Sunday, August 2, 2015
A New Shirt - Poem
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
A New Shirt
Shirts are nice. They cover your funniness
Almost no one looks good without a shirt
Especially when you’re old and parts don’t fit
Quite like they did (listen to your looking-glass)
A store-new shirt is one of life’s little joys
You pull away the plastic clips and floof
The fabric out among its new-shirt smell
And praise yourself for your excellent taste
The cuffs and collar fold exactly right
And you look good today in your new shirt
The Death of Mortimer the Tomato
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
The Death of Mortimer the Tomato
The world remains outraged over the death of Mortimer the Tomato. Mortimer, beloved of everyone in England’s fens country, was slaughtered by an American vegan who hired two local guides to help him in his search for a prize tomato to kill, kill, kill.
The alleged murderer is Neville (Rockin’ Nev) Thistletwit, an inspirational singer-songwriter from New Orleans. Rockin’ Nev is unavailable for comment, and his former space on Jackson Square is currently occupied by Madame Zumba Sees All Knows All Astrologer to the Stars.
Reports from Peterborough indicate that the guides, Bert and Alf, lured Mortimer the Tomato from his sheltered bin by paying off a greengrocer with two pounds and ten pence. Once Mortimer was outside the shop, Rockin’ Nev cruelly dispatched the poor veggie (yes, yes, technically a tomato is a berry) with his Swiss Army Knife despite Mortimer’s erudite existential arguments about the circle of vegetative art.
Mortimer the Tomato died a slow, agonizing death, sort of like television network news.
School children all over the world are crayoning tearstained pictures of their hero and inspiration, Saint Mortimer the Martyred Tomato.
In Paris the sort of people who wear Che Guano tees are chanting “Je suis Mortimer the Tomato!”
The Cackling Woman Cookery Show on The Gourmand Channel has gone dark in mourning, and its quiches are being flown at half-mast for thirty minutes or until the crust is a delicious flakey brown.
In response to the tomato crisis the State of Texas directed all appraisal districts to raise property taxes again.
Rockin’ Nev’s selfie of himself and his lunch has gone as viral as junior high hallway gossip.
Protestors have blocked the Swiss embassy in London and are tying stuffed toy Mortimers to the fence in that all-purpose response to anything, a makeshift shrine, which is of course a contradiction. When one reporter asked a demonstrator if she could define the term shrine she filed charges of insensitivity against him. “We’re outraged that Switzerland promotes violence all over the world through its obscene manufacture of itty-bitty pocket knives, and you are interrupting my script with an appeal to rationality!” she shrieked.
According to Poncy Tworbst, BA, MA, Certified Grief Counselor, and Ordained Holistic Aromatherapist, consultant to Ferret News, “This is another example of a privileged supremacist vegan imposing his horticultural appropriation occupation syncopation vegicentrist views on a poor part of the world through his psychologically dubious quest for a trophy lunch.”
The Speaker of the House of Merovingians has called for hearings, ‘net mobs have called for the extradition of an American citizen based on ‘net gossip, and the Secretary of Defense has called for every commander to confiscate all provocative pocket knives from American sailors and soldiers.
That’s how we Americans roll – in every crisis we call for stuff.
In his morning minute Tim Brocaw said “I, I, I, me, me, me was once among tomatoes when I, I, I was a barefoot all-American lad in West Dakota and I, I, I am so special and aw-shucks cute.”
The Church of Elvis is re-naming itself The Church of Mortimer Tomato, and new streets will be named for Mortimer. Every morning all really sensitive Americans will pledge allegiance to Mortimer-ness, and statues of so-last-week American heroes will be pulled down and replaced with memorials to Mortimer the Great. There will be Mortimer the Tomato Editions of the Bible with commentaries by Mortimer the Tomato in the margins. The peoples of the world will unite in perpetual adoration of Mortimer the Tomato, and will forswear all food because rainbows, sunshine, and gluten-free air are all we really need for nutrition.
