Christmas is not what it used to be...here are two new sing-a-longs

The twelve days of shopping

On the first day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

A kick in the knee

On the second day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Two rough shoves

And a kick in the knee

On the third day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves

And a kick in the knee

On the fourth day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Four un-held doors

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves

And a kick in the knee

On the fifth day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Five dirty looks

Four un-held doors

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves

 And a kick in the knee

On the sixth day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Six tongue lashings

Five dirty looks

Four un-held doors

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves

And a kick in the knee

On the seventh day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Seven missed red lights

Six tongue lashings

Five dirty looks

Four un-held doors

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves 

And a kick in the knee

On the eighth day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Eight line up butt-ins

Seven missed red lights

Six tongue lashings

Five dirty looks

Four un-held doors

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves

And an kick in the knee

On the ninth day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Nine slush showers

Eight line up butt-ins

Seven missed red lights

Six tongue lashings

Five dirty looks

Four un-held doors

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves

 And a kick in the knee

On the tenth day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Ten store clerk attitudes

Nine slush showers

Eight line up butt-ins

Seven missed red lights

Six tongue lashings

Five dirty looks

Four un-held doors

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves

And a kick in the knee

On the eleventh day of shopping

A stranger gave to me

Eleven beggars begging

Ten store clerk attitudes

Nine slush showers

Eight line up butt-ins

Seven missed red lights

Six tongue lashings

Five dirty looks

Four un-held doors

Three yelled curses

Two rough shoves

And a kick in the knee

On the twelfth day of shopping

I said screw it and stayed home



Jingle hell

Dashing through the slush,

Around taxis in the way

Foot deep in dirty mush

Cursing all the way

Bells on beggars ring

Pedestrians scream in fright

What fun it is to spend and sing

A spending song tonight

Oh, credit cards, credit cards

Spending all the way

Oh what fun it is to shop and spend

Until the banks take it all away

Credit cards, credit cards

Spending all the way

Oh what fun it is to shop and spend

Until the banks take it all away

A little while ago

I went shopping out of pride

Society makes me spend

MasterCard sitting by my side

The interest rate was high

Around 26%

January’s bills are on nigh

Oh, how much have I spent?

Oh, credit cards, credit cards

Spending all the way

Oh what fun it is to shop and spend

Until the banks take it all away

Credit cards, credit cards

Spending all the way

Oh what fun it is to shop and spend

Until the banks take it all away

Hey!

Here is the poem about Liberia in spanish. Dedicado a Doña Miriam y Don Oscar.

LIBERIA

El aire huele diferente a la llegada,

El primer contacto…lleno de esperanzas y expectativas.

Hay temor a que el prejuicio baile con la ignorancia,

la verdad danza con un  menu preconcevido.

Las olas susurran a la luz de la luna,

Y la arena bajo ella canta una canción de libertad.

Una hermosa casa rebosante de luz y amor,

Explicaciones nunca solicitadas o jamas dadas;

Una bienvenida calurosa : una familia inesperada.

Existencia en cerámica sostenida por columnas arqueadas,

Mecedoras que susurran satisfacción.

En la ciudad las aceras hacen magia:

A veces desaparecen sin advertencia.

La estatua en el parque habla de generaciones pasadas,

El grafiti no recuerda.

Un grandioso arbol divide las calles,

Sus ramas unen a un pueblo de vasta memoria.

Luz y música de la taberna derrepente aparecen,

Acompañadas de risas y miradas curiosas.

El amanecer despierta nuevas aventuras;

Huevitos servidos en forma de sonrisas,

Jugo fresco proviene de manos sabias.

Se vislumbra el cielo alla abajo,

Una burbuja de alegría se rompe en espectativas.

El mar se desenvuelve sin parar, mezclando pensamientos y arena,

Las corrientes arrastran las preocupaciones.

En los salones torneados del caracol se escucha una sinfonía;

Falsos ecos cantan un arruyo.

Pisadas renuentes en la arena,

Ahi donde el sol se desliza suavemente detrás de calidas bienvenidas,

Y el viento susurra del avenir.

This is a letter to Dr. Laura (a right wing idiot in desperate need of an enema) that has been around the net for some time, but I find more pertinent than ever.

Dr. Laura Schlessinger is a radio personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio show. Recently, she said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura penned by a east coast resident, which was posted on the Internet. It's funny, as well as informative:

Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate. I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the other specific laws and how to follow them:

When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15:19- 24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?

A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?

Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? - Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

The prophecy of 2012 is coming.....maybe.

2012

Long count calendar, Mayan wrote;

Nine hells of fifty-two years;

Counter reset, beginning anew.

