Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Somewhat Annoying Dan McGrew
A bunch of the guyyys were whooo-ing it up
in the Pomeranian Latte Café
The dude that works the cappuccino machine
was really making it play
Back of the expresso bar all afunk sat a tiresome
chap named Leather
And snooping out his ‘phone was his soul-mate
true, a person that’s known as Heather
When out of the night, which was fifty above,
and into the din of yuppies
There stumbled a designer fresh from a show, in
need of a shower, and loaded for puppies
He looked like a guy with a foot in Wal-Mart, and
scarcely the strength of an elf
Yet he tilted a credit card onto the bar, and
called for coffee for himself
There was no could place the new guy’s face,
though and nobody cared a feather
But we ignored his health, and the last to ignore
him was Somewhat Annoying Biff Leather
There’s guys that tire your eyes, somewhat like a
rotten tuna
And such was he, and he looked to me like a guy
who had lived in Buna
With a styled goatee (not a good look, you see),
and the half-and-half all swirled
Then I got to figuring who he was, in a sports
coat colored like (I’m all out of rhymes for
Leather)
And I turned my head – watching him was the
person that’s known as Heather
His eyes went latexing around the room…but the reader can take pen or gadget in hand and continue.
Robert W. Service is out of fashion at present, probably because writing rhyming doggerel is pretty much a crime, as is much of Service’s vocabulary. But he’s good. He insisted that he wrote verse, not poetry, and verse for miners, sailors, soldiers, and bums. He succeeded brilliantly. And what a life he lived!
Monday, July 6, 2015
Three Short Poems
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Sanctuary
There is nothing outside. Yes, there are doors
One can, for now, come in, for there are doors
And one can always leave, for there are doors
But to go where? There is nothing outside.
The Doors! The Doors!
The celebrant still cries “The doors! The doors!”
But now we shut them only on ourselves
Silly Old Ox
Two stockings make complete a pair of socks
And two physicians are a paradox
And two Greek fellows are, yes, Orthodox!
mhall46184@aol.com
Sanctuary
There is nothing outside. Yes, there are doors
One can, for now, come in, for there are doors
And one can always leave, for there are doors
But to go where? There is nothing outside.
The Doors! The Doors!
The celebrant still cries “The doors! The doors!”
But now we shut them only on ourselves
Silly Old Ox
Two stockings make complete a pair of socks
And two physicians are a paradox
And two Greek fellows are, yes, Orthodox!
The End of the World - There are Crumbs all Over Your Shirt
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
There are Crumbs all Over Your Shirt
For a friend who must remain anonymous
A man in silences sniffs the air and notes
That wolves are lurking in the nearby copse
And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”
A man in grief meditates a tragedy
And weigh its pain between scripture and prayer
And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”
A man observes a burning house; alarmed,
He rushes in to save an endangered child
And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”
A man has trouble opening the door:
“Dear Wife, there is a corpse upon the mat.”
And his wife replies:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”
The missiles fall, the skies and moon turn red
The tides run high, are littered with the dead
The air is poisoned (which is always odd)
A man says “We must give our lives to God.”
And his wife replies:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.
And wipe your feet; I just mopped the
floor.”
mhall46184@aol.com
There are Crumbs all Over Your Shirt
For a friend who must remain anonymous
A man in silences sniffs the air and notes
That wolves are lurking in the nearby copse
And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”
A man in grief meditates a tragedy
And weigh its pain between scripture and prayer
And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”
A man observes a burning house; alarmed,
He rushes in to save an endangered child
And his wife says:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”
A man has trouble opening the door:
“Dear Wife, there is a corpse upon the mat.”
And his wife replies:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.”
The missiles fall, the skies and moon turn red
The tides run high, are littered with the dead
The air is poisoned (which is always odd)
A man says “We must give our lives to God.”
And his wife replies:
“There are crumbs all over your shirt.
And wipe your feet; I just mopped the
floor.”
Even the Frogs are Plotting Against Us
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Shhhhh…Even the Frogs
are Plotting Against Us
Little green frog upon the window screen
What are your intentions? What do you mean?
No Yankee Doodle Frog lurks in the night
Devouring bugs with its reptilian bite
Perhaps you are the newest Vatican drone
Programmed to spy out this domestic zone
Reporting to your masters in Peking
Your victim’s times for sleeping and waking
And sending secret codes from ice cream trucks
Unmarked UN chickens whose lying clucks
Are beamed from behind those closed big-box
stores
Political prisoners locked behind their doors -
But we with our emails will overwhelm
The NATO conspiracy of Jade Helm!
mhall46184@aol.com
Shhhhh…Even the Frogs
are Plotting Against Us
Little green frog upon the window screen
What are your intentions? What do you mean?
No Yankee Doodle Frog lurks in the night
Devouring bugs with its reptilian bite
Perhaps you are the newest Vatican drone
Programmed to spy out this domestic zone
Reporting to your masters in Peking
Your victim’s times for sleeping and waking
And sending secret codes from ice cream trucks
Unmarked UN chickens whose lying clucks
Are beamed from behind those closed big-box
stores
Political prisoners locked behind their doors -
But we with our emails will overwhelm
The NATO conspiracy of Jade Helm!
A Bucketful of Short Poems
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Abercrombie & Wal-Mart
As vain as any Paris boulevardier
The mighty hunter stalks the latest fashion
The latest camouflage is his only way
If it’s declasse’, his face turns ashen
When hunting wary deer through mud and mire
He must have a new suit of latest sheen
For all of his good buddies to admire
In leaf-mold green - so that he won’t be seen!
Blocking Progress
We must shore up crumbling institutions
Not because they are crumbling
Or even because they are institutions
But because they are right
A Republic
No God and no kings, no givers of rings
Only the scripted yelpings of a mob
Admiring each other’s piercings and tats
By the flickering light of burning books
Premium Unleaded Dinosaur
Drive faster, farther, more and more!
The gas tank’s full of dinosaur -
Faster than feet, faster than mules,
Just gotta love those fossil fuels!
Teach a Man to Fish
Give a man a fish and he’ll eat that day
Teach a man to fish and then he will say
“Forget this; gimme another ****ed fish.”
