s over a
thousand bucks to them.
-But I don’t understand. With or without
Dorine, I’d still use the product.
-Yeah but outside of a stable relationship,
you get erratic, miss a dose now and again.
-And multiply that by other fuckbrains...?
-Bingo! They’ve asked her to take you
back also...and there are others.
-I’m mad to come in contact with them!
-Oh?
-Whitman.
-Your profile mentions your quoting him. I...like your
eyes when you do. Dreamy not a bad approximation.
-Stop it! My eyes? Hardly know they’re around.
-Nonetheless. And I’m being objective. Dreamy.
-Well, I get a kick outa that! Coming, uh, back to Dorine...
-Oh I think we just moved on from her, don’t you?
Labels: breakup, Fascism, Government "Partners", Government Policy, relationship, social work, socialism, Whitman
Saturday, May 25, 2013
“The Porch of the Maiden”
Named by my father, who was well-read,
especially for the neighborhood.
She sat there of summer evenings and
never wore a shirt. She had been our tomboy,
angry organizer at our pickup games, exhorter
to get us to play with some directed passion.
All that ended with her porch gig, which
meant nothing when she resembled a boy,
but soon the little breasts were baseball-sized.
Her family eventually prevailed as she
never appeared there without crossing her
arms in front of her chest.
Then, in course, wearing a t-shirt, brilliant
white. Florescent before summer storms.
Soon, quite a surprise as she joined the
other girls, actually the girlie-girlie
contingent talking endlessly of boys,
and trading movie magazines.
She fooled us, too, by going to Commercial High
for the secretarial course. She, and a few others
in the city, though, transforming girls’ basketball
by playing a quick-passing, even driving, game.
Again her path diverged, being given a basketball
scholarship by Syracuse in the degree field of
Sports Management.
But she threw her queasy family a final joker by eloping
in her freshman year with a new graduate of that program.
They lived in a lot of New York towns after that, he doing sports spots for radio stations.
When female twins arrived, he, fortunately,
took over the management of a small FM outlet.
By the time he handled sports for a major
New York TV station, she finished her degree
at Columbia. But in Social Work.
She now works for an organization encouraging
young women to enter the sciences.
A very womanly woman to be sure, but one thing
never changed. The fierce brow.
Named by my father, who was well-read,
especially for the neighborhood.
She sat there of summer evenings and
never wore a shirt. She had been our tomboy,
angry organizer at our pickup games, exhorter
to get us to play with some directed passion.
All that ended with her porch gig, which
meant nothing when she resembled a boy,
but soon the little breasts were baseball-sized.
Her family eventually prevailed as she
never appeared there without crossing her
arms in front of her chest.
Then, in course, wearing a t-shirt, brilliant
white. Florescent before summer storms.
Soon, quite a surprise as she joined the
other girls, actually the girlie-girlie
contingent talking endlessly of boys,
and trading movie magazines.
She fooled us, too, by going to Commercial High
for the secretarial course. She, and a few others
in the city, though, transforming girls’ basketball
by playing a quick-passing, even driving, game.
Again her path diverged, being given a basketball
scholarship by Syracuse in the degree field of
Sports Management.
But she threw her queasy family a final joker by eloping
in her freshman year with a new graduate of that program.
They lived in a lot of New York towns after that, he doing sports spots for radio stations.
When female twins arrived, he, fortunately,
took over the management of a small FM outlet.
By the time he handled sports for a major
New York TV station, she finished her degree
at Columbia. But in Social Work.
She now works for an organization encouraging
young women to enter the sciences.
A very womanly woman to be sure, but one thing
never changed. The fierce brow.
Labels: ambition, feminism, Porch of the Maidens, social work, Sports, Sports Management, tomboy, women's sports
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
Natural Selection
-Just the words Community Organizer makes
your scorn erupt.
-Yes, but I'm an Equal Opportunity Scorner.
I'd add Social Worker, Government Psychologist and Religious Do-Gooder.
-I get the drift. Anyone helping those on the lower limbs of the tree.
-Left alone, Nature will break them off and the
whole dependent crew plunge.
-To their death?
-Preferably.
-Your ilk has been known to employ a saw.
-We're too busy pushing the Great Wheel!
-And if you don't have a place there, then
know your place?
-Precisely.
-Have you ever heard of the two famous churches in Philadelphia? The servants
would drop off the exalted family at the
one, and then drive the carriage to
the other. Where the minister had been instructed to release them just in time
to pick up their betters as they emerged.
-I like anything systematic. And, I'm sure,
both heard the same scriptural flapdoodle.
-O ye of rich faith!
-I need it. We still don't rule fully enough.
-That's because it can't be completely bought.
-But mostly. We'll see about the rest.
-Just the words Community Organizer makes
your scorn erupt.
-Yes, but I'm an Equal Opportunity Scorner.
I'd add Social Worker, Government Psychologist and Religious Do-Gooder.
-I get the drift. Anyone helping those on the lower limbs of the tree.
-Left alone, Nature will break them off and the
whole dependent crew plunge.
-To their death?
-Preferably.
-Your ilk has been known to employ a saw.
-We're too busy pushing the Great Wheel!
-And if you don't have a place there, then
know your place?
-Precisely.
-Have you ever heard of the two famous churches in Philadelphia? The servants
would drop off the exalted family at the
one, and then drive the carriage to
the other. Where the minister had been instructed to release them just in time
to pick up their betters as they emerged.
-I like anything systematic. And, I'm sure,
both heard the same scriptural flapdoodle.
-O ye of rich faith!
-I need it. We still don't rule fully enough.
-That's because it can't be completely bought.
-But mostly. We'll see about the rest.
Labels: class, poverty, social work, wealth
