This page was started mostly as a spoof of the continual contrived seriousness that exists in the world today. Too many people ready to jump down others’throats as someone else might not share their cause or beliefs. I may be contacted at: Skittyman1@gmail.com or twitter @KevinSkittyman1.
Time was in the 1950’s and 60’s TV westerns ruled the prime time airwaves
Family interaction, life lessons learned and good verses evil were what America craves
Shows crowded the evening line up with admirable people defending what is theirs
Against the likes of droughts, intruders and a gunman’s icy stares
Everything had order, good guys wore white hats and women apron strings
In the end blissful couples rode into the sunset while the bad guy swings
Times have changed, entertainment must toe the mark of politically correct
The shows must appease all factions of the population or a group will vehemently object
Let’s look at what three shows were like then and how they might appear now
Back when broadcasts were for entertainment not today’s attitude of holier than thou
Bonanza: A sprawling saga of a widower and his three sons laying claim to a quarter of Nevada
They controlled the mining, logging and cattle trade pretty much the whole enchilada
Patriarch Ben would squire all eligible ladies with charm and an occasional mimosa
Until he took them out on a buggy ride to show them his huge Ponderosa
Adam, the eldest was aloof cultured and educated with a law degree
He hoped for grassroots support and to run for office as a governor nominee
Hoss the middle son was huge and cuddly but could give bad guys a serious “lickin”
But the Chinese cook Hop Sing stayed furious at him for eating all the “flied” chicken
Little Joe the youngest was quick with fists and gun while chasing anything in a skirt
But marry just one and a crazed animal stampede would stomp her into the dirt
Bonanza 2019: Not the same show as the the characters have been updated and modernized
The politically correct scripts are now written so the clan appears duly propagandized
Ben: Now an old white guy mostly a front porch sitter with a cane and fly swatter
After a newsprint article revealed him advising a woman in lieu of rent how to remain a squatter
Adam: After a failed attempt at public office opened a store for payday loans
In addition to the Ponderosa most of the titles to the surrounding ranches he now owns
Hoss: Tired of years of back breaking farm work and shoveling horse manure
He decided to open a chain of dining establishments and has become quite the entrepreneur
Joselito: Now in show business working as a cross dressing saloon singer known as the Silk Tornado
Adored by throngs of rhinestone cowboys for his haunting rendition of “The Streets of Laredo”
The Rifleman: A dirt farmer scratching out a living with his son and a modified rapid fire rifle
Soon the bad guys in the area found that this was a man not to trifle
He was Lucas Boy to the sheriff and helped him out of many scrapes
Such as gold heists, wanted gunslingers and jail house escapes
Son Mark when in trouble knew all he had to do was holler “Paw Paw”
And Lucas would drill six slugs into the bad guy before he had a chance to draw
The Rifleman 2019: The townspeople weary of flying bullets and violence they could not condone
Banned the multi-shot rifle and and declared the town a gun free zone
Lucas reduced to hurling rocks and insults had enough and decided to retire
Works now part time in a carnival as a trick shot artist and his beloved rifle he still gets to fire
Now fifty seven Mark diagnosed as obsessive compulsive has not fared nearly as well
Weary of the constant yelling of Paw Paw the town folk locked him in a shed behind the hotel
The Lone Ranger: In most westerns women were notably absent or shown as saloon girls or school marms
Those seemed to be the only occupations available when they came in from the farms
The Lone Ranger had no women either just his faithful side kick Tonto
A native American he traveled with the mysterious lawman using a gun not a bow
Together they would strike fear into bad guys all over the west
Quick to dispense both wisdom and and bullets they were two of the best
The Lone Ranger 2019: Though the characters look the same, they’re portrayed in a different light
Oh they’ll search for truth and justice and give the bad guys a fight
Still dressed in tight light blue attire with a black mask and white cowboy hat
He fires silver bullets a souvenir for the undertaker after he lays the bad guy out flat
He rides a big white horse and a saddle adorned with inlaid decoration
And Tonto still says Kemosabe a lot and looks at him with admiration
Only now by the glow of the campfire after the light of the day
One might hear Tonto demanding more Kemosabe while the Lone Ranger cries Hi O Silver Awaaayyyy
Well since my baby parked me
I’ve got a new place to dwell
It’s down at the end of Lonely Street
At Memory Care Hotel
Though the brochure seemed cheery
It’s fifty five grand a room
Warehoused dejected elderly
Try to smile through their gloom
You’ve made me so lonely baby
I get so lonely
Guess I’ll be lonely till I die
The food is to be Chef quality
But cold dinners out of a can
Can break a person’s spirit
Saving expenses is the meal plan
The healthcare seems basic
A retired doctor checks your ills
While you waste away in bed
The night staff steals your pain pills
I’m sorry your mom had to die
And my health is failing
Now your idea of contact
Is an occasional call and e-mailing
You’ve made me so lonely baby
I get so lonely
Guess I’ll be lonely till I die
I suppose by now you all have seen the story of the happy elves in Santa’s workshop
Singing, dancing and tapping away all wearing their cute pointy elf hats on top
Did you ever stop for a minute about who cares for the fat man’s reindeer?