Prose and Poetry
Prose is nothing more than an untanned hide
From a bunny rabbit beaten to death
With a large stick, a rock, an unwashed fist
Poetry is a Sheffield-crafted knife
Well-sharpened and well-oiled, a work of art
Carefully cradled in an artisan’s hand
A Windy Day in Rome
If hungry children ask their father for bread
Will he then give them climate lectures instead?
These Floors Have Character
“These floorrrrrrrrs have characterrrrrr,” the
buyer purrrrrred,
Dragging trailing consonants to their deaths
Along the continuum of puffery
And then she stepped on the charactered floors
A Wireless God
A crucifix, an ikon on the shelf -
But how does Talk Guy venerate himself?
“But They Didn’t Let Me Finish!”
For Isaac Babel
Babel, you hated Russian, Pole, and Jew
You wrote the same old bigotry, nothing new
You wrote as you were told, in ink all Red
In gratitude dear Stalin shot you dead
Kennkarte
In Hitler’s time the Kennkarte was required
As proof that Aryan blood had not been
mired
By interbreeding with us lesser folk
Thus contaminating that Nordic yolk
The Kennkarte…
Once properly despised as grievous sin
But now…
Who dreamed the Kennkarte would be back
again?
mhall46184@aol.com
Abercrombie & Wal-Mart
As vain as any Paris boulevardier
The mighty hunter stalks the latest fashion
The latest camouflage is his only way
If it’s declasse’, his face turns ashen
When hunting wary deer through mud and mire
He must have a new suit of latest sheen
For all of his good buddies to admire
In leaf-mold green - so that he won’t be seen!
Blocking Progress
We must shore up crumbling institutions
Not because they are crumbling
Or even because they are institutions
But because they are right
A Republic
No God and no kings, no givers of rings
Only the scripted yelpings of a mob
Admiring each other’s piercings and tats
By the flickering light of burning books
Premium Unleaded Dinosaur
Drive faster, farther, more and more!
The gas tank’s full of dinosaur -
Faster than feet, faster than mules,
Just gotta love those fossil fuels!
Teach a Man to Fish
Give a man a fish and he’ll eat that day
Teach a man to fish and then he will say
“Forget this; gimme another ****ed fish.”
Prose and Poetry
Prose is nothing more than an untanned hide
From a bunny rabbit beaten to death
With a large stick, a rock, an unwashed fist
Poetry is a Sheffield-crafted knife
Well-sharpened and well-oiled, a work of art
Carefully cradled in an artisan’s hand
A Windy Day in Rome
If hungry children ask their father for bread
Will he then give them climate lectures instead?
These Floors Have Character
“These floorrrrrrrrs have characterrrrrr,” the
buyer purrrrrred,
Dragging trailing consonants to their deaths
Along the continuum of puffery
And then she stepped on the charactered floors
A Wireless God
A crucifix, an ikon on the shelf -
But how does Talk Guy venerate himself?
“But They Didn’t Let Me Finish!”
For Isaac Babel
Babel, you hated Russian, Pole, and Jew
You wrote the same old bigotry, nothing new
You wrote as you were told, in ink all Red
In gratitude dear Stalin shot you dead
Kennkarte
In Hitler’s time the Kennkarte was required
As proof that Aryan blood had not been
mired
By interbreeding with us lesser folk
Thus contaminating that Nordic yolk
The Kennkarte…
Once properly despised as grievous sin
But now…
Who dreamed the Kennkarte would be back
again?
Feles Arcana
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Feles Arcana
A misty, mournful, mysterious dusk
In the far west, a dying, paling glow
Overhead, a cold, sinister half-moon
The back yard darkens to an evil grey
Cats sit eerily, silent, motionless
Posed in different artistic attitudes
Like statues in a murky pagan temple
They wait, they watch, they listen;
they do not move
Are they waiting for the ancient Cat-Goddess?
Do they ponder the end of Man and Time?
Is this the hour they worship dark powers?
Do they listen for voices from the nether world?
Sarah says they’re waiting to be fed
Women are like that
mhall46184@aol.com
Feles Arcana
A misty, mournful, mysterious dusk
In the far west, a dying, paling glow
Overhead, a cold, sinister half-moon
The back yard darkens to an evil grey
Cats sit eerily, silent, motionless
Posed in different artistic attitudes
Like statues in a murky pagan temple
They wait, they watch, they listen;
they do not move
Are they waiting for the ancient Cat-Goddess?
Do they ponder the end of Man and Time?
Is this the hour they worship dark powers?
Do they listen for voices from the nether world?
Sarah says they’re waiting to be fed
Women are like that
Advent at the Dollar Store
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Advent at the Dollar Store
The boozy, roachy desperation of
the unswept dollar store’s cellophane dreams
At Prices You’ll Love boxes of oilless
popcorn poppers deep-fat fryers massagers
to sweeten generational desperation
behind the counter cigarettes locked up
We Cash Work And Welfare Checks can’t afford
our own homes so we console ourselves with
electric hair-curlers and boxes of chips
singing NFL coffee machines
shiny new bicycles to be stolen
before the end of January or
left out to rust in the February rain
dusty plastic holly shiny CD
players for the administration of
anesthesia Jumbo Bargain Gift Wrap
for Your Happy Holiday Shopping Pleasure
No Shirt No Shoes No Service No, No, No
Hyphenated Industries of Chicago,
Tokyo, Seoul, and Taipei wishes us
a Merry Christmas
mhall46184@aol.com
Advent at the Dollar Store
The boozy, roachy desperation of
the unswept dollar store’s cellophane dreams
At Prices You’ll Love boxes of oilless
popcorn poppers deep-fat fryers massagers
to sweeten generational desperation
behind the counter cigarettes locked up
We Cash Work And Welfare Checks can’t afford
our own homes so we console ourselves with
electric hair-curlers and boxes of chips
singing NFL coffee machines
shiny new bicycles to be stolen
before the end of January or
left out to rust in the February rain
dusty plastic holly shiny CD
players for the administration of
anesthesia Jumbo Bargain Gift Wrap
for Your Happy Holiday Shopping Pleasure
No Shirt No Shoes No Service No, No, No
Hyphenated Industries of Chicago,
Tokyo, Seoul, and Taipei wishes us
a Merry Christmas
Haiku for Autumn
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Haiku for Autumn
Autumn grass browning
Pale, cold, high, austere blue skies
Children in Sweaters
An early chilling
Brisk north wind blowing away
Summer’s hot dampness
Autumn and a pipe
Smoked under a hill-top oak
Watching the geese fly
Early, icy fogs
In the rotting wood hollows
Wind in the pine tops
Men smoke, chew, and talk
Shotguns, dogs, woods, trucks, and bucks -
Almost deer season!
