“Sell” the “Cl” and “Buy” an “F” (1 Quick Limerick #083)

 

For those so inclined… today’s poetry requires some active reader participation… 18+ only please. To max out your reading enjoyment, read… word for word… and then follow… to the letter… this blog’s above-headlined Line 4 / Word 4 Instructions.

 

Trump and his boneheaded, bigoted base,
Plot to reboot Adolf’s Aryan race,
They hanker for “Mein Kamph”, redux,
Amerika Axis! (Dumb Clucks!)
Fighting FOR fascism¹ is a disgrace!

 

 

¹ WTF gives anyway? From time immemorial, our fearless ancestors have fought and even bled to death to gain and maintain freedom… each earning the fitting title of Freedom Fighter.

Not even in our worst nightmares could we have ever foreseen the day where once upon a time decent folks are getting suckered into becoming Fascist Fighters… on behalf of some flimflamming, glad-handing, greed driven, bastard, a-hole, autocratic leader, who’ll sell the soul of humanity… bleed humanity dry… even destroy an entire ecosystem… just to get the trains to run on time.

The easily duped can count on having little to nothing to show for their misguided, blind loyalty… other than a dead-end, benefits barren, non-living wage, here today / gone tomorrow, part time, clock punching job. A lousy trade off considering how they’ll be selling their very souls to the bosses from hell… typically the tyrannical, maniacal, sadistic slave-drivers, who’ll get off on watching their workers suffer hourly and drop dead prematurely.

 

 

 

 

 

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D-Student Don D-Caps D-Day ~ 1 Quick Limerick #082

 

The lowdown on D-student Trump, Donald J:
NO bookworm, NO history buff; safe to say,
In his big head; witted, dim,
June Sixth is ALL about HIM,
Just because D-caps begin Don and D-Day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Flag Hugger/Waver Who Embraces UnWavering Vice

PREFACE: That blog topper video features the Trumpster desecrating both the American flag and the Rolling Stones’ track, You Can’t Always Get What You Want. May those Mick Jagger / Keith Richard lyrics prove prophetic… namely… that [1] the fake prez can’t get the overthrow of America… slash… second term… that he wants / lusts after AND [2] come Inauguration Day 2021… true blue American patriots will get the real, honorable presidential successor we so desperately need.

Progressing onward, now, to the remainder of this short read…

 

My schoolteacher parents raised me well. One of their priceless life lessons also serves as a red alert to our global society…

Be wary of superpatriots… especially those who either lust after or actually wield power. Typically, such “flag wavers” and “flag huggers” have EVERYTHING BUT society’s well-being in mind.

Hmm… sound like anyone we know?

You do have my pity if vile / evil leadership is sucking the lifeblood / oxygen from your homeland.

In theory… glorious governance basks and thrives in oversight’s sunlight… its people and book smart, ethical leaders embracing all liberating knowledge and even-handed, equality-minded, forward thinking laws… a truly representative democracy where leaders and leaded… alike… secure cherished freedom, peace and prosperity for themselves / posterity.

In practice… far too frequently… grotesque governance stagnates and suffocates society in sewage and its accompanying pervasive stench. Its ignorant and ignoble, conniving, cowardly, shallow, stick-figure dictators reveling within their pathetic, shadowy, dank, little worlds while [1] hammering in odious, backward laws that shall forever enslave the oppressed, downtrodden masses, [2] fomenting class wars and racial / religious unrest and [3] provoking genocidal, bloodstained,  mushroom clouded, no-win wars / holocausts. And to what end?  Just so these autocratic anuses can snag themselves a nasty dynasty and a fleeting footnote in the annals of history?

To discover what happens next, one need only re-read the previous paragraph… uh… regrettably… endlessly.

• Must what happens next always wind up a vicious cycle?

• Why is it so much easier to destroy than create… for civilization to self-destruct than survive?