The relics of Saint Mortimer will be enshrined in Peterborough Cathedral. A basilica will be built over the site of his martyrdom, and will be consecrated by Kim Lohan with a sacred twerking.
All tomatoes everywhere will be allowed to roam wild and free in their natural habitat, and will not be murdered by filthy humans looking for an ego-boosting salad.
Justice for Mortimer the Tomato! The ‘Net Mob demands it!
And justice for murdered children? Nahhh.
-30-
Heat Stress
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Heat Stress
Now summer is a song without any words
Though midday silence in the dancing heat
Is music enough in this stasis time
When nothing moves across the face of noon
Not even an errant breeze to whisper hope
In the sun-blown desolation of July
Thus silence descants restless rests among
Notes fallen from a hymnal that was lost
Among the weeds and dust where once were dreams
But summer is a song without any words
Heat Inversion
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Heat Inversion
Summer collapses in upon itself
Inversions of thought wandering in the heat
Beaten into confusion’s minorpiece
As the planet orbits, wobbles, and spins
Like Icarus saucily taunting the sun
With importunities and insolence
Until a solar roar of outrage sends
Frail featherings of imagination
Falling into dizzying nothingness as
Summer collapses in upon itself
Back-to-School Shopping
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Back-to-School Shopping
Electronics and ear-buds on display
New jeans and tees, and the most-happening shoes
Tennis rackets and shorts for every day
Maybe even academic tattoos
Jewelry, sunglasses, feathers for one’s hair
Che Guano’s mug shot on a size small shirt
Cool Mickey ‘n’ Minnie themed underwear
A Class Of XX nose ring (that’s gotta hurt!
And that’s the latest faculty look
But no one ever dreams of buying a book
Dresscrossing - Poem
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dresscrossing
When asked if s/he were a transvestite
S/he replied, “Oh, no, that’s not right;
I’m English, and so a transwaistcoatite.”
Fete de la Raison
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Fete de la Raison
Personhood is the measure of a Lamborghini
Along with self-identification
The authentic voice of the marginalized
Because science can now work wonders these days
Only not with your crackers and grape juice
If you are told the sun rises in the west
Follow the sensitive conversation
Body parts. Who will buy my body parts
Freshly sexed-up pancreas for sale
Stuff is now the measure of personhood
A Frivolous Reflection on Power Cords
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Frivolous Reflection on Power Cords
Electrical cords are marvelous things
They slither voltaically without wings
To drag resistant ohms out of the walls
Then digest them along to light the halls
Make radios talk and tellys light up
And heat the coffee for a coffee cup
And make refrigerators thermodyme
AC in rhythmic Isaac Newton time
Lights all alight and a doorbell that rings:
Electrical cords are marvelous things
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Colonel Mustard, Miss Scarlett, and Donald Trump
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Politics According to Clue™
Even more than Wheel of 60 Minutes Fortune and Flip the Dancing Stars off this Island, the USA’s most popular and longest-running unreality show is politics. Back-to-school shopping begins in June, and football in August, but electioneering never ends. A presidential election is in itself little more than a brief pause between presidential election campaigns.
Baseball? Hot dogs? Apple strudel? Nope. What defines The Ye Olde Folksy New England Republic is a catalogue of people asking other people for money so that the first set of people can make more video ads.
This season is unusually loopy, lending itself to a new board game to help the players sort out politics, policy, and politics foreign and domestic. As a service to America, the auctor presents to a confused electorate (not that many of them ever vote anyway) a new board game, Campaign Clue™. Each game set contains:
10 character cards
President Obama
Donald Trump
Senator McCain
El Chapo
Vladimir Putin
Bernie Sanders
Senator Clinton
Edward Snowden
Hillary Clinton
Kim Jong Un
10 location cards
The White House Rose Garden
The Spratly Islands
St. Petersburg (Russia or Florida)
A Bridge in New Jersey
A Blue Bell factory
The dumpsters behind the Kremlin
The secret Jade Helm dungeons of doom beneath an abandoned Wal-Mart
A truck stopped for a traffic light in Calais
The Socorro Desert
A dimly lit Tim Horton’s down the street from the Toronto city hall
10 plastic weapons tokens
A pinata
Silly String
A stern editorial in The New York Times
A Confederate flag
A supercilious sneer
An indictment
Gender reassignment surgery
A Greek promissory note
A New Jersey Department of Transportation Traffic Cone
The Cosmic Hairpiece of Clinging Death
Each player takes a divvy of character cards, location cards, and plastic weapons tokens, dumps them into a foam cup from Captain Queeg’s, shakes them up, and pours them out in a meaningless pile. The players then talk about how much they miss Colonel Mustard, Miss Scarlett, the Professor, Ginger, Mary Ann, and the rest of the old gang.