Transition from fourth world to fifth;

Five millennia in waiting;

Philosophy reborn.

Lord Krishna speaks in lunar cycles;

Hindu worlds yet unborn;

A golden foetus dreams;

Five millennia in gestation.

Malachy, a monk Irish born;

A saint made in Clement times.

One hundred and eleven popes named:

The labour of the sun wrapped in gold;

A life eclipsed in birth and death;

The second becomes third from last.

The glory of the olives reigns today;

German birth in controversy,

Benediction from the church assures rule;

Sixteen is second.

The seven hilled city is to be destroyed;

The Roman-born will witness.

The rock shall say amen;

The first shall be the last.

Living with people in an urban context (to be polite..)

Urban angst

Like a lot of you, I live in an urban environment.  I have to live through certain things on daily basis that just frost my bacon. One of the things that gets to me on a daily basis is the lack of courtesy out there. I mean, is it so hard to hold the freaking door for the person behind you? Do I have to dislocate my shoulder trying to reopen the half-closed door that you could not be bothered holding 5 seconds for me?

Another thing that makes me want to become a famous mass murderer is the lovely people who, when getting off an escalator, decide to stop right at the very place they get off....., and take a look around. What do you think is going to happen to all of the other people on the escalator behind you??? By nature an escalator escalates. Non stop! Move it honey, I really don’t want to become stuck in your underwear!

A subject deserving its own discussion is grocery shopping. I would really like to know what happened to mankind that we now have to hunt for our food in a great hall full of aisles of canned desires and of non qualified chariot drivers whose only mission is to get in your way. And what is it with those badly placed product displays in the middle of the aisles that act like obstacles in a video game? Do you win points with everyone you knock over? Boy, do I have a lot of accumulated points! How many times have you gone grocery shopping only to find yourself blocked in an aisle by some egotistical, self centered idiot, who leaves their shopping cart in the very middle of the aisle, while they peruse the 7 different kinds of ketchup? I feel like screaming at them “For fuck’s sake, it’s just ketchup, buy the freaking Heinz! If it’s too expensive, the no-name brand will do!” But my partner gives me his “look”, and I politely say “excuse me”, as I try to pass. I swear, if it was not for my partner, my local grocery store would resemble Chicago in the 30’s, with me playing the part of Al Capone.

Then, when you arrive bruised and battered at the checkout, you’re looking for a line-up with 1, the least amount of people, 2, with the least amount of groceries in the cart, and 3, with the least amount of seniors.  I am sorry, I have full respect for my elders, but Interac is not a social club:  get to know each other on your own time.

Another thing that makes me want to pull the wings off of Brownies, is riding the metro. If I were an angel or alien sent to earth to find good people to prove that the earth should not be destroyed, I would not look in the metro. I cannot tell you how many times I have tried to get off the metro, only to be blocked by a wall of stinking humanity that was trying to get on.  I would like to make this very clear: You.Are.Not. Getting. On. Until.I.Get.off. Could this be any clearer for you? Trust me; my elbows are a lot harder than the soft body parts they encounter as I fight my way out. To those of you who insist on standing at the doors even though you are eight stops away from your station, you are completely annoying and an obstruction to my wellbeing.  If the metro arrives at my stop and you are in my way, you just might find yourself getting off at a station you had no plans to visit. And please, let the guy with the broken leg have your seat; I am sure that you are comfortable sitting down, but how comfortable will you be with his crutch stuck up your ass? Think it won't happen?

Most of the time, I just want to yell “People, you have forgotten yourselves, remember that your actions affect everyone around you.” But then I remember that I am dealing with people. Sigh.

I am sick of bible thumping, ignorant people like Sarah Plain, er , Palin

For all of the self praising, redneck living, bible quoting ignoramuses like Sarah, who think they actually have a modicum of decency and knowledge, and who use religion to divide instead of unite, here is a passage from scripture (that I personnaly do not believe, but back atcha bitch)  that Mrs. Palin should follow very closely:

Let the women learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence. For Adam was first formed, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression." (I Timothy 2:11-14)

So Sarah, according to your bible, you should just SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!

This is not a poem.

Winter is come

The autumn wind blows me down the street

A brittle leaf, brown and crumbling

I tumble, having lost control

The wet concrete scrapes my emotions

 I look on grey skies and skeletal trees

Bony fingers try to grab and hold me

My helplessness pulls me away

I fly free along the empty road

Discarded refuse my only companion

Looking for a place to rest my mind

Looking for respite

Everything is going to sleep

Funny how it looks like everything is dying

White flakes fall upon my soul

Cold rain seeps into my marrow

Memories of sunshine and a warm summer's wind

Blown away in the chill of tomorrow

Winter is come

Observations in the metro, number 2.