 

 

 

 

White House Whitewash ~ 1 Quick Limerick #081

 

He who shouts loudest is right? No mistaking,
Smacks of fake bellowing and bellyaching,
Don’s White House “give ‘em hell” yelling,
Whitewashes whoppers he’s telling,
An unpresidential, unwise undertaking!

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Sunday Song Dedicated to Hungover Humanity…

 

While our Sunday Song Series’ week #38 featured track will offer up a heapin’ helpin’ of crossover appeal… regardless of one’s blood alcohol level… the folks who’ll appreciate the lyrical sentiments the most will be the party-goers and pub-crawlers who’ve been out on a bender from late Saturday night into the wee hours of Sunday and, consequently, are now fully expecting it’ll take an entire month of Sundays to fully recover.

How fortuitous that we can draw upon singer / songwriter / guitarist Vern Gosdin’s long ago, repertoire for the aptly titled toe-tapper… A Month of Sundays… all dedicated to hungover humanity in need of musical and lyrical commiseration.

Our still going strong Sunday Song Series will return seven days from now… hopefully, you will too?

 

 

 

The Adventures of Harrison and Human (Chapter-1)

 

I could’ve sworn someone had just spoken to me in a near whisper…

“Pssst… hey human!”

Perhaps this was a mere figment of my imagination? Oh… say… my erroneously assigning human syntax and phonics to what was… in actuality… a mere, momentary wind gust rustling a nearby lilac thicket’s leaves? Well… I had no sooner summarily dismissed this as such a phenomenon than the unseen speaker spoke again… this time with added conviction and decibels…

“Hey! Over here!”

My ears now properly attuned, they advised a 180 spin. Pivoting on my heels… lo and behold… there he was! And most assuredly, this was no ordinary, up-at-the-crack-of-dawn passerby… no jogger or nature walker was he.

Indeed, amidst the stray sunbeam lit, verdant field of clover, sat an up on his haunches, uncharacteristically unskittish rabbit… sporting a dapper, multiple gradations of brown, furry coat and tails. Uh… correction… let’s make those “tails” one, fluffy, grayish-white cottontail.

Even though I could not immediately reconcile the contradictory aural / visual sensory input, at hand… there could be no denying his presence. But a talking rabbit? NO… I would not… could not… “go there!”

Was I actually starting to sense his amusement, too? I could not be certain. What was for fur sure? Being at a distinct psychological disadvantage.

Transfixed and momentarily speechless were we… he… casually chewing on the clover leaves within his twitching whiskered mouth… I… desperately ISO any signs of the human responsible for those uttered, two, brief sentences. But, with no such person in the vicinity, I began wondering if straitjackets are custom tailored or only a one size fits all / off the rack prospect.  Just when I thought my jaw could not drop any further… said he… omg… SAID HE?

“Yes… it really IS just you and me.”

Was his accompanying chortled chorus to mock or reassure me?

I could only hunker down with my mind’s “this cannot possibly be happening” utter disbelief. My mind? What mind?

There just had to be some logical explanation! At stake, was my very WordPress screen-name, CommonSenseTom… which I realized could soon be rendered nonsensical. It was then that… not unlike a TM mantra… I began recursively reminding myself…

“Rabbits cannot talk! Rabbits cannot talk! Rabbits cannot talk!”

“Oh yes we can! Yes we can! Yes we can!”

… Mr. Rabbit’s reply clearly establishing that I had either, actually, vocalized my thoughts or he was a mind-reader, too. Quick as a bunny he added in a big voice inconsistent to his small, short stature… and with a New England accent, to boot…

“So sorry to get your wind up. Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Human. Allow me to introduce myself. Dr. Harrison Hare D-I-X. But do call me Harry… that sounds far less stuffy.”

“D-I-X? DIX as in Roman numerals? As in Harrison the 509th?”

“Hey… don’t look so shocked. A rabbit’s prolific nature is a fact of life… not some credulity contorting Urban Legend!”

