Twas the Night Before Christmas- DC Style

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through DC,
Not a politician was cooperating, not Hatch or Pelosi.
The Democrats were fighting and not always real fair,
In hopes all Americans would have universal health care.

The pundits were nestled all snug in their beds,
Who’ll win this new battle, the blues or the reds?
Michele Obama in her kerchief and Barack in his cap
Had just settled America for a long 4 year nap.

When out on the South Lawn while Biden worked on his tan,
Barack proclaimed to all who’d hear, “Change? Yes we can!”
Away to the cameras, every reporter had the urge,
We’re now focusing on Afghanistan; it’s time for a surge.

Glenn Beck on the TV for the viewers of Fox News Channel,
Gave the lustre of The Tea Party to an angry progressive panel.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But 8 of our past Presidents, the ghosts of yester year.

Now Washington, Now Adams, Now Jefferson and Hayes
On FDR, On Woodrow, On Lincoln and JFK.
To our monuments! To our legacy! To the constitution we wrote,
We’ll protect our borders and we don’t need a moat.

And then in a twinkling through the darkness and din,
Appeared another great man, his name was Ben Franklin.
Down the chimney he arrived, he came with a bound,
There was hope on the way; he’d turn this country around.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
The Democrats didn’t like him, the Republicans went berzerk.
And then in a flash, with a laugh that was hearty,
He proclaimed his first law, no more political parties.

He wrote this new law with a pen that was feather,
We’ll end all of this fighting and instead work together.
Over the next few days they cancelled all programs pending,
They agreed to do what was right and reduce government spending.

It took a bit of time, but on Christmas Eve they were done,
They had all got along, and some even had fun.
Taxes were now lower and our troops back on US soil,
Ben’s job was now finished, he’d put an end to the turmoil.

He sprang to his feet, threw the old budget in the trash,
Collected all of the Presidents and vanished in a flash.
But I heard him exclaim, before they disappeared from my sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!

O, I'm Positive

A letter to my blood donation recipient:


Let’s get the pleasantries out of the way first. You’re welcome. The real meaning of this letter is to let you know what you’ve inherited by consuming my blood.

I’d like to apologize for the roughly 14 cookies, 2 pieces of toast, 1 Venti mocha, 5 buffalo