Somehow the elf H R crone assigned that job to me as my new career
I really don’t understand her notion that I’m the one who peed in her Wheaties
Maybe thinking that my sweet sugar plum bribe attempt added to her type II diabetes
Elf school is a cut throat competition as jobs are assigned from workshop to stable mucker
The brown nosing that goes on is enough to make portions of your anatomy pucker
So here I am in the busiest time of the year with my wheelbarrow and muck rake
Up to my boot tops in high octane poo and a massive whiskey induced headache
This time of year Santa brings barrels of steroid feed complete with a hazmat warning
Though the stuff is smoking when added to the ration, it keeps them flying from night to morning
Then the day after the great ride I’m charged with the responsibility and to go to any length
To nurse those worn out bug splattered prima donna reindeer back to their previous strength
Please don’t get me started on those crybabies with their belly-aching whiny personalities
Because with all the the yearly press they draw they think they’re A-list celebrities
First there is Donner, dumb as a brick but biggest by far assigned to be the team leader
But he’s always bleeting in that obnoxious nasal voice for more hay in his feeder
Next is Comet the fastest but without a special bit causes the sleigh to pull to the right
And being only slightly off course can cause entire countries to be missed while flying at night
Then the two divas Prancer and Dancer, be glad homes are playing music about mistletoe and holly
If the music were show tunes the neighborhood would awaken their bad rendition of Hello Dolly
In the harness next are the over sexed devious love birds Vixen and Cupid
Always sneaking out behind the spruces thinking we are blind and stupid
Santa still gets the Wichita parents’ stink eye because of the incident behind the toy sack
Observed by many, parents had to explain to their tykes the deer were playing piggyback
Lastly we come to Dasher and Blitzen both with bad attitudes and horrible goof offs
Their contribution to the team is trying to hog the feed as soon as it hits the troughs
Finally let me clear up one last enduring rumor, red nosed Rudolph doesn’t exist
I understand the statement is surprisingly harsh and people will no doubt be pissed
It all started years ago on takeoff Donner got his head stuck in some decorations
Once in the air there’s no turning back the radar is updated as Santa tags all the locations
Donner spent that entire night trying to shake a Christmas tree bulb out of his nose
An unsuspecting Santa was caught up in the myth and decided not to disclose
All the “had a very shiny nose” drivel sounds adorable in nursery school
And to state the truth publicly would be construed as callous and cruel
So I’m shining up the harness and bells getting ready for the big night
Just remember it’s me Pucki, who makes your days be “Merry and Bright.”