Still doubting my sanity, while nonchalantly, softly humming the Jefferson Airplane’s classic rock tune, White Rabbit, I made a full 360 scan of the vicinity… this time ISO some cleverly hidden TV cameras. I was now actually entertaining the notion that I was EITHER getting punk’d OR some new network reality show had hired a dude to throw his voice rabbit-ward. Sensing that awkward silences could easily render the recorded “footage” unfit for cable, streaming, the airwaves, etc… that I could easily blow any chances for my big break into TV land fame and fortune… I decided to play along…

“Hey, Harry, has anybody ever told you your voice sounds just like John F. Kennedy’s?”

“No… but then again… I don’t normally talk with all that many humans. And speaking of talking… to whom do I have the pleasure of meeting on this balmy, late spring morn?”

“The name is Thomas BlogDonovich… no Roman numerals needed… and btw… Tom will suffice. I guess I’m glad to meet you, too.”

“Still unsure I’m really talking to you, huh?”

“Sure am… in fact your chosen word… balmy… likely better describes my mental state… uh… than this morn’s weather. I mean… a talking rabbit?”

“Not just A rabbit, friend Tom… ALL rabbits can talk!”

“So this is really happening and I’m not really losing it?”

“Tom… I assure you… this IS really happening! You must believe me, OK?

“I’m trying. I’m trying. But why… pray tell… have you chosen this particular time to break the ice? After all, we’ve been neighbors for nearly two decades.”

“The answer to your question IS you. You see, ever since late January`17 me and the Missus have found it damned near impossible to not overhear you constantly yelling back at your radio during NPR’s Morning Edition and All Things Considered newscasts… namely… your name-calling and cussing… your calling out the deplorable words and deeds of THAT pathetic narcissistic horse’s ass.”

“Do you find that even remotely shocking?”

“No! Not at at all. It’s just that your excessively dwelling on that contemptible, corrupt creep is not healthy, my man. If you’d like, I do have my PhD in Psychology and am willing to talk you through these tough times… pro bono… you know… the same way liberal talk jockey Randi Rhodes counseled you, way back in 2004… the day after W got reelected.”

“You actually recall my long ago on air, nationwide conversation with Ms. Rhodes?”

“Sure do. And I really do want to help you.”

“But, not paying you just wouldn’t feel right.”

“Friend Tom, you haven’t been charging me… not even one penny… for the nearly 20 years my family and I have been grazing in your clover patch, either.”

“Touché… friend Harry… touché!”

Coming down from my momentary reverie about Ms. Rhodes… as well as still attempting to wrap my mind around this talking rabbit scenario did take a moment or two. And Harry did use that temporal opportunity to full advantage by chowing down another couple of mouthfuls of clover. Due to his nearly impeccable table manners he didn’t speak again until after his gulp and loud belch. Remember (ha ha) I did say, “nearly impeccable.”

“While rabbitkind is genuinely interested in your well-being, we must also keep our own best interests in mind. And, uppermost on the minds of every creature… great and small… is global environmental distress. It all boils down to this, Tom. Your survival in this hood IS our survival. Were you to ever leave us… perhaps even head for the hills ISO some hippie dippy commune… that’d mean a new property owner, here. And what would be the odds that he wouldn’t be a grass farmer who’s been brainwashed by the toxic chemicals spewing, lawn care industry?”

“And not even growing the type of grass he could harvest and hawk for profit.”

“Precisely!”

We both momentarily chuckled while slowly, horizontally swaying our heads in disbelief.

“Tom, the entire rabbit community deems your clover field a culinary sweet treat and rates your backyard a five star eatery. We would never, ever want some lawn farmer to poison it with weed killer.”

“The good news, Harry… I plan on staying put, right here, till fiscal / physical death do us part… whichever happens first. The bad news, naturally, is how our neighbors’ toxic “cocktails” of fertilizers / insecticides / herbicides / homicides respect neither my property lines nor anyone else’s. Worse yet, when they (ab)use products such as Roundup™ they may even be condemning both themselves and innocent bystanders to premature Cancerous DEATHS!