I saw this guy in the metro today, the kind of guy who makes you jealous. He was six foot, six foot one, nicely cut hair, a jaw that looked like it was sculpted by Michelangelo, around thirty years old; you know the type. He was leaning against the doors and reading a newspaper, completely oblivious to everyone around him.  He looked so confident and self-assured.  I was looking at him from my perspective: a man in his forties, five foot seven, a little short on the self confidence side.

I started to really look at him and I noticed a few things that began to change my first impressions. The first thing I noticed were his shoes: they were old and scuffed. His pants were too short and he was wearing grey socks that obviously used to be black. I wondered if he was oblivious to the people surrounding him, or if he was trying to hide behind his newspaper.  I got to wondering what he did for a living; does he like his job, is his job fulfilling, can he pay the rent? Does he love, and is he loved?

At the time I was wearing nice cufflinks and a designer tie, and my pants covered the tops of my shoes. I really like my job, which I find fulfilling, and yes, it pays the rent. I have love in my life. It got me to thinking how first views can be misleading. For all I know, this man just went through a bad breakup (probably because of his refusal to buy new socks), or he was unemployed and on his way to a job interview. We are so quick to appraise on first glance and make judgement. I mean, is this a nice guy, a horrible drunk, or a scientific genius on his way to solve all of the world’s problems? How can you tell? We all see the world through our own self prescribed glasses.

When I got off the metro at my station, I felt better.  I began to wonder what people thought about me when seeing me in the metro. For all I know someone, somewhere, is writing a blog about the short guy with the nice tie who stares at other people. 

Observations in the metro, number 1.

Today riding in the metro, I saw a woman in her sixties wearing a hat, and I said to myself, “does she know she’s wearing such an ugly hat, a hat that is way too young for her?” I mean, does she really think this hat is going to make her the girl she might have been 30 or 40 years ago? Combined with the hat, she wore a skirt that would look good on the corner hooker.  I kind of felt sorry for her as she casually looked around. I could see her looking through lowered eyes at young men who could be the same age as her sons if she had any. I tried to imagine her face without all the wrinkles that the extravagant makeup failed to hide, and I could almost see the young woman of twenty she must have been.  Age has nothing to do with it: there are women in their seventies who look very attractive and confident, but this woman, she is trying too hard to hold on to something that is long gone.

I would have liked to stand up and take her hand and say “It’s alright getting older, as long as you do it with grace and pride for your accomplishments and for the life you have lived.” I would have liked to invite her for a drink. Unfortunately, I was not brave or crass enough to do so. I wonder what happened in her life that she cannot accept the slow, yet inevitable, passage to the place we must all reach. Then again, who the hell am I to judge.

It seems to me that communicating is not always easy.

Communication

What is said is perfectly clear;

The fog of comprehension is dense.

Ideas transmitted in high definition;

Local reception through rabbit ears.

Understanding is a concept not well understood;

Opinions have meaning to those who have opined.

Today’s conversations flow with ease;

Tomorrow’s questions unexpectedly difficult.

What is meant is stated, what is stated not meant;

Clarification is an endangered species.

Concepts lead conceptual lives,

More oft than not brutally murdered by reality.

Internal thoughts are fully expressed,

Internally.

Lately at work, my team has not been getting along that well..........

Together

The curtain rises for the show;

The actors all in place.

Egos clash with rehearsed lines;

Intentions lie in a heap on the floor.

Voices scratch like sandpaper;

Emotions left bleeding by rough tongue.

The audience does not applaud;

Confusion takes a bow.

Consensus desires the stage;

Personal views steal it.

Artistic solutions betray the master’s command;

A collective voice is needed.

Together the actors stand as one;

Singly each one dies a scripted death.

I love that show BROTHERS AND SISTERS, too bad it is not my reality.

Missing

Brothers and sisters born of a mother;

Childhood memories too distant.

Independent lives being lived;

Common courtesy forgotten. 

Sibling rivalry does not exist;

Communication the missing weapon.

Messages sent;

Answers waited for, never received.

Contacts made with anticipation;

Anticipated disappointment shown true.

Filial emotions suffocate in a vacuum;

Indifference thrives without air.

Brothers and sisters by birth;

Strangers by choice.

Ever had one of those days at work?

Futile

Going against the grain;

Sandpaper’s efforts wasted:

Certain woods will not be worn;

Advice falls like red leaves.

Rowing with intent;

The river is the nemesis.

Fear wears the crown;

Complacency has royal blood.

Decision is a rare prince;

Abdication his more popular brother.

Questions hide in shadows;

Courage dies a cowardly death.

Futility reigns.