mhall46184@aol.com
Haiku for Autumn
Autumn grass browning
Pale, cold, high, austere blue skies
Children in Sweaters
An early chilling
Brisk north wind blowing away
Summer’s hot dampness
Autumn and a pipe
Smoked under a hill-top oak
Watching the geese fly
Early, icy fogs
In the rotting wood hollows
Wind in the pine tops
Men smoke, chew, and talk
Shotguns, dogs, woods, trucks, and bucks -
Almost deer season!
Existential Identity Crisis in the Student Commons
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Existential Identity Crisis
in the Student Commons
He wears a little plastic cap that says
Harley-Davidson
He wears a tee that says
Texas A & M
(he’s enrolled in Angelina College)
He wears a jacks that says
Go Climb a Glacier
He wears on the jacket a patch that says
Scorpio
He wears a belt-buckle that says
Peterbilt
He Wears a belt that says
John 3:16
He wears sneakers that say
Adidas
He carries a bag that says
Tennis is My Racket
He says
That he’s suffering an identity crisis
mhall46184@aol.com
Existential Identity Crisis
in the Student Commons
He wears a little plastic cap that says
Harley-Davidson
He wears a tee that says
Texas A & M
(he’s enrolled in Angelina College)
He wears a jacks that says
Go Climb a Glacier
He wears on the jacket a patch that says
Scorpio
He wears a belt-buckle that says
Peterbilt
He Wears a belt that says
John 3:16
He wears sneakers that say
Adidas
He carries a bag that says
Tennis is My Racket
He says
That he’s suffering an identity crisis
Three Short Poems from Viet-Nam
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Intensive Care Unit
A twilight world
A mad world
Peering down infected wounds
Mortars night building shiver
Down from the black sky flares float
Broken bodies from a few klicks away
Eyes of a shattered nineteen-year-old Marine
Staring at the door to Yokosuka
R & R in Sydney
On the corner of Bridge and Pitts
The wind is chilly, and little raindrops alight
On his spectacles
Sydney-siders dressed warmly in dark suits
And dark waistcoats
And dark raincoats
And carrying dark umbrellas
Bustle about, coming and going
Purposefully walking here and there
The skinny American in a pullover
And thin slacks
Shivers conspicuously
And marvels: this is July!
On the Corner of Bridge and Pitts
September on the Vam Co Tay
Rain is drizzling on the River
And the whole world has gone grey
Amid the muck and mud and sandbags
Stinking and hot and effing miserable
On the Cambodian border
But the chlorine-mud coffee is warm
And they usually don’t shoot us
in the daylight
And The World is only
Fifty-three days away
mhall46184@aol.com
Intensive Care Unit
A twilight world
A mad world
Peering down infected wounds
Mortars night building shiver
Down from the black sky flares float
Broken bodies from a few klicks away
Eyes of a shattered nineteen-year-old Marine
Staring at the door to Yokosuka
R & R in Sydney
On the corner of Bridge and Pitts
The wind is chilly, and little raindrops alight
On his spectacles
Sydney-siders dressed warmly in dark suits
And dark waistcoats
And dark raincoats
And carrying dark umbrellas
Bustle about, coming and going
Purposefully walking here and there
The skinny American in a pullover
And thin slacks
Shivers conspicuously
And marvels: this is July!
On the Corner of Bridge and Pitts
September on the Vam Co Tay
Rain is drizzling on the River
And the whole world has gone grey
Amid the muck and mud and sandbags
Stinking and hot and effing miserable
On the Cambodian border
But the chlorine-mud coffee is warm
And they usually don’t shoot us
in the daylight
And The World is only
Fifty-three days away
The First Day of Summer
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
The 21st of June
Summer begins at eleven thirty-five
Say the boys in white coats. Oh, what a jive;
‘Cause that’s not the date it can ever arrive
Every school child knows summer comes alive
On the last day of school, at three thirty-five!
mhall46184@aol.com
The 21st of June
Summer begins at eleven thirty-five
Say the boys in white coats. Oh, what a jive;
‘Cause that’s not the date it can ever arrive
Every school child knows summer comes alive
On the last day of school, at three thirty-five!
Geriatric Park
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Geriatric Park
Yes, two by two aboard old Noah’s ark
Saved from the Flood, like the little skylark
And happy little dogs who run and bark
The poor, unfortunate, clumsy aardvark
And worse, the sleepless carnivorous shark
Another sad species to disembark
Who should perhaps have been left in the dark
Prehistoric creatures, slow off the mark
Who lurk in the Faculty Commons (now mark!)
Far better known as Geriatric Park
mhall46184@aol.com
Geriatric Park
Yes, two by two aboard old Noah’s ark
Saved from the Flood, like the little skylark
And happy little dogs who run and bark
The poor, unfortunate, clumsy aardvark
And worse, the sleepless carnivorous shark
Another sad species to disembark
Who should perhaps have been left in the dark
Prehistoric creatures, slow off the mark
Who lurk in the Faculty Commons (now mark!)
Far better known as Geriatric Park
Some Aspects of Popular Culture in Couplets
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Some Aspects of Popular Culture
Gilligan’s Island
With Ginger’s come-hither and Mary Ann’s smile
Why would anyone leave Gilligan’s isle?
Hogan’s Heroes
Plenty to eat, and stealing Schultz’s gun
The Second World War was sure lots of fun1
Did Samuel Colt Know About This?