-30-
Saturday, July 18, 2015
The Joyful Mysteries - Meditations for a Young Man
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
The Joyful Mysteries -
Meditations for a Young Man
I. The Annunciation
When Romans ruled, tetrarchs obeyed, the nights
Were given over to wonderings and dreams
An angel whispered to a girl “Fear not”
She made her choice, and history turned away
From failing, flailing, falling into mists
And looked again upon the morning sun
Beneath whose light the Jordan flowed, and days
Were given over to waiting and to work
For carpenters and fishermen who knew
Little of Rome, but much of suffering
II. The Visitation
In loving service to humanity
A girl, a woman now, another choice -
To leave her home to help, to love, to work
Her sweet Magnificat a hymn to us
A song of sweeping floors and making beds
And bringing in the goats for milking time
And laughter to the home of Elizabeth
A leap for joy expressed through busy hands
For maidens and mothers (and even men!) who knew
Little of Rome, but much of work and love
III. The Nativity
Now in reluctant service to the state
To render unto Caesar obedience
A little family once again leaves home
Following orders, not a star, and yet
There is a star. What is it telling them?
Suddenly – no thoughts for Caesars or stars
But only for a Child in exile born
Among the poor and humble of the earth
There to a weary young mother who knew
Too much of Rome, too much of doing without
IV. The Presentation
Now happily, in service to the Law
A going up, up to Jerusalem
A joyful journey to present the Child
Unto the Lord, and there two prophets spoke:
In holy Anna’s fasting, prayers, and words
And Simeon’s rejoicing “Nunc dimittis”
Of risings, fallings, swords, deliverance
The former world passing into the new
And for His Mother at the temple gate
No thought of Rome – but only of Her Son
V. Finding the Lord in the Temple
When Romans ruled, tetrarchs obeyed; the young
In faith and hope gave all their dreams to God
And listened for angelic whisperings
Not only in the night, but in their hearts
And Jesus grew to hear, to know, to teach
To search the hearts of young and old and find
Within them there the heartbeat of Himself
Our Lady kept these things within Her heart -
And, finally, even Romans kept them too
And so it was
And so it is
For you
mhall46184@aol.com
The Joyful Mysteries -
Meditations for a Young Man
I. The Annunciation
When Romans ruled, tetrarchs obeyed, the nights
Were given over to wonderings and dreams
An angel whispered to a girl “Fear not”
She made her choice, and history turned away
From failing, flailing, falling into mists
And looked again upon the morning sun
Beneath whose light the Jordan flowed, and days
Were given over to waiting and to work
For carpenters and fishermen who knew
Little of Rome, but much of suffering
II. The Visitation
In loving service to humanity
A girl, a woman now, another choice -
To leave her home to help, to love, to work
Her sweet Magnificat a hymn to us
A song of sweeping floors and making beds
And bringing in the goats for milking time
And laughter to the home of Elizabeth
A leap for joy expressed through busy hands
For maidens and mothers (and even men!) who knew
Little of Rome, but much of work and love
III. The Nativity
Now in reluctant service to the state
To render unto Caesar obedience
A little family once again leaves home
Following orders, not a star, and yet
There is a star. What is it telling them?
