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A Daily Observer in Bad Poetry

Humor in Daily Life, Politics and Sports

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humor, political, sports

humorous look at politics and sports

Madam Janine

The work day was over and the light on my monitor dimmed then flickered out

Traffic warnings had already been issued so getting home would require a different route

Having driven this detour before I knew it wasn’t a speed shot but at least the traffic moved

Better than a bumper to bumper standstill and the music stream rhythm had my mood improved

Suddenly two cars ahead, a SUV rear ended an ancient Buick with no tag or tail lights

The SUV owner was shaking his finger while the Buick owner was yelling,“he knew his rights.”

With no place to turn around I pulled into a lot advertising Madam Janine Psychic and Future Seer

With a good forty five minutes to kill before traffic cleared I parked behind a large cedar.

The entrance was partially obscured as I went up the stairs I noticed a candle in the window sill

Entering the room I realized all the cash I had were four twenties and a hundred dollar bill

An old woman appeared and motioned to an old yellow sofa, “ We reserve that one for our guests.”

It’s sixty dollars for the reading. We take Visa and Master Card but not American Express.”

Bony fingers snatched the bills I held out and they disappeared under a faded and torn sweater

Uneasiness was creeping in but the smell of something vaguely familiar made me feel better

You may enter,” said a voice through the beaded curtain separating the adjoining room

Pushing the beads aside, I saw Madam Janine gazing at me dressed in her gypsy costume

Her head scarf pulled low to her eye brows and a flamboyant shawl wrapped around her shoulders

Two cats were asleep on the mantle, in the fireplace the embers from a fire still smolders.

Motioning to sit in a wooden chair beside her, she set a deck of cards on a place mat of felt

I realized that my future was to be told by how the cards were dealt

How may I assist you in your travels through life?” asked Madam Janine.

I can help you with your current problems and those in the future now unseen.”

Madam, I’m not interested in the past, just what’s on the horizon for the next couple of years.”

“You see my broker has been all over the board and I’m asking for help to quell my fiscal fears.”

Nimble fingers dealt one card and then three all face down next to the first card

Staring at the cards her request to contact the spiritual world caught me off guard

Taking my hands she rolled her eyes skyward and chanted, “Mader Scad Hogits.”

The chant didn’t bother me but the spark generated by taking my hands scared me out of my wits

The chant had at once sounded both eerie and like something I’d heard before

Though I couldn’t place the verse, I had a gnawing feeling that was hard to ignore

Flipping the first card it revealed a character labeled The Fool facing away from me

A reversal of The Fool,” stated Janine. “Not a good sign for investments or salary.”

With no explanation she flipped the second card and up came the unsmiling Queen of Swords

Not reversed but according to Janine only if you agreed with the queen would you gain monetary rewards

The third card was flipped to reveal the Ten of Swords, not a good card at all in terms of money

The fact this card symbolized no achievement, only failure and misfortune was not funny.

Staring at he cards, I was sure of the hocus pocus but it seemed the cards were trying to transform

Perhaps the incense smoke was causing a dizziness but the card figures were beginning to deform

I looked again at the cards and the figures morphed into national politicians and then instantly blurred

Mader Scad Hogits,” loudly chanted Janine. “A better reading I would have preferred.”

I’ve asked again this last card show a way to better your investment expectation.”

When the fourth and final card revealed the Seven of Wands, I noticed Janine’s jubilation.

This card succeeds when being attacked from all sides and constantly regains control”

“So by the years end your investments will be good and financial hardship will not take its toll”

Thanking Madam Janine while walking out the door, I noticed that familiar smell

Are you having bacon tonight?” I asked as the recognizable aroma in my brain began to jell

Why no sweetie, “ stuttered Janine as I started down the stairs

Glancing in her car window I saw on the console a yellow pin that someone in uniform wears

Suddenly it all became clear, the whole Madam Janine charade much to my chagrin

The Mader Scad Hogits, the bacon smell, sweetie and the uniform pin

Madam Janine was Louise who worked in a Waffle House and read Tarot cards when time permits

Whether it’s fortunes told or eggs and hash browns, whatever the client asks for is what he gets

The mysterious chant meant two eggs scrambled hold the grits. I left the parking lot and turned to the right

My investments were safe as stated by Janine and I had a good laugh as I drove into the night.

They Don’t Make ‘Em Like The Cartwrights Anymore

img_0868Time 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

Remembrance of Yesterday Blues

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

Pucki: The Stable Mucking Elf

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.”

Let ’em Race

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

Did Hollywood Sanction White Privilege

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

The Killing of Major League Baseball

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

The Last Can of Green Beans

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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

Want Ad Translator

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It was Sunday, the paper’s heavy and the Classified section thick

Bills  are due, employment was needed and not a lot of room to cherry pick

Some new employment want ads might be a possible opportunity

A new posting even shows a job hiring in a nearby community

Closer inspection reveals the job description might need translation

Years of experience helped peruse the ads to avoid future frustration

Certain phrases hoist the red flags and should be discussed during the interview

Notices always promises stability, excellent conditions and part of a progressive crew

However what is written and real life might be the difference of night and day

A  quick look at some of the phrases might eliminate frustration and paycheck dismay

Fast Paced Environment: Meaning you’re in over your head from day one

As we have no training program you’ll work slavishly until deciding cut and run

Must be Flexible: We are short staffed, our place is a mess, you’d better be good with a broom

Oh and three days a week, be early as you’ll be mopping and scrubbing the restroom

Must be accurate: Pay attention to every detail, have positive attitude, and be highly organized

Our manager is a nit picker, tattles to the boss for minor infractions, so you will be scrutinized

Huge Opportunity for Growth: We’re broke and have only twenty four dollars in our bank account

An immediate need for you to land three huge clients within the week would be paramount

Must be a Team Player and able to Multitask: We are undisciplined and have no faith in our current staff

You’ll fill in when a deadbeat doesn’t show up, you’ll do his job and yours, but first you need a polygraph

Salary Commensurate with Experience: This phrase means we’re not planning on paying the new employee squat

You better be willing to work long hours for the minimum,  if expecting more wear clothes that make you look hot.

Years of want ad followup has led me to these conclusions, the job just might not be as the ad appears

So I’ll tell the unemployment lady I’m still out looking and have myself a few more beers.

                                                                                                                                

 

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