Burger and Fries

October 25, 2017


Hate and Fear 

rented the room upstairs

and they constantly stomp about.

Such heavy

heavy

weight

suffocates 

our black lungs and hearts 

but no one seems to care. 

We take a long, slow drag on a Marlboro, snorting smoke when the local TV weatherman cracks a joke… 

The news today seems familiar again

itchy trigger fingers and bloody streets

drug dogs in junior high school halls

the market reaches a new high 

while acid rain still falls

and falls

and 

falls.

Confusion, collusion, corrosion, and tears.

We make an improbable wish as we blow out our candles, then everyone smiles and claps, as if we must be so happy to start another year…

Missing uranium and wars to be waged

our biggest concern is a living wage 

to feed these hungry kids

while rich, fat pigs

grab some pussy

just 

for 

kicks.

We have no need to worry since prayers are being said, for the good Lord works in mysterious ways, they promise…

Goddamn foreigners on our land

paranoia shakes our hand

remember promises are cheap 

but mankind deserves a place to sleep — 

we all want this before our death. 

Disease, distrust, disgust and despair 

the sweet scent of decay begins to fill the air.

We grab a burger and fries, then bid our fond farewells…

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Jesus Became a Capitalist

October 22, 2017


Jesus is a loving man deep inside his heart, but being born the Chosen One creates great pressure 

And modesty is a sinking ship, when assured how great thou art 

He grew weary from years of prayer requests — heal the sick, end the wars, and let us score a touchdown 

So he sold the family biz for a billion bucks, and flew a private jet out of town

Now he’s a scratch golfer with a hot, young wife, living just outside Palm Springs 

He attends church once a month, enjoys making wine, and contributes to many tax-deductible charities

There are occasional days — usually after tennis — when Jesus wonders if he should have done more

But a deep massage and sauna serve him well, a reminder he is happier than ever before

Jesus is a loving man deep inside his heart, but he’s called it quits, and we’re on our own…

It’s time we each start doing our part. 

The Coffee Shop

October 15, 2017


We get such enjoyment from our morning coffee, as we scan the news in the paper some early-rising patron left behind

The shootings, the rapes, the missing children…some order their coffee black, the bitter bite is a welcomed pat on the back

The poverty, the hunger, the creeping epidemic…some take their coffee with cream and sugar, it’s such a sweet, pleasant taste

We spy a blurb on the back page about a young soldier who lost his legs in Afghanistan. Shaking our heads, we toss the paper down and walk to the counter for one more tasty cup.


He looked so handsome with the handgun he found hidden on a shelf

He aimed it at his mirror and whispered yippee ki-yay, motherfucker! to himself

He looked so handsome with the handgun he considered taking it to school

Girls would finally notice him, they’d all think he was so cool

All the guys would gather ’round, begging to be friends 

He’d let them take turns holding it, the attention would never end

Maybe he’d leave it in his backpack for protection when he’s chased

Instead he raised it to his head, and blew off half his face

He looked so handsome with the handgun he found hidden on a shelf


There’s nothing that can be written about baseball that hasn’t already been said. It’s a game that grown men wearing silly outfits play until their arms are dead, their knees give out, and their eyes can no longer pick up a fastball. It’s the perfect game in many respects, the chess of sports, where strategy is critical, yet a single pawn occasionally wins a game. The best hitters fail more often than they succeed, but when they come through at the end of a game — at the end of a season — well, it can bring tears to old men’s eyes. 

They say baseball is a metaphor for life. It’s a long season full of ups and downs, triumphs and heartache. Some days are good, some are bad, and sometimes the rain ruins everything. As in life, it seems that success is usually the result of teamwork, determination, and a lot of good fortune along the way. It’s not always the most talented team that wins, and as Yogi Berra’s saying goes, it ain’t over ’til it’s over. As fans, very few of us get to regularly enjoy the post season, but each new year brings renewed hope. The last two seasons are proof that anything is possible, and also that patience truly is a virtue. 

So as we start a new season in earnest today, I sincerely wish everyone luck. I’ve experienced the thrill of sitting on the edge of my seat during an unimaginable late inning rally resulting in victory. I’ve witnessed an entire city unite with unbelievable pride during a magical season capped by a long-awaited World Series championship. Most importantly, I’ve felt the simple joy of hanging outside with my family on a warm summer night, talking about life as baseball plays on the radio. 

Maybe life is actually a metaphor for baseball? As in baseball, remember that if you stay focused and keep your eye on the ball, eventually you’ll get a hit. Sometimes just a little hit is all it takes. Hustle every chance you get, play with all your heart, and — most importantly — remember to enjoy every game. The season is long, but life is short. Play ball. 