Suddenly – no thoughts for Caesars or stars
But only for a Child in exile born
Among the poor and humble of the earth
There to a weary young mother who knew
Too much of Rome, too much of doing without
IV. The Presentation
Now happily, in service to the Law
A going up, up to Jerusalem
A joyful journey to present the Child
Unto the Lord, and there two prophets spoke:
In holy Anna’s fasting, prayers, and words
And Simeon’s rejoicing “Nunc dimittis”
Of risings, fallings, swords, deliverance
The former world passing into the new
And for His Mother at the temple gate
No thought of Rome – but only of Her Son
V. Finding the Lord in the Temple
When Romans ruled, tetrarchs obeyed; the young
In faith and hope gave all their dreams to God
And listened for angelic whisperings
Not only in the night, but in their hearts
And Jesus grew to hear, to know, to teach
To search the hearts of young and old and find
Within them there the heartbeat of Himself
Our Lady kept these things within Her heart -
And, finally, even Romans kept them too
And so it was
And so it is
For you
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Cigar Boxes
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
History Lessons on a Cigar Box
Mark Antony preens in his Class-A best
Cleopatra is somewhat underdressed
The servant girl is not at all impressed
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Child’s First Safety-Deposit Box
A dime-store pocket watch that doesn’t run
A tiny magnifier for aiming the sun
A bit of chalk, glass marbles, crayon stubs
A pencil or two worn down to the nubs
A pair of dice gained in a school-yard trade
A cheap pocket knife with a broken blade
A pocket calendar from just last year
A bottle-opener that says “JAX BEER”
A shotgun hull, and little toy cars -
A box is for treasures, not Dad’s cigars!
Mhall46184@aol.com
History Lessons on a Cigar Box
Mark Antony preens in his Class-A best
Cleopatra is somewhat underdressed
The servant girl is not at all impressed
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Child’s First Safety-Deposit Box
A dime-store pocket watch that doesn’t run
A tiny magnifier for aiming the sun
A bit of chalk, glass marbles, crayon stubs
A pencil or two worn down to the nubs
A pair of dice gained in a school-yard trade
A cheap pocket knife with a broken blade
A pocket calendar from just last year
A bottle-opener that says “JAX BEER”
A shotgun hull, and little toy cars -
A box is for treasures, not Dad’s cigars!
Scrambled Eggs in Rainwater
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Scrambled Eggs in Rainwater
Field Medical Service School
Shivering in the rain, up in the hills
Of Sunny Southern California
Kerosene cookers and their gust-blown smoke
Squid-wet Corpsmen in flying wet slickers
Mess kits held out to sullen, cursing cooks
Slam-glopping glops of sausages and eggs
Cold coffee in aluminum canteen cups
No cover, no shelter for floating food
Or for sergeants bellowing in the dark –
And laughing through it all, for we were young
Mhall46184@aol.com
Scrambled Eggs in Rainwater
Field Medical Service School
Shivering in the rain, up in the hills
Of Sunny Southern California
Kerosene cookers and their gust-blown smoke
Squid-wet Corpsmen in flying wet slickers
Mess kits held out to sullen, cursing cooks
Slam-glopping glops of sausages and eggs
Cold coffee in aluminum canteen cups
No cover, no shelter for floating food
Or for sergeants bellowing in the dark –
And laughing through it all, for we were young
Mad Dogs and Mourning Doves
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Mad Dogs and Mourning Doves
go out in the Midday Sun
When nearly noon the old lawnmower is stilled
The unexpected silence is a pause
While an unseen conductor turns a page:
Morning cicadas yield the program to
The responsorial midday mourning doves
Who descant songs across the lonely fields
Whence midday heat has driven all but them
Exchanging love-notes through the drowsy hours
All unaware that when October comes
They’ll have to pack away their amphibrachs
Mhall46184@aol.com
Mad Dogs and Mourning Doves
go out in the Midday Sun
When nearly noon the old lawnmower is stilled
The unexpected silence is a pause
While an unseen conductor turns a page:
Morning cicadas yield the program to
