Sunday, July 24, 2016

Orchard Hunting

I hunt down orchards. Travel the world determined to find these precious flowers and secure them for my own personal pleasure.
Orchards are deceptive. They disguise themselves as stink weed. They move fast and know the best hiding places. I ask around, pay good money for information. The orchard underground is extensive and complex. Older orchards will provide safe houses for the young ones. It only makes me bolder.
I am not a bad person. Every type of orchard is beautiful. I must possess that beauty. There is no challenge hunting tulips or peonies. Roses offer themselves up without a fight.
There are secret orchard colonies in Belgium, protected by the government, given 24 hour guards. But guards can by bribed. I have an extensive stash of relish and honey mustard. These guards are not well fed. Do the math.

The Disrupter

This old guy walked into our writing group, sat his ancient butt down and began reading his stupid memoir about his Army days. We were right in the middle of discussing someone's work. Didn't matter. He just kept reading.
We yelled at him and he mumbled he needed more time. His eyes were full of disdain. He was determined to take over the group. Our leader was frustrated. Over and over, we told him to be quiet and in a quiet voice he resisted. He pretended his hearing was bad. No one was going to shut him up.
At some point I got up and left in disgust. There was a free Beach Boys tribute concert in Fort Lee. Life is too short to put up with his nonsense.
I wonder how long he kept it up before manslaughter took place.


Why does disco still excite me? I saw a disco cover band on a sweltering night and all eleven members were sweat soaked by the end of the concert.
Their second number was Disco Inferno, which gives you an idea of the energy level. I stood off to the side and bopped in place. I moved my head, shoulders, arms and hips. I will not move my feet for fear of hurting those near me. I don't want to give kids nightmares.
Disco gets a bad rep. My perfect concert combines disco with rockabilly. If I attend a rockabilly show I will sit in my lawn chair and bop in place. I will close my eyes and snap my fingers and imagine swing dancing right across the floor. I'd need a partner, but that's a whole separate issue.


Why is it I go nuts over any glazed bakery item? I have to lose weight and am supposed to order only the Old Fashioned, plain donut. Boring. I can deal with sprinkles and thick icing, but the glazed blueberry or chocolate scream for me. How these donuts know my name is a mystery.
It's not even thick glaze. You taste it for a moment and it's gone. Eventually, someone will expand the concept. Glazed artichokes, cucumber, kiwi, pickle, salmon, hot dog, pizza, yam, broccoli, Brussels sprouts. You give each a French name and jack up the price.
Glazed oatmeal would make me reach for my wallet.

Throw Pillows

I have been practicing throwing throw pillows. Many miss their target and bounce off furniture. I freeze up and choke under pressure.
I can deal with regular pillows and I absolutely master cushions. But I know when hosting high end cocktail parties throw pillow placement is essential. You look at certain people and just know they have the secret. Maybe I should talk to my pillows the way others talk to plants.
Of course, I could simply place them where I want, but that is the coward's way out. Do not tell me manly men do not have throw pillows. I''m betting Hugh Jackman's place is stuffed with them.

Saturday, July 23, 2016


So I board the subway and see a seat
 Dart across the aisle
Clump down perhaps a bit hard
Young guy next to me glares
At the last stop I get up
He sticks out his foot to trip me
As he exits I wait on the platform
Make eye contact
Anything can happen
He could have a knife
Then again,I could be crazy
In that moment
I realize a single trip in this city
Could change my life

Friday, July 22, 2016


I was second banana on a second rate children's show and was required to wear a colorful beanie with a propeller on top. The kids were afraid of me. I became an object of ridicule.
When I retired I decided to burn all my beanies. Then I got an idea. I put them on Craigslist. Over the years, millions of kids, now grown up, watched that show. Maybe there was a market.
I was shocked at the response. Within two days I had sold all 79 beanies for more than you can imagine.
Then I got greedy. I advertised my clothes, socks, underwear, chest and arm pit hair. I flooded the market, causing the value of my stuff to dive.
I did keep one beanie for old times sake. After all I did make kids laugh when they weren't running from me.
Waldo, the star and producer, wound up being jailed for stock fraud.
I tell parents to limit kids to cartoons. Much safer.