John Wayne blasts the robbers right off the road
With a revolver he never needs to re-load
N.C.I.S.
Unlimited firepower to shoot every jerk
And never, ever any paperwork
Robin Hood
Richard Greene as Robin wins all his fights
But get a load of Marian workin’ those tights!
Dancing With the Stars
We’d love to see who wins the trophy cup
If only the judges would just shut up!
1Irony, Ms. Grundy, irony
mhall46184@aol.com
Some Aspects of Popular Culture
Gilligan’s Island
With Ginger’s come-hither and Mary Ann’s smile
Why would anyone leave Gilligan’s isle?
Hogan’s Heroes
Plenty to eat, and stealing Schultz’s gun
The Second World War was sure lots of fun1
Did Samuel Colt Know About This?
John Wayne blasts the robbers right off the road
With a revolver he never needs to re-load
N.C.I.S.
Unlimited firepower to shoot every jerk
And never, ever any paperwork
Robin Hood
Richard Greene as Robin wins all his fights
But get a load of Marian workin’ those tights!
Dancing With the Stars
We’d love to see who wins the trophy cup
If only the judges would just shut up!
1Irony, Ms. Grundy, irony
Freshman Year on the G.I. Bill
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Freshman Year on the G.I. Bill, I
From the pages of Mohammed and Charlemagne
To the porch to smoke and watch the rain
Falling in the dark afternoon, down, down
In a pitter-patter splatter
Car windows up, room windows down
Coffee warming on the stove,
lightning over the town
And raindrops breaking on the pavement
Like little dreams
Freshman Year on the G.I. Bill, II
The instructor talks about
Wellington at Waterloo
The British Square
Napoleon’s hemorrhoids
One student thinks about
The boat on fire
And bodies on the deck
Only a few months ago
mhall46184@aol.com
Freshman Year on the G.I. Bill, I
From the pages of Mohammed and Charlemagne
To the porch to smoke and watch the rain
Falling in the dark afternoon, down, down
In a pitter-patter splatter
Car windows up, room windows down
Coffee warming on the stove,
lightning over the town
And raindrops breaking on the pavement
Like little dreams
Freshman Year on the G.I. Bill, II
The instructor talks about
Wellington at Waterloo
The British Square
Napoleon’s hemorrhoids
One student thinks about
The boat on fire
And bodies on the deck
Only a few months ago
Joey
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Joey
A Joey is a baby kangaroo
He first begins to hop at the age of two
Or maybe even earlier; who can know?
But what a happy, hopping, happening show!
He hops and hops and flops all over the floor
And then he hops right out the wide front door
To hop around the lawn and leafy trees
And hop right past some buzzing busy bees
What marvelous, magical hopping powers!
He hops all through the sunlit summer hours
Until it’s time for bath and book and bed
When hopping dreams hop through his sleepy
head
And of this tale, what is the hoppiest part?
Our little Joey hops - into my heart
mhall46184@aol.com
Joey
A Joey is a baby kangaroo
He first begins to hop at the age of two
Or maybe even earlier; who can know?
But what a happy, hopping, happening show!
He hops and hops and flops all over the floor
And then he hops right out the wide front door
To hop around the lawn and leafy trees
And hop right past some buzzing busy bees
What marvelous, magical hopping powers!
He hops all through the sunlit summer hours
Until it’s time for bath and book and bed
When hopping dreams hop through his sleepy
head
And of this tale, what is the hoppiest part?
Our little Joey hops - into my heart
And Even More Things People Never Say
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
And Even More Things People Never Say
“Yogurt – it’s what’s for dinner.”
“I’m sure glad our federal government went after those soccer people in Yurp. The international soccer organizations should learn about fair play and honest dealing from all our fine American internet service providers.”
“Chicken – it tastes a little like rattlesnake.”
“The poems of Anna Akhmatova are just too frivolous and silly for me. Good enough for teens, maybe, but I prefer deeper stuff, like Rod McKuen.”
“We didn’t miss you in church last Sunday.”
“Time to rise and shine, and greet the new night.”
“I’m as fit as a bassoon.”
“I’m hoping Santa Claus brings me a copy of Eugenio Corti’s The Red Horse trilogy for Christmas.”
“The other day I saw a Supreme Court justice reading The Bible.”
“And, if you call now, we’ll add 15% to the price!”
“Trouble is not my middle name.”
“Aw, Mom, why can’t I go to bed early and get a good night’s sleep!?”
“You know, I really miss Dan Rather and Brian Williams.”
“I’m just not doing my job, ma’am.”
“Don’t bother covering me. I’m not going in.”
“Margaret Sanger for the twenty-dollar-bill, just to prove that we women can be as genocidal as men!”
“I was born not ready.”
“I can’t explain. This is exactly what it looks like.”
“You’ll probably get away with this.”
“There are probably several things you and anybody else can do to stop me.”
“You’ll never take me alive! Or maybe you will.”
“You look as if you haven’t seen a ghost.”
“Fire in the convexity!”
“You listen to me, and you listen good, because I’m going to say this only three or four times…”
“Is this some kind of healthy joke?”
“If there’s anything Beaumont businesses are known for, it’s good customer service.”
“I’m just fine without my Blue Bell™. Really. I’m okay…”
-30-
Mhall46184@aol.com
And Even More Things People Never Say
“Yogurt – it’s what’s for dinner.”
“I’m sure glad our federal government went after those soccer people in Yurp. The international soccer organizations should learn about fair play and honest dealing from all our fine American internet service providers.”
“Chicken – it tastes a little like rattlesnake.”
“The poems of Anna Akhmatova are just too frivolous and silly for me. Good enough for teens, maybe, but I prefer deeper stuff, like Rod McKuen.”
“We didn’t miss you in church last Sunday.”
“Time to rise and shine, and greet the new night.”
“I’m as fit as a bassoon.”
“I’m hoping Santa Claus brings me a copy of Eugenio Corti’s The Red Horse trilogy for Christmas.”
“The other day I saw a Supreme Court justice reading The Bible.”
“And, if you call now, we’ll add 15% to the price!”
“Trouble is not my middle name.”
“Aw, Mom, why can’t I go to bed early and get a good night’s sleep!?”