The responsorial midday mourning doves
Who descant songs across the lonely fields
Whence midday heat has driven all but them
Exchanging love-notes through the drowsy hours
All unaware that when October comes
They’ll have to pack away their amphibrachs
A Course of Study
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Course of Study
Life is itself our university:
A table for study at a window
A book whose pages are bright autumn leaves
A laboratory of unexpectations
A hymn sung while stacking ammunition
A smile remembered while the coffee brews
A Christmas pocket knife lost long ago
A remembrance, a pain, a thought, a fear
And in the end a graduation hymn -
Life is itself is our university
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Course of Study
Life is itself our university:
A table for study at a window
A book whose pages are bright autumn leaves
A laboratory of unexpectations
A hymn sung while stacking ammunition
A smile remembered while the coffee brews
A Christmas pocket knife lost long ago
A remembrance, a pain, a thought, a fear
And in the end a graduation hymn -
Life is itself is our university
A Working Knowledge of Bed Frames
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Working Knowledge of Bed Frames
For assembling bed frames a craftsman needs
A hammer (because a mallet won’t do)
And a vocabulary of bad words
Bad you-go-rinse-your-mouth-out-with-soap words
For disassembling bed frames, well, the same:
A hammer (because a mallet won’t do)
And a vocabulary of bad words
Badder rinsing-your-mouth-out-with-soap words
Because cosmic conflict against metal frames
Requires a catalogue of soap-choking names!
Mhall46184@aol.com
A Working Knowledge of Bed Frames
For assembling bed frames a craftsman needs
A hammer (because a mallet won’t do)
And a vocabulary of bad words
Bad you-go-rinse-your-mouth-out-with-soap words
For disassembling bed frames, well, the same:
A hammer (because a mallet won’t do)
And a vocabulary of bad words
Badder rinsing-your-mouth-out-with-soap words
Because cosmic conflict against metal frames
Requires a catalogue of soap-choking names!
Life Begins at 111
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Life Begins at 111
Open a page, and dream into that world
Songs and merriment from the inn at Bree
The scent of flowers from far Lothlorien
And smoke rising from The Last Lonely House
A pack, a walking stick, a friend or two
Then step into the night, into the road
That does indeed go on and on
Mhall46184@aol.com
Life Begins at 111
Open a page, and dream into that world
Songs and merriment from the inn at Bree
The scent of flowers from far Lothlorien
And smoke rising from The Last Lonely House
A pack, a walking stick, a friend or two
Then step into the night, into the road
That does indeed go on and on
THE Calculus
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
THE Calculus
Why is there a math called THE calculus
Could there be a second one? Dubious
And there are so many maths to cuss
Algebra, for instance – what is the fuss?
To solve for X does not serve any purpuss
And one arithmetic, minus or plus
Geometry – useful but tedious
Each math is one, so nothing to discuss
So
Why is there a math call THE calculus?
mhall46184@aol.com
THE Calculus
Why is there a math called THE calculus
Could there be a second one? Dubious
And there are so many maths to cuss
Algebra, for instance – what is the fuss?
To solve for X does not serve any purpuss
And one arithmetic, minus or plus
Geometry – useful but tedious
Each math is one, so nothing to discuss
So
Why is there a math call THE calculus?
Canada Day? Just One?
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Canada Day? Just One?
With love from an ‘umble Yank
But every day is Canada Day!
The afternoon plane lands in Halifax
When the hatch is popped, cool air rushes in
Even the fog is happy in Canada
The Muskogee never made landfall here
And so we pilgrimage for her, complete
Her voyage from ’42 to Canada
Wolfville, Grand Pre’, Le Grande Derangement
The Deportation Cross and beer cans
Well, God forgive the Redcoats anyway
Newfoundland
Is a bold
Anapest
The church spires in a line, the light is green
The bold young captain shoots the narrows wild
Can you find your way to your painted house?
