OMG OF THE WEEK

CNN has run a short feature of a man showing how to make a false passport at least six times--maybe more, I don’t watch it constantly.

Since they can’t get news right, have they turned to educational TV?

Back to the NHL channel for me.

Hairballs!

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Sitting on Frozen Peas

Greeting Hairballers,

Daylight Savings Time has me up and rattling about.  Even though I forgot to change the clock, the cat came in to do spin the lampshade over my head at 8 or 9 am, depending on what time zone he was in--so up I got.

We all have our dents and dings, mine is a pinched nerve.  How?  Living life I suspect.  Surely not from all the years of wearing high heels, as I know at least 12 men with the same problem--unless they were dressing differently when I wasn’t around.

Here, my feelings and solution.

Sitting on Frozen Peas©

         FMHorner    

lodged above my left butt cheek

the pinched nerve, Aggravaine,

waits with the patience of Fafner  

for the awkward push of a vacuum,

the schlepping of groceries up the steps,

the hauling of cat

when she stirs, it’s feet up the wall

then sit on a pack of frozen peas

while sipping an Irish whiskey on ice

till Aggravaine sleeps again

If hairballs would fix it, I’d hack up a bucket full,

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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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