Another season, another Chase, another champion crowned
Adding credence to the saying what goes around comes around
Back in the day NASCAR was an afternoon of racing excitement
Now the crowds are thinning and lack of interest seems the sport’s indictment
In the past fans schemed so their hard earned vacation days were written in the company’s planners
The television cameras now show those devoted grandstand fans disguised as marketing banners
Ticket prices are high and the old camper is going to need a lot of work to be operable
Spending that kind of money for a weekend of questionable racing no longer seems honorable
NASCAR fixed what wasn’t broke and stubbed their toe on greed
A botched attempt at competitiveness cloaked as safety and the rules changed on speed
Restrictor plates turned drivers into bystanders waiting for the big wreck
No helmet flinging or slingshots off turn four, just interchangeable driver suits waiting for their check
Four or five owners control the whole shebang as their teams are always upfront
The little guys with limited sponsorship are back of the pack and not in the hunt
Think STP, Valvoline, Hardee’s, Tide, Goodwrench, Miller, Budweiser, and Purolator
Just say the name around race fans and you’ll get an instant description of those past gladiators
Nowadays their cars look like kissing cousins, the word stock car has vanished and doesn’t apply
Gone are Dodge, Buick, Plymouth, Mercury, and AMC as sponsors’ dollars are in short supply
Racing champions are coronated by some silly Chase rules
Essentially treating fans of lessor financed drivers as gullible fools
Thank you NASCAR, you’ve turned a once enjoyable hair raising competition
Into an afternoon of caution flags, boring crew chief interviews, and car attrition
The old expression of “if you ain’t cheating then you ain’t trying,”
Has turned into “I’m watching football as this thing called racing I ain’t buying”
So Boogity Boogity Boogity boys let’s have a finish under a green and white checker
As endless commercials play while tangled cars that had run in the pack await the wrecker
Leaving the Doc’s sterile office, the exam paper left streaks on my rear
My lethargy and depression seemed symptomatic and I hoped not severe
My daily routine seemed aimless, what were goals were now dismissed
I was sleepwalking through life, working and eating but only to exist
Friendships seemed hollow, pleasure was fleeting as the world seemed a brownish gray
Hopefully the doctor could read something in my blood sample and right my dismay
I couldn’t check my personal page, look at my Twitter account or Instagram
As everyone’s got it better, has more followers, and about me not give a damn
In the past six months I’ve been friended by only four people that I don’t know
I liked something I saw so the friend request arrived to keep all status quo
The buzzing in my mind has grown louder reminding me of my inadequacy
And now I fear the persistent noise can’t be diagnosed clinically
The alcohol, the drugs, prescribed and not opened doors to nowhere
My tiny unremarkable life has become an unrelenting nightmare
No one notices, no one cares. The nurse only wanted my copay
So the doc can tell me nothing is wrong and to put my phone away.
But I can’t put it down, my cell has become me, I’m it’s identity
It’s my voice to all the other voices shouting at the globe’s inhumanity
It’s my umbilical cord to others meager triumphs and a channel to their hatred
The short video clips and bits of text all seem extreme, common sense negated
My thoughts begin to tumble, foreign voices and color explosions swirled
This device has become my addiction, an obsession in my private netherworld
Irrational thoughts of fame and glory have become a daily norm
My indifference coupled with lost souls’ recorded conflicts becomes a perfect storm
I’m feeling the need to end it all and find peace from the innate turmoil
Not to be understood, my resolution makes sense to me and my mentor the phone, stays loyal
Growing up in the fifties movies and television influenced impressionable minds
The images flickering across the screens produced ties that binds
Before Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, television was that era’s social media
If information was needed a phone wasn’t in play just the cumbersome encyclopedia
The politically correct industry has preached emphatically about white entitlement
The media railed against this unthinking concession with vile resentment
Social media, aspiring candidates, and celebrities decry this birthright
However, these same groups promoted this concept to keep all things white
As kids we sat in front of the black and white console clad in our Mickey Mouse ears
And watched the white t-shirted white kids sing and dance as Mousketeers
The whiteness of this group wasn’t an issue as we kids were all fans
However the brightness coming through the picture tube made us all wish for Ray Bans
Cartoon characters drawn in black were sassy cats, crows, or an agitated duck
If you were looking for a black role model you were out of luck
Amos and Andy, Tarzan’s natives and Our Gang’s Little Rascals with Buckwheat