To walk again the cobbles of Ferryland
And smell the very blue of the Atlantic
The sea-blown wind is cold in Canada
Blue Puttees and a mourning Caribou
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord
Good children sing “We love thee, Newfoundland”
Quebec – royal city of New France
May Le Bon Dieu bless the Plains of Abraham,
And may God bless
The signs an English driver cannot read
The Coca-Cola streets of Niagara Falls
Yanks laugh at made-in-China Mountie mugs
And buy them, happy to be in Canada
A cup of Toujours Frais from – well, that place
But to us in your southern provinces
Below Niagara, Tim too is Canada
But Canada goes on; these scribbles must not -
Your grateful guest wishes only to say
That every happy day is Canada Day!
Mhall46184@aol.com
Canada Day? Just One?
With love from an ‘umble Yank
But every day is Canada Day!
The afternoon plane lands in Halifax
When the hatch is popped, cool air rushes in
Even the fog is happy in Canada
The Muskogee never made landfall here
And so we pilgrimage for her, complete
Her voyage from ’42 to Canada
Wolfville, Grand Pre’, Le Grande Derangement
The Deportation Cross and beer cans
Well, God forgive the Redcoats anyway
Newfoundland
Is a bold
Anapest
The church spires in a line, the light is green
The bold young captain shoots the narrows wild
Can you find your way to your painted house?
To walk again the cobbles of Ferryland
And smell the very blue of the Atlantic
The sea-blown wind is cold in Canada
Blue Puttees and a mourning Caribou
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord
Good children sing “We love thee, Newfoundland”
Quebec – royal city of New France
May Le Bon Dieu bless the Plains of Abraham,
And may God bless
The signs an English driver cannot read
The Coca-Cola streets of Niagara Falls
Yanks laugh at made-in-China Mountie mugs
And buy them, happy to be in Canada
A cup of Toujours Frais from – well, that place
But to us in your southern provinces
Below Niagara, Tim too is Canada
But Canada goes on; these scribbles must not -
Your grateful guest wishes only to say
That every happy day is Canada Day!
Dialogue Not Heard in Casablanca
Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dialogue Not Heard in Casablanca
“Of all the boutique coffee bars in all the gated communities in all the world…”
“Bluebirds, bluebirds! Bluebirds everywhere!”
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll be on the plane – it’ll take us that long to get through security.”
“Play it, Sam. Play ‘The Pilgrims’ Chorus’ from Tannhauser.”
“I don’t think I remember it, Miss Ilsa. Mostly because you never leave anything in the tip jar, you cheapskate.”
“I was informed that you were the most beautiful woman ever to visit Casablanca. Meh.”
“Oh, Rick – I’ll have to do the thinking for both us.”
“Round up some unusual suspects.”
“I’m making out the report now. We’re not sure if he committed suicide or was vaporized by Jade Helm ninja vampires in secret tunnels beneath an abandoned Circuit City in New Ulm.”
“I’m shocked! Shocked! To learn that Bible study is going on in here!”
“Aw, come on, you guys – doesn’t anyone in here know the words to the Marseillaise!?”
“I remember every detail – the North Vietnamese wore green; you wore a blue Che Guano tee-shirt.”
“Yes, I put that tee-shirt, knee-pants, and flip-flops away. When the North Vietnamese march out I’ll wear them again.”
“What makes baristas so snobbish?”
“Are you one of those people who cannot imagine English soccer fans in your beloved Newark?”
“Oh, no, Emile, please. A bottle of your best designer water, and put it on my bill.”
“Just a moment. I heard a rumor those two German couriers were carrying the latest Apple watches.”
“I don’t mind a parasite. I object to one who isn’t accredited by the BBB.”
“Ricky, I’m going to miss you. Apparently you’re the only one with less scruples than the Supreme Court.”
“Paula Deen and Bill Cosby walk into a bar…”
“And remember – this gun is pointed right at your pancreas.”
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but when you can’t get a refund on those tickets to Lisbon…”
“We’ll always have Caney Head.”
“I have already given him the best table, knowing that he is with the Clinton campaign and would take it anyway.”