(And GO ROYALS!) 

I, too, sing America.

When I was young I sang loudly.
I learned what they wanted, minded my manners, recited the pledge.
My white friends and I pedaled our bicycles through suburbia, swam the summer away, and sat in our air-conditioned homes watching MTV when the heat was simply too much to bear — sometimes it was so hot.
Just living the American dream…

Two decades passed and I wasn’t sure what had happened.
I had a wife and a mortgage, two kids and two cars.
My pockets were full but my stomach felt sick.
I was sleep-walking through life,
Just living the American dream…

Then, one day, I turned into the wind and woke with a start.
Dirt stung my face as I walked our gritty streets.
I saw people with dreams of their own —
Like living in that big house on the hill,
And driving that big fancy car,
And wearing those nice clothes that the pretty people wear in the magazines left in the trash cans.
Like finding a bite to eat and a way to make their children warm again — sometimes it gets so cold.
Yes, we all have an American dream…

So while I lost my faith, I found some purpose.
And tomorrow I will continue to trudge along, singing my song and trying to make some tiny difference.
Because I, too, sing America.
And I’m wide awake.

Random Sunday Ramble

March 11, 2017

Sorry to ramble…

I had a lot of things I wanted to get done today, but daylight savings time has ruined my schedule.

How can thirteen-year-old boys be so good at remembering to liberally douse themselves in cheap cologne, yet they can’t remember to turn off lights or flush toilets?

Why does getting good experience at anything take so damn long?

No kid of mine will be operating a vehicle if they “can’t” operate the washer and dryer.

I recently read that the brain begins deteriorating at age 27. Or was it 37? Anyway, it seemed young.

If you believe God is omniscient and everything is predestined by him, what is the point of anything? I at least wouldn’t be getting up early for church.

Why is it that the competitive neighborhood dads all seem to end up mowing at the same time on Saturday mornings?

Did you know…the average American annually consumes as many calories as 32 Kenyans?

Tacos sound good.

I like soccer, but it seems to discriminate against people in wheelchairs, which is why I think basketball is a better overall sport.

Does anyone actually say “tomahto?” If so, they’re not doing themselves any favors.

Spring break is nice for kids, but for most parents it’s simply a week when we are forced to find a sitter.

We are all capable of doing great things, but most of us decide to take a nap.

One out of every three people in the world has no access to a toilet, yet the average new American house has three toilets before finishing the bathroom in the walkout basement.

I truly believe soda is worse for you than beer, I just don’t have the data to back it up.

Life is best experienced with your TV off.

While I don’t watch much TV, I become very concerned when I can’t find the remote.

Considering thousands of people are born each day, I’ve concluded that the possibility of reincarnation seems more realistic than going to heaven.

When we were younger my wife would complain that I didn’t listen to her. Now she just tells everyone I’m deaf.

25% of people in the world live with no electricity. This makes me feel slightly guilty about having a portable phone charger that looks like the poop emoji.

With so many aging baby boomers, I predict canes will start to be en vogue again.

I’d be lying if I said speaking French didn’t make me more handsome.

Did you know…805 million people in the world go hungry every single day. Meanwhile, I’m sitting in my warm car, polluting the air, as I complain about the long line in the drive-thru (tapping my steering wheel along with the radio, of course). Pathetic.

“As a matter of fact yes, (teenage) son, that gold chain does make you look like a douche.”

They say learning to play an instrument has many wonderful benefits for children, yet they never mention how much it sucks for the parents of these children learning to play instruments.

Did you know…it is legal for children to smoke cigarettes in the US? Doctors, however, discourage it.

If I knew then what I know now I know I would have at least known more then.

Call me stupid, but I feel inclined to believe in ideas backed by scientific evidence.

It’s scientifically proven that no man can look cool while drinking from a straw.

Twenty-somethings are into the whole “Netflix and chill” thing. My wife and I spend 45 minutes trying to find something to watch on Netflix, then just decide we are too tired for a movie or sex.

In a world where you can choose to be anything, many people seem to choose poorly.

My six-year-old daughter recently had some ideas about how I could comb my hair differently to look less bald. I thought this was kind of cute at first, but she followed that up by saying that I should consider wearing black because it’s slimming.

Did you know…farting helps reduce high blood pressure?

Dear Red-Blooded American Badass: Before you start cursing that guy because he’s in your country and isn’t speaking English, you might want to know that the good ol’ USA has no official language.

Do you suppose God plays tennis?

I think it’s good when people are politically correct, but I’d rather hang out with someone who is genuinely kind and also enjoys making fun of people. Including themself.

If I could do it all over again, I would be nicer.

Life is short. Let’s do some good.