This is about my visits to my in-laws in Liberia, Costa Rica

Liberia

The air smells different upon arrival;

Life mixes with hope and expectations.

Fear that prejudice tangos with ignorance;

Truth dances with a preconceived menu.

Waves whisper in the moonlight;

The sands beneath breathe a song of freedom.

A beautiful house alive with love and light;

Explanations never asked for nor given.

A welcome, most gracious: a family unexpected.

Tiled living supported by arched columns;

Rocking chairs whisper contentment.

Local sidewalks perform magic tricks,

Disappearing without warning.

Light and music from a tavern suddenly appear;

Easy laughter, curious looks.

The statue in a park speaks of generations,

The graffiti does not remember.

A great tree divides a street,

Its branches unite a people whose memory is long.

Early sunlight brings thoughts of adventure;

Eggs made in the shape of a smile;

Fresh juice, squeezed with knowing hands.

Glimpses of sky down below;

A bubble of joy bursts in expectation.

The ocean rolls relentlessly, shifting thoughts with grains of sand;

Worries wash up like detritus, then taken away.

A symphony plays in spiral hallways;

False echoes sound a lullaby.

Reluctant footprints on the beach;

The sun smoothly slides behind warm welcomes.

The wind whispers of tomorrow.

My partner and I had a little discussion about his control issuses. He is sooooo like his mom...

Control

Inadequacy sows seeds of false control;

To let go is to give in.

From one generation to another no change discerned:

The story goes on as written by familial hand.

The mirror of self shows no flaws;

Distorted reflections of lessons taught.

Tenderness wrapped in barbed wire;

Conviction does not bleed when cut.

Fault easily spread,

Seeds never find the farmer.

Anger grows like moss in shadows;

Fear of humility blocks the light.

Solutions die before birth;

Suicide by ego.

Some friends of mine are getting married next year, and a certain mother is trying to take control......



Dear mom,

I would really like to thank you for giving birth to me, it is really appreciated. I understand from testimonials that you went through a lot of pain and agony, and I realize that this was a testament of your love for me and that your sense of control over me was also born on the same day. I guess you could say that you gave birth to twins that day: me and the loving apron strings that have been wrapped around my throat like the umbilical cord that should have been cut many years ago.

I know that you have always thought that you know what is best for me, and I really am thankful for all the pain I was spared because of your loving interventions. I also learned in school the importance of the separation of church and state to make sure that god had no control over free will when it comes to making wedding plans. Because I was taught by you to make decisions for my own life as a grown man, I respect your second guessing of my decision making abilities as an adult.

We live so far apart, yet, because of your frequent expressions of maternal love, it seems that we share the same house. Your nightly phone calls, full of motherly ideas of matrimonial bliss, are sandpaper to smooth away my own false preconceptions of happiness.

I really do appreciate your (s)mothering; without your timely advice, I am quite sure that I would have been engaged to a banker or something as horrid. Your suggestions and advice are always welcome, but please, this is my wedding; let me be queen for a day.

Your loving son.

One of my friends asked me to write a diplomatic letter to an annoying friend...



Dearest friend,

I would like to take a few minutes to thank you for the sincerity you continually show in our relationship. Your consistent willingness to assert your opinions is only surpassed by the inconsistency in the number of times that you are actually right. Your views are forceful and show an incredible lack of thought to the point where the only explanation could be an endless amount of practice. I congratulate you on your perseverance and wish you continued success.

I would also like to say that I admire your incredible talents. You are one of the most creative people I have ever met: the creative things you do with the truth are nothing short of sheer artistry. You bend words like a magician bends a spoon, with the pure power of his imagination. I can only imagine what it is like to live in your world where every thought and opinion is as well rounded as you are. Alas, we cannot all be so lucky to live in a fantastic world where opposition is swept away by a tide of indignation.

I would like to thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to remind our dear friend in Toronto of my possible memory lapse in wishing him a happy birthday. Your foresight into my possible early onset of Alzheimer’s is really quite thoughtful. One could almost say that your anticipation of this forgetfulness on my part was a premeditated act of kindness.

I would like to thank you in advance for your future lack of calls to my partner and I; your missing presence will be appreciated to no end.

Sincerely, and I do mean sincerely,

Annoyed friend.

Been feeling a little bothered lately by stupid people who infest my life, time for a martini!

Disconnected


Every day the sun shines the same;
Yellow, bright, boring light.
Every day the wind is the same;
It just gets in the way, like people on sidewalks.
Every day people pretend to want to smile;
The wilted flowers shed tears of dust.
Every-day frustrations blossom;
Mushrooms thrive on subway platforms.
Every day incivility is excused;
Politics wears a comedic mask.
Every day the truth grows weary,
Embarrassed by a thousand lies.