“You know, I really miss Dan Rather and Brian Williams.”
“I’m just not doing my job, ma’am.”
“Don’t bother covering me. I’m not going in.”
“Margaret Sanger for the twenty-dollar-bill, just to prove that we women can be as genocidal as men!”
“I was born not ready.”
“I can’t explain. This is exactly what it looks like.”
“You’ll probably get away with this.”
“There are probably several things you and anybody else can do to stop me.”
“You’ll never take me alive! Or maybe you will.”
“You look as if you haven’t seen a ghost.”
“Fire in the convexity!”
“You listen to me, and you listen good, because I’m going to say this only three or four times…”
“Is this some kind of healthy joke?”
“If there’s anything Beaumont businesses are known for, it’s good customer service.”
“I’m just fine without my Blue Bell™. Really. I’m okay…”
-30-
NIGHT OF TERROR ABOARD DOOMED AIRCRAFT!!!!!!
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
NIGHT OF TERROR ABOARD
DOOMED AIRCRAFT!!!!!!!!!!!
(Or something like that)
No, this is not a story about Air Canada flight attendants. If it were, “sneering disdain” and “snarling ill manners” would be added to the title.
Last week a Famous Name Brand airplane en route from Chicago to London made one of those famous unscheduled stops in Gander, Newfoundland because of an undisclosed malfunction. The desperate selfies / mefies / tweeties of the surviving passengers lead the free world to conclude that this was a Jade Helm kidnapping of Americans by unmarked invisible NATO / UN ninjas armed with deadly pictures of Miley Jenner twerking.
The Jade Helm operatives and their unmarked, green-powered nuclear tanks had been lurking in ambush in a series of abandoned Tim Horton’s restaurants across the frozen lunar landscape that is Newfoundland, home only to reindeer and venomous snow snakes. Eh.
Upon landing the passengers were brutally yanked out of the aircraft by knuckle-dragging OGPU agents and then flogged into icy barracks to be starved and humiliated. Such brutal maltreatment has not been inflicted on suffering people since the last of Uncle Joe Stalin’s merry gulags was shut down in the 1960s.
If any of this can be proven, the American Transportation Security Agency will have something to say about it because humiliating airline passengers is their job. As for depriving airline passengers of food, that’s Air Canada’s job.
The only comfort that can be offered to the friends and relatives of the prisoners of Jade Helm is that there is no evidence that they were forced to drink Screech rum.
The passengers were housed – possibly chained - overnight in (gasp!) barracks built by the United States Air Force. The beds were said to be uncomfortable (eeeeek!), and the inmates were given only two blankets each (oh, the humanity!).
Beyond the barbed wire the prisoners could see demented I’s d’ B’ys beating spotted owls to death with cricket bats. In Newfoundland, you see, this is their idea of a night out at Hooter’s. (Oh, I am so not going to be asked back to Newfoundland…)
As the prison barracks began to sink beneath the dark, barren wastes of bleak, icy, frozen, Godforsaken Newfoundland, the brave young men gave their blankies to women and children, and everyone held hands and sang “Nearer, my God to Thee” as Kommandant Klink accompanied them on the violin. Or maybe it was something about Gilligan’s Island – “…the Minnow would be lost…the Minnow would be lost…”
One news report said that the air crew were billeted in a hotel in Newfoundland and Labrador. This would require a demonstration of bi-location since Newfoundland is an island and Labrador is part of the Canadian mainland. The Canadian federal government, which at times can be as unclear about reality as the U.S. federal government, forced a marriage of hyphenation so that Newfoundland (which is an island about the size of Ireland) and Labrador (which is not) are on the map as one province. This is no more logical than declaring Texas and Florida to be one state.
The passengers were jealous that The Captain and Gilligan and all the rest of the flight crew got to sleep in a hotel instead of a genuine United States Air Force barracks. Yeah, and the captain and the co-pilot get to sit up front in the airplane all the time – what’s up with that, hah?
The logical passenger wants to the pilot to be well-rested, well-fed, and content with life. Passengers should be able to sit in on a job interview with the flight deck crew before every flight: “Did you get plenty of sleep last night? So how’s your personal life? Meet anyone nice lately? What are your plans for the future? Have you ever flown for Lufthansa? Were you ever a flight attendant for Air Canada?”
Two realities obtain: the first one is that whiny people whine on the whiny MeFaceSpaceBook thingies about everything. If you were to give them a new Mercedes-Benz they’d belly-ache about the paint job.
The second reality is that Newfoundland is one of the most beautiful islands on the planet. The people of Newfoundland are unquestionably the nicest group of folks anywhere, generous and hospitable, and still fond of us Yanks. Any Tim Horton’s has the best road coffee along the Trans-Can, not everyone in Newfoundland ends every sentence with “eh,” they’ve got icebergs and whales and mountains and camping and boat tours and cruise ships and universities and shopping malls and hunting and those really stupid mooses and the railway trail for walking and Gros Morne National Park and fresh fish, fish, fish and puffins (please don’t eat the puffins) and the site of Lord Baltimore’s first colony and history and culture and music and art and a ‘way-cool provincial flag.
Newfoundland does not have any snakes, mosquitoes, or stinging insects, thus proving it is not Texas.
If on a map you draw a line from Houston to London you’ll find that Newfoundland is on the way but most folks don’t think of visiting there, and that is a shame. You can look up Newfoundland at www.newfoundlandandlabrador.com.
Stuck for a day or two in Newfoundland? We should all be so lucky.
-30-
Mhall46184@aol.com
NIGHT OF TERROR ABOARD
DOOMED AIRCRAFT!!!!!!!!!!!
(Or something like that)
No, this is not a story about Air Canada flight attendants. If it were, “sneering disdain” and “snarling ill manners” would be added to the title.
Last week a Famous Name Brand airplane en route from Chicago to London made one of those famous unscheduled stops in Gander, Newfoundland because of an undisclosed malfunction. The desperate selfies / mefies / tweeties of the surviving passengers lead the free world to conclude that this was a Jade Helm kidnapping of Americans by unmarked invisible NATO / UN ninjas armed with deadly pictures of Miley Jenner twerking.