“C’mon, Mr. Rick. We’ll get the car. We’ll drive all night. We’ll go fishing. We’ll wear togas! Partee! Partee!”
“Major Strasser has been tasered!”
“Here’s looking at you, kid. You know, that’s a really patronizing, sexist expression.”
“Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful limited-liability partnership.”
“I came to Casablanca for the Blue Bell ice cream…I was misinformed.”
-30-
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dialogue Not Heard in Casablanca
“Of all the boutique coffee bars in all the gated communities in all the world…”
“Bluebirds, bluebirds! Bluebirds everywhere!”
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll be on the plane – it’ll take us that long to get through security.”
“Play it, Sam. Play ‘The Pilgrims’ Chorus’ from Tannhauser.”
“I don’t think I remember it, Miss Ilsa. Mostly because you never leave anything in the tip jar, you cheapskate.”
“I was informed that you were the most beautiful woman ever to visit Casablanca. Meh.”
“Oh, Rick – I’ll have to do the thinking for both us.”
“Round up some unusual suspects.”
“I’m making out the report now. We’re not sure if he committed suicide or was vaporized by Jade Helm ninja vampires in secret tunnels beneath an abandoned Circuit City in New Ulm.”
“I’m shocked! Shocked! To learn that Bible study is going on in here!”
“Aw, come on, you guys – doesn’t anyone in here know the words to the Marseillaise!?”
“I remember every detail – the North Vietnamese wore green; you wore a blue Che Guano tee-shirt.”
“Yes, I put that tee-shirt, knee-pants, and flip-flops away. When the North Vietnamese march out I’ll wear them again.”
“What makes baristas so snobbish?”
“Are you one of those people who cannot imagine English soccer fans in your beloved Newark?”
“Oh, no, Emile, please. A bottle of your best designer water, and put it on my bill.”
“Just a moment. I heard a rumor those two German couriers were carrying the latest Apple watches.”
“I don’t mind a parasite. I object to one who isn’t accredited by the BBB.”
“Ricky, I’m going to miss you. Apparently you’re the only one with less scruples than the Supreme Court.”
“Paula Deen and Bill Cosby walk into a bar…”
“And remember – this gun is pointed right at your pancreas.”
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but when you can’t get a refund on those tickets to Lisbon…”
“We’ll always have Caney Head.”
“I have already given him the best table, knowing that he is with the Clinton campaign and would take it anyway.”
“C’mon, Mr. Rick. We’ll get the car. We’ll drive all night. We’ll go fishing. We’ll wear togas! Partee! Partee!”
“Major Strasser has been tasered!”
“Here’s looking at you, kid. You know, that’s a really patronizing, sexist expression.”
“Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful limited-liability partnership.”
“I came to Casablanca for the Blue Bell ice cream…I was misinformed.”
-30-
Monday, July 6, 2015
With True Prayers
Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
With True Prayers
For the Martyrs of Charleston
“…but with true prayers
That shall be up at heaven and enter there”
-Measure for Measure II.ii.151-152
A study table is an Altar too
Whereon repose not only holy books
But also hopes and prayers and coffee cups
On Wednesday evening – there in fellowship
To crown the middle of the busy week
With an hour or two of quiet discourse
And, yes, laughter, joy, and merriment
Among dear friends, our happy gifts from God -
Evil cannot veto, even with our blood
The truth: this table is an Altar too
Published in Longbows and Rosary Beads, June 2015
mhall46184@aol.com
With True Prayers
For the Martyrs of Charleston
“…but with true prayers
That shall be up at heaven and enter there”
-Measure for Measure II.ii.151-152
A study table is an Altar too
Whereon repose not only holy books
But also hopes and prayers and coffee cups
On Wednesday evening – there in fellowship
To crown the middle of the busy week
With an hour or two of quiet discourse
And, yes, laughter, joy, and merriment
Among dear friends, our happy gifts from God -
Evil cannot veto, even with our blood
The truth: this table is an Altar too
Published in Longbows and Rosary Beads, June 2015
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