Were stereotyped caricatures and all part of Hollywood’s quiet deceit
The entertainment industry grew a conscience after discovering a third color of green
It just may not be pure poison to show a person of color on the silver screen
American Bandstand showed bands playing both pop music and soul tunes
One realized all people could enjoy music and dance on Saturday afternoons
Weekly shows demonstrated that blacks and whites could interact
Networks added black people cast in recurring roles that had an impact
Star Trek’s Uhura, Mannix’s Peggy, and Julia all had starring roles
Give Mission Impossible’s Barney wire and a battery, he could sabotage bad guys’ controls
The pre-cable/satellite network industry flourished in the next couple of decades
However detective shows and wealthy elite sagas were best viewed through shades
Shows of color seemed to morph into thirty minute comedies of kids cracking wise
Creating a real life classroom situation that teachers grew to despise
Finally networks and movies began to show leadership roles in a different light
Corporate boardrooms seeing a depleting viewership realized all stars need not be white
Diversity became the collective buzzword to keep their investors in tow
One wouldn’t want any bad publicity leaking to the press to damage their profitable show
Politically correct agendas were trumpeted by those stepping from around the corner
Award shows became bully pulpits for high profile celebrities ranting in mock horror
Public Broadcasting lectured all with a haughty attitude preening for their pretentious fans
While watching the British comedies, Downton Abbey and Poldark through their Ray Bans
Hello folks, glad you tuned in. My name is Alex, your money protector
And I’m your late night burial on a budget funeral director
We know times are tough and with the price of funerals it’s easy to deduce
That ten thousand term life insurance policy will soon vamoose
There’s a multitude of tacked on costs involved with the actual service
But there’s no need to feel dejected, super anxious or extremely nervous
We can fill your needs, cut the superfluous add-ons to go with what is essential
And of course keep all details of the arrangements completely confidential
You’ve talked to the local mortuary personnel and though they seemed sincere
But while explaining the extra charges they sounded like a livestock auctioneer
You see a funeral isn’t a stuff ’em, praise ’em and plant ’em situation
There are multiple choices to be made post haste in this time of devastation
We’re here to take you away from unnecessary costs in your time of need
Tell us what you can comfortably spend, as your budget we won’t exceed
If you’re financially strapped, with only the Social Security benefit of two fifty five
Just ask for the government burial special and that’s no jive
We’ll treat the remains right, you need not worry about a thing
We handle documents, the casket and with our boom box memorial angels sing
The ceremony is quick, efficient, easy on the pocketbook so all is good
The casket is sealed with caulk and made from genuine plywood
Our Econovan is shined and polished to transport the loved one to our own cemetery
If pall bearers are in short supply, we have a jeep with a winch on stand by if necessary
If you prefer cremation we also offer special arrangements way below market price
Why pay thousands when our budget service will more than suffice
Finally we offer to those in economic hardship our bottom line no frills plan
For thirty nine ninety nine we handle business as only we can
The burial is in our compost pile with our twice yearly turnover guarantee
Our own fire pit is used for cremation to keep the details hassle free
The body is covered with remnants from our casket workshop
Two cans of lighter fluid are ceremoniously sprayed over the top
Words of tribute pour from our blue tooth speaker as the pyre is lit with a keepsake lighter
A souvenir to save in these difficult time to make things brighter
So give us a call when times are trying and money is tight
Dealing with death is bad enough but cleaning your savings out shouldn’t add to the fright
We are here to bury baseball not to praise it, the end came hard and fast.
It was determined the pace of play caused the game to breathe it’s last.
But the efforts to accelerate play wound up slowing the contest down
“Live in the moment, “ the sports psychologist say. “Unsnap your gloves and fiddle around.”
“Think about the pitch, achieve proper launch angle, swing through your predetermined zone”
And as strike three sails past you can blame the ump for calls blown.
Oops, time to change the pitcher, the starter has worked five innings and thrown eighty nine times
Sure he has a three hitter in play, but working the sixth would rank high in heinous crimes
Now we get that hallowed righty/lefty match up, much to the advertisers delight.
Two more pitching changes, twelve more commercials and this game goes to midnight.
Six more strikeouts, one home run and a bunt attempt call at first needs a review
Cut to the drug ad, beer ad and new car trash talk, and the fans are starting to boo.