The Jade Helm operatives and their unmarked, green-powered nuclear tanks had been lurking in ambush in a series of abandoned Tim Horton’s restaurants across the frozen lunar landscape that is Newfoundland, home only to reindeer and venomous snow snakes. Eh.
Upon landing the passengers were brutally yanked out of the aircraft by knuckle-dragging OGPU agents and then flogged into icy barracks to be starved and humiliated. Such brutal maltreatment has not been inflicted on suffering people since the last of Uncle Joe Stalin’s merry gulags was shut down in the 1960s.
If any of this can be proven, the American Transportation Security Agency will have something to say about it because humiliating airline passengers is their job. As for depriving airline passengers of food, that’s Air Canada’s job.
The only comfort that can be offered to the friends and relatives of the prisoners of Jade Helm is that there is no evidence that they were forced to drink Screech rum.
The passengers were housed – possibly chained - overnight in (gasp!) barracks built by the United States Air Force. The beds were said to be uncomfortable (eeeeek!), and the inmates were given only two blankets each (oh, the humanity!).
Beyond the barbed wire the prisoners could see demented I’s d’ B’ys beating spotted owls to death with cricket bats. In Newfoundland, you see, this is their idea of a night out at Hooter’s. (Oh, I am so not going to be asked back to Newfoundland…)
As the prison barracks began to sink beneath the dark, barren wastes of bleak, icy, frozen, Godforsaken Newfoundland, the brave young men gave their blankies to women and children, and everyone held hands and sang “Nearer, my God to Thee” as Kommandant Klink accompanied them on the violin. Or maybe it was something about Gilligan’s Island – “…the Minnow would be lost…the Minnow would be lost…”
One news report said that the air crew were billeted in a hotel in Newfoundland and Labrador. This would require a demonstration of bi-location since Newfoundland is an island and Labrador is part of the Canadian mainland. The Canadian federal government, which at times can be as unclear about reality as the U.S. federal government, forced a marriage of hyphenation so that Newfoundland (which is an island about the size of Ireland) and Labrador (which is not) are on the map as one province. This is no more logical than declaring Texas and Florida to be one state.
The passengers were jealous that The Captain and Gilligan and all the rest of the flight crew got to sleep in a hotel instead of a genuine United States Air Force barracks. Yeah, and the captain and the co-pilot get to sit up front in the airplane all the time – what’s up with that, hah?
The logical passenger wants to the pilot to be well-rested, well-fed, and content with life. Passengers should be able to sit in on a job interview with the flight deck crew before every flight: “Did you get plenty of sleep last night? So how’s your personal life? Meet anyone nice lately? What are your plans for the future? Have you ever flown for Lufthansa? Were you ever a flight attendant for Air Canada?”
Two realities obtain: the first one is that whiny people whine on the whiny MeFaceSpaceBook thingies about everything. If you were to give them a new Mercedes-Benz they’d belly-ache about the paint job.
The second reality is that Newfoundland is one of the most beautiful islands on the planet. The people of Newfoundland are unquestionably the nicest group of folks anywhere, generous and hospitable, and still fond of us Yanks. Any Tim Horton’s has the best road coffee along the Trans-Can, not everyone in Newfoundland ends every sentence with “eh,” they’ve got icebergs and whales and mountains and camping and boat tours and cruise ships and universities and shopping malls and hunting and those really stupid mooses and the railway trail for walking and Gros Morne National Park and fresh fish, fish, fish and puffins (please don’t eat the puffins) and the site of Lord Baltimore’s first colony and history and culture and music and art and a ‘way-cool provincial flag.
Newfoundland does not have any snakes, mosquitoes, or stinging insects, thus proving it is not Texas.
If on a map you draw a line from Houston to London you’ll find that Newfoundland is on the way but most folks don’t think of visiting there, and that is a shame. You can look up Newfoundland at www.newfoundlandandlabrador.com.
Stuck for a day or two in Newfoundland? We should all be so lucky.
-30-
We'll Always Have Hagen-Daz - Yet More Things People Never Say
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
We’ll Always Have Hagen-Daz –
Yet More Things People Never Say
“Well, I’m not an engineer, so when the Texas Department of Transportation posts a 75 mph speed zone on a narrow, two-lane rural road that doesn’t even have a shoulder I’m sure they know what they’re doing.”
“June is not too early for back-to-school advertisements.”
“These new, made-in-China belts you’ve got on sale – were they made in Shanghai by prisoners or were they made in Shanghai of prisoners?”
“Is it just me, or is it true that the quality of movies has really gone up in the past few years?”
“We were saving up for a vacation in Hawaii, but have decided instead to visit Hagia Sophia in Constantinople.”
“I’m not worth a darn in the morning until I’ve had that first cup of lapsang souchong.”
“As a man I really appreciate those story radio ads that depict the husband, father, or boyfriend as an idiot. They’re imaginative, original, well-written, and well-spoken, and make me want to go right to that store and buy something.”
“Whenever I think of the TSA I get a warm, fuzzy feeling all over.”
“I’m sure glad our federal government went after those soccer people in Europe. Our domestic narco-terrorism can wait.”
“This computer has been doing me good for about ten years now, and I expect to get another ten years out of it.”
“Jade Helm – isn’t that one of those cheap aftershaves?”
“Mom, Dad, it’s not fair! Why won’t you let me read the poetry of John Keats or the short stories of Anton Chekhov? I’m tired of all those dumb video games you make play!”
“Sir, I have to ask you if your meal in our restaurant was okay, but really our company’s real customer service policy is from Rawhide: ‘Head ‘em up! Move ‘em out!’”
“A cigar, but not close.”
“Russian novels always help me find my happy place.”
“No real butter for my toast; give me one of those plastic tubs of yellow-stained grease, please.”
“I always vote in my local school board elections.”
“Am I tired of the time-wasting rhetorical technique of the speaker asking himself a question and then answering it? Absolutely!”
“Am I tired of people answering a question with ‘absolutely’ instead of a simple ‘yes?’ Absolutely!”