“Why oh why must so damned many humans be ISO the psychotically perfect, grass blades only lawn? And do take my word for it… such grass only biomes taste bad even before the nasty lawn chemical “salad dressing” gets poured on.”

“I know exactly what you’re talking about, too. Not too long ago, I purchased some broccoli, which tasted the way nasty lawn chemicals stink. With my first bite, I nearly puked.”

“TMI Tom… TMI!”

Just as another momentary wind gust rustles the nearby, lilac’s leaves, Harry looks at his tiny cell phone screen and exclaims…

‘To quote Alice’s white rabbit, ‘Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and whiskers! I’m late!’ I gotta hurry home.”

“Me too. And albeit way too belated, I now officially and warmly welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“Thank you. Are you now a bit more convinced that we can really converse?”

“Well… friend Harry… it’s not my talking to you that’s unbelievable, it’s your talking to me. I mean… this REALLY DID happen, right?”

“Yes… friend Tom… this REALLY DID happen.”

 

 

To be continued…

 

 

Memorial Day Meditations

Ever since the United States of America set forth on its march towards independence… some two and one half centuries ago… our servicemen and servicewomen have been selflessly and courageously fighting and dying while protecting and defending the downtrodden masses… securing the path to liberty and prosperity for both their freedom loving compatriots and other like-minded peoples spanning our globe.

While, by my very nature, I do favor pacifism, I know fully well that such an ideal must be tempered by pragmatism. As such, I know these truths to be self-evident…

[1] peace does not always come easily
[2] freedom is not always free of charge… and as such… and regrettably…
[3] soldier patriots oft wind up paying freedom’s hefty price tag with their very blood

It is with all such sentiments in mind that I now stand upon my native soil on this Memorial Day, to express my undying gratitude… to direct my civilian salute heavenward to these exemplary servicewomen and servicemen.

Oh, if only I could end this blog right here and now… but…

It is with all such sentiments in mind that I now must also issue warnings about a looming threat to freedom / peace… namely… the resurgence of grotesque white supremacy.

I would never want to see past battlefield victories to have been for naught… specifically those wars where our troops defeated America’s Confederacy and Germany’s Third Reich… respectively… emancipating the slaves and liberating the Jews.

There is an urgent need to uproot / eradicate the choking, poisonous vines of racism. Bad actors… to name but a few… Bashar al-Assad, Kim Jong Un, Vladimir Putin and Donald J. Trump are all working overtime… independently and/or in collusion… to do their damnedest to suffocate life, liberty… joie de vivre itself… again.

Indeed, oppression can only thrive wherever and whenever a leader (such as DJT) is ignorant and/or ignoble… e.g., each and every time he…

[1] flips off Constitutionally stipulated congressional / judicial oversight / stacks the judicial deck
[2] stifles free speech / brands journalism fake news and journalists “enemies of the people”
[3] insulates himself with Orwellian sycophants who vomit forth putrid, “alternate facts”
[4] alienates / pisses off longstanding, honorable allies until they all despise him / the U.S.
[5] tears up mutually beneficial international treaties so no one will ever come to our aid again
[6] meets secretly with / sucks up to sworn enemies who deem him a patsy, not a pal
[7] welcomes / encourages foreign meddling into our free elections
[8] deems Nazis and Klansmen “fine people”
[9] erects walls, tears down bridges and wrests infants / children from their asylum seeking parents’ embraces
[10] makes war criminals his war heroes
[11] bosses around We The People who, in reality, are his bosses
[12] demands acceptance of his wretchedly unacceptable, patently offensive, avarice driven agenda
[13] conflates patriotism with blind loyalty, as in, exclusively to him

While I will always honor soldiers who’ve fought and died to secure a better life for us, would not each future Memorial Day service be even more meaningful were we to elect a new, honorable, mentally stable Commander-In-Chief who would ensure their long ago, hard-fought battle victories had not been in vain?

 

 

 

My apologies for this late posting. Internet magic cannot happen when connection problems block the path to the www.