The camera focuses on the backsides of three fat umps standing in a group
One has a head set, one stares at the booth and one looks into space like a nincompoop
The days of Sparky Anderson in a rage and Earl Weaver nose to nose are a youthful recollection
That game could hinge on the ump’s eyeball call and the ensuing fracas might lead to ejection
But now the headset ump removes his earphones signals the call as ordained by New York
Sure he doesn’t have to wipe tobacco juice off his face, but now a conformist dork
The announcers as if on cue, are quick to point out this is for the benefit of all involved
No emotion, no dirt kicking, no offering of eye glasses, just a shrug by managers, situation resolved
The broadcasters can go back to killing their listeners with needless pointless stats
“This player hits better after two strikes against Latino pitchers with runners on base using black bats”
Whatever happened to swing at strikes, put the ball in play and hit it where it’s pitched.
Sadly that idea went the way of affordable tickets, two dollar hot dogs and was ditched
The game is now a stream of steroid enriched behemoths hitting two thirty swinging for the fences
Hit a couple of long balls by the fourth before the parade of arm weary relievers commences
The thrill of the teacher rolling in the TV and watching the World Series is gone
It’s a shame the playoffs are played in arctic chill till the wee hours of the dawn
Staying up late now means playing endless rounds of Doom on your Play Station
No father son talk of stolen bases, moving the runner, or pitching rotation
So Baseball go ahead, sell a colorless diluted product while giving players million dollar deals
When no one is buying into this lame excuse of the Grand Ole Pastime, see how that feels
It was the day before Thanksgiving and everyone was to gather at Granny’s
The kin folk would be elbow to elbow and packed in all the crannies
The banquet is a traditional pot luck buffet spread on a long oak sideboard
The plates and silverware are next to the crystal pitchers of drinks to be poured
The room would be sweltering as Grandpa would have a fire going and the yule logs ablaze
Everyone would be hugging, head rubbing and shedding the festive sweaters worn for the holidays
The work day had been hard, half the staff waited till after lunch then ducked out early
The phone had rung constantly, and the wait time for clients left them surly
But the long weekend was here with just one task that needs completing
My famous green bean casserole always received rave reviews by all who were eating
The recipe is from a soup can and not highly thought of in the world of cuisines
The process is is simple, a can of soup, french fried onions, a little milk and a can of green beans
The dish can be assembled now, baked in the morning and served for dinner
Carried in an insulated bag, the fifty mile trip means the food arrives hot and me a winner
Snapping on the light, opening the pantry with the neatly stacked cans and grasping at air
The realization of no green beans produced a startling scare
Last weeks guests had been served the last green beans covered with crisp bacon
But knowing the corner grocer would have a can left me unshaken
Back in barely creeping bumper to bumper holiday traffic left me muttering to myself
The ten minute trip lasted forty five only to find no green beans on the shelf
Also none at the bigger market four blocks farther, or the drug store, or the big box food mart
The fact I hadn’t checked my meager grocery inventory hadn’t been smart
Panic was setting in, the thought of a hot dish casserole had begun to dim
When Friendly Tom’s Gas and Go glowed in the headlights, perhaps pickings might not be so slim
Entering the store and glancing at the can goods, there it sat
In all its giant green glory and me grinning like a Cheshire cat
Triumphantly dropping the can on the check out counter and feeling good to be alive
Friendly Tom cocked his eye and casually stated, “fourteen ninety five.”
Sensing shock and anger, Tom calmly stated. “Take it or leave it.”
Instead of Black Friday, Tom has Price Gouge Wednesday for items hard to get
The ten minute trip had turned into a three hour ordeal with me getting fleeced
But I had my prized can and my specialty will arrive in time for the feast
Thanksgiving morning went well, the dish looked great and traffic a breeze until the detour
An RV rear ended a farm wagon, jackknifed blocking lanes and covering all with manure
Adding twenty miles and forty five minutes the short trip had become a speed limit run
Dashing up the steps,I hoped my disheveled look would be forgiven as the prodigal son
The family was holding dinner nodding sympathetically hoping my distress to console
As I placed my now cooled dish next to one over baked turkey and thirteen other green bean casseroles