“Saudi Arabia is a solid ally, maybe the best friend this nation has.”
“The kids laughed so hard when Bambi’s mother died!”
“I was born and raised Texas tough, like a pickup truck commercial, and I’m okay with Hagen-Daz ice cream.”
-30-
Mhall46184@aol.com
We’ll Always Have Hagen-Daz –
Yet More Things People Never Say
“Well, I’m not an engineer, so when the Texas Department of Transportation posts a 75 mph speed zone on a narrow, two-lane rural road that doesn’t even have a shoulder I’m sure they know what they’re doing.”
“June is not too early for back-to-school advertisements.”
“These new, made-in-China belts you’ve got on sale – were they made in Shanghai by prisoners or were they made in Shanghai of prisoners?”
“Is it just me, or is it true that the quality of movies has really gone up in the past few years?”
“We were saving up for a vacation in Hawaii, but have decided instead to visit Hagia Sophia in Constantinople.”
“I’m not worth a darn in the morning until I’ve had that first cup of lapsang souchong.”
“As a man I really appreciate those story radio ads that depict the husband, father, or boyfriend as an idiot. They’re imaginative, original, well-written, and well-spoken, and make me want to go right to that store and buy something.”
“Whenever I think of the TSA I get a warm, fuzzy feeling all over.”
“I’m sure glad our federal government went after those soccer people in Europe. Our domestic narco-terrorism can wait.”
“This computer has been doing me good for about ten years now, and I expect to get another ten years out of it.”
“Jade Helm – isn’t that one of those cheap aftershaves?”
“Mom, Dad, it’s not fair! Why won’t you let me read the poetry of John Keats or the short stories of Anton Chekhov? I’m tired of all those dumb video games you make play!”
“Sir, I have to ask you if your meal in our restaurant was okay, but really our company’s real customer service policy is from Rawhide: ‘Head ‘em up! Move ‘em out!’”
“A cigar, but not close.”
“Russian novels always help me find my happy place.”
“No real butter for my toast; give me one of those plastic tubs of yellow-stained grease, please.”
“I always vote in my local school board elections.”
“Am I tired of the time-wasting rhetorical technique of the speaker asking himself a question and then answering it? Absolutely!”
“Am I tired of people answering a question with ‘absolutely’ instead of a simple ‘yes?’ Absolutely!”
“Saudi Arabia is a solid ally, maybe the best friend this nation has.”
“The kids laughed so hard when Bambi’s mother died!”
“I was born and raised Texas tough, like a pickup truck commercial, and I’m okay with Hagen-Daz ice cream.”
-30-
Hey, We've Still got That Other Ice Cream - Yet More Things People Never Say
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Hey, We’ve Still got That Other Ice Cream –
Yet More Things People Never Say
“Let’s pull the envelope.”
“Fiction is stranger than truth.”
“We love our internet service provider. The service is excellent, the rates are reasonable, and on the rare occasions we contact customer service the representatives are polite and knowledgeable. We’ve heard that’s true with most internet companies.”
“Better to curse the candle than to darkness the light…or something.”
“Last week I was a high school senior and people were giving me stuff and telling me how wonderful I am; this week I’m just another unemployed adult. What happened?”
“Oh, the places you won’t go.”
“These cans of beans aren’t flying off the shelves at any price. Groceries don’t fly.”
“I’m waiting for the first shoe to drop.”
“I am not announcing my candidacy for the Republican nomination. I think there should be at least one American not running for president.”
“Don’t buy gold from us; if gold were a good investment we’d be keeping it for ourselves.”
“Our company is not on the cutting edge of anything.”
“No, I don’t want to change the world. I need to do a better job of changing myself before I presume to run a planet.”
“No fresh half-and-half or cream for my coffee; hand me a brittle packet of that bleached and dried seaweed.”
“I’ve had enough of Duggars, swamp people, duck guys, shrieking harridans, and the creepy old man who wears lingerie and thinks he’s a centerfold. Instead of tellyvision I take my kid to the public library every week to check out a book to bring home.”
“If there really is a such a thing as the bird flu, why do all the buzzards look so healthy?”
“Those rotten soccer people got what they deserve. As for me, I’m a good American and look to the NFL and ESPN for moral and ethical leadership.”
“Is it just me or is it true that drivers are more skilled and more responsible than ever?”
“This new detective novel will not have you sitting on the edge of your seat – that’s a very uncomfortable place to sit.”
“Maybe the company closed the store because it wasn’t profitable. Maybe it’s not a secret government plot to take over the country from itself. At least that’s what the Russian guys dressed in Ninja outfits driving around in an ice cream truck told me.”
“Buy the first two, and we’ll sell you the third at the same price.”
“Finally, as a tribute to the can-do frontier spirit of Texas: We’ve still got Ben and Jerry’s.”
-30-
Mhall46184@aol.com
Hey, We’ve Still got That Other Ice Cream –
Yet More Things People Never Say
“Let’s pull the envelope.”
“Fiction is stranger than truth.”
“We love our internet service provider. The service is excellent, the rates are reasonable, and on the rare occasions we contact customer service the representatives are polite and knowledgeable. We’ve heard that’s true with most internet companies.”
“Better to curse the candle than to darkness the light…or something.”
“Last week I was a high school senior and people were giving me stuff and telling me how wonderful I am; this week I’m just another unemployed adult. What happened?”
“Oh, the places you won’t go.”
“These cans of beans aren’t flying off the shelves at any price. Groceries don’t fly.”
“I’m waiting for the first shoe to drop.”
“I am not announcing my candidacy for the Republican nomination. I think there should be at least one American not running for president.”
“Don’t buy gold from us; if gold were a good investment we’d be keeping it for ourselves.”
“Our company is not on the cutting edge of anything.”
“No, I don’t want to change the world. I need to do a better job of changing myself before I presume to run a planet.”
“No fresh half-and-half or cream for my coffee; hand me a brittle packet of that bleached and dried seaweed.”
“I’ve had enough of Duggars, swamp people, duck guys, shrieking harridans, and the creepy old man who wears lingerie and thinks he’s a centerfold. Instead of tellyvision I take my kid to the public library every week to check out a book to bring home.”
