DUMB BASTARD AWARD FOR FEBRUARY 2014

Greetings Hairballers,

Here it is, March 1, and time for the Dumb Bastard Award.

The award goes to:  All the restaurants that are now adding surcharges to customers’ bills for Affordable Health Care, which is not yet a requirement.

Since the AHC is not in effect, the managers or owners of these places are either dumb as a box of rocks or super smart by adding to their profits.  They must also believe their customers are stupid for paying for something that doesn’t yet exist.

Is this a political statement or are they just trying to shame the wait staff? 

Remember when Papa John said he would have to raise the price of a pizza?  How many more 66-car garages are being financed by the surcharges?

Here’s a link.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/02/27/gators-dockside-obamacare_n_4866849.html?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000063

Hairballs to them.

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Truth

Greetings Hairballers,

Must be something in the air.  Last time I was introspective, this time angry.

The subject of truth has been plaguing me.  We have been lied to for so long (since time began) about almost everything that it’s become unbearable.  The spinogarchs think us a bunch of babbling idiots and in many cases, they’re right. I made this word up to include everything from food processors (no not the chop and whiz), big pharma, news media, government, people, businesses, politicians (especially politicians), etc., so there.

This gurgled out and I offer it to you.

Truth©

         FMHorner

Ah, that bent and twisted word,

whose utterance does ring hollow

to those who listen beneath the noise

for there truth can be found

crouched behind the veil

how much can we stand

when things we thought were so

are proved to be a pack of lies,

mechanisms of control

to keep us locked in fear?

in ways large and small

truth rises to the surface

exploding against the world to

shake us from our comfort zones,

we stand exposed, vulnerable

and alive

Hacking Hairballs again.

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The Accidental Poet

Greetings Hairballers,

Just finished reading a biography of the great Molly Ivins. No, I’m not that arrogant to compare myself to her.  Ivins, like Babe Ruth, was one of a kind and we will never see the likes of either again.  She was and is one of my heroes.  I keep her picture over my desk for inspiration--along with Hunter Thompson, Fran Lebowitz, Dorothy Parker, Alfred E. Neuman and others.

Every comedian and writer around is doing the Olympics--good, bad and hysterical.  I’ll leave it to them.  Instead, I’ve turned to a bit of introspection.  It won’t happen often.

Here we go…

The Accidental Poet©

         FMHorner

Quite by accident, it happened,

this poetry pouring forth

on my way to writing

the great American novel,

which would win a Pulitzer

or Noble prize,

or at least be published

by someone other than me

those crazy gonzo verses

kept coming

perhaps not so much stanzas

but rants and hairballs

my take on what you did,

what was done to you,

what I saw and thought,

or what was done to me

down the rabbit hole I slid

with clichés and sarcastic wit

my companions in crime,

maybe someday

I’ll peek out and see my shadow,

then again, maybe not

I like it down here

I’m a sprinter,

not a marathon runner

so I’ll keep spitting them out

one hairball at a time

as long as it’s still fun

and we all keep laughing,

sighing, gasping or crying

I am the Hairballer

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OMG OF THE WEEK

Greetings Hairballers,

I’m someone known for sarcasm, but today I seem to be channeling my inner Alice Hoffman.

Last night I had an OMG moment when I heard Renee Fleming sing the Star Spangled Banner.  I cried and so did some of those tough footballers.

Ms. Fleming sung this as it was written--a tone poem.

Like most, I’ve heard it thousands of times and, for me, it has only ever said one thing--game on.

We’ve listened to marching bands pound it out and celebrity singers straining for the high notes and then yelled play ball or go groundhogs--whatever.

Last evening, for the first time in my life, I understood the emotions Francis Scott Key felt when he wrote his poem.  Yes, it started as a poem.  Frank, as I now call him, didn’t have a guitar, keyboard or harpsichord with him and he probably didn’t think, “I feel a song coming on.”

Here’s the link to YouTube.  If you didn’t hear it, treat yourself to a few minutes.  Well worth the time and may change the way you view the Star Spangled Banner forever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7etXoNrwP8c

Hairballs, I have Goosebumps.

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