“If there really is a such a thing as the bird flu, why do all the buzzards look so healthy?”
“Those rotten soccer people got what they deserve. As for me, I’m a good American and look to the NFL and ESPN for moral and ethical leadership.”
“Is it just me or is it true that drivers are more skilled and more responsible than ever?”
“This new detective novel will not have you sitting on the edge of your seat – that’s a very uncomfortable place to sit.”
“Maybe the company closed the store because it wasn’t profitable. Maybe it’s not a secret government plot to take over the country from itself. At least that’s what the Russian guys dressed in Ninja outfits driving around in an ice cream truck told me.”
“Buy the first two, and we’ll sell you the third at the same price.”
“Finally, as a tribute to the can-do frontier spirit of Texas: We’ve still got Ben and Jerry’s.”
-30-
Dialogue You Never Hear in Cowboy Movies
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dialogue You Never Hear in Cowboy Movies
“The jail hasn’t been built that can’t hold me.”
“I’ve been three months on the trail, and I’m parched from the alkali dust. Give me a nice cup of tea.”
“They’re cattle rustlers. We’re all going into town to discuss our issues and try to understand each other’s existential needs.”
“It’s not just a flesh wound.”
“We’re invitin’ you to a necktie party. All the coolest designers will be there with their autumn neckwear collections – Calvin Klein, Yves St. Laurent, Versace…”
“That’s the most dangerous stallion in the corral. He won’t be broken. He kicks. He bites. He’s put two cowboys in the hospital. His name is Fluffy.”
“Bugler - sound flip-flops and saddles!”
“I’ll be your huckleberry muffin.”
“This town’s probably big enough for the two of us.”
“They died with their open-toe sandals on.”
“That’s Beige Bart, the most mediocre hombre ever to stroll the streets of Dodge City.”
“I’ll see you in the street at high noon, marshal – wait, is that daylight savings time…?”
“Whiskey, bartender – and don’t leave the bottle.”
"I mean to hurt your feelings in one minute, Ned. Or see that you have therapy in Fort Smith at Judge Parker's convenience. Which'll it be?"
"I call that insensitive microaggression for a visually-impaired, overweight person!"
“When you say that, don’t smile.”
“I’ll see what the girls in the back room will have.”
“I’ve got a numb trigger finger.”
“We don’t have company.”
“Head ‘em down! Move ‘em in!”
“Eeeeeek! Native Americans!”
“Now Zeke, here, he’s into French New Wave. I wouldn’t bring up Italian cinema if I were you.”
“Had me a nice little Starbuck’s franchise in Tombstone…’til the Clantons moved in with their Panera Bread.”
“You be careful in the Bucket of Blood Saloon, Tex; I hear they can cut up rough over a game of chess.”
“We have an active shooting situation.”
“Hey, Shortbread! No steak and taters for me tonight. Just mix me up a nice salad.”
“Don’t shoot them rattlesnakes, Amarillo Slim; they’re an endangered species.”
“You caused a lot of trouble here today, pilgrim, and someone oughta punch you in the mouth. But I won’t. I won’t. Really, I won’t.”
“Indians, outlaws, stampedes, trail dust – I sure hope we get these here cows into Abilene in time for the Shakespeare Festival.”
“Yeah, that’s the new sheriff all right. ‘Course she’s only sheriffin’ until that job in graphics design opens up.”
“Why, heck, boys, I’d rather be hung by my friends than by a bunch of dang strangers…you know, that’s the stupidest line in fiction.”
-30-
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dialogue You Never Hear in Cowboy Movies
“The jail hasn’t been built that can’t hold me.”
“I’ve been three months on the trail, and I’m parched from the alkali dust. Give me a nice cup of tea.”
“They’re cattle rustlers. We’re all going into town to discuss our issues and try to understand each other’s existential needs.”
“It’s not just a flesh wound.”
“We’re invitin’ you to a necktie party. All the coolest designers will be there with their autumn neckwear collections – Calvin Klein, Yves St. Laurent, Versace…”
“That’s the most dangerous stallion in the corral. He won’t be broken. He kicks. He bites. He’s put two cowboys in the hospital. His name is Fluffy.”
“Bugler - sound flip-flops and saddles!”
“I’ll be your huckleberry muffin.”
“This town’s probably big enough for the two of us.”
“They died with their open-toe sandals on.”
“That’s Beige Bart, the most mediocre hombre ever to stroll the streets of Dodge City.”
“I’ll see you in the street at high noon, marshal – wait, is that daylight savings time…?”
“Whiskey, bartender – and don’t leave the bottle.”
"I mean to hurt your feelings in one minute, Ned. Or see that you have therapy in Fort Smith at Judge Parker's convenience. Which'll it be?"
"I call that insensitive microaggression for a visually-impaired, overweight person!"
“When you say that, don’t smile.”
“I’ll see what the girls in the back room will have.”
“I’ve got a numb trigger finger.”
“We don’t have company.”
“Head ‘em down! Move ‘em in!”
“Eeeeeek! Native Americans!”
“Now Zeke, here, he’s into French New Wave. I wouldn’t bring up Italian cinema if I were you.”
“Had me a nice little Starbuck’s franchise in Tombstone…’til the Clantons moved in with their Panera Bread.”
“You be careful in the Bucket of Blood Saloon, Tex; I hear they can cut up rough over a game of chess.”
“We have an active shooting situation.”
“Hey, Shortbread! No steak and taters for me tonight. Just mix me up a nice salad.”
“Don’t shoot them rattlesnakes, Amarillo Slim; they’re an endangered species.”
“You caused a lot of trouble here today, pilgrim, and someone oughta punch you in the mouth. But I won’t. I won’t. Really, I won’t.”
“Indians, outlaws, stampedes, trail dust – I sure hope we get these here cows into Abilene in time for the Shakespeare Festival.”
“Yeah, that’s the new sheriff all right. ‘Course she’s only sheriffin’ until that job in graphics design opens up.”
“Why, heck, boys, I’d rather be hung by my friends than by a bunch of dang strangers…you know, that’s the stupidest line in fiction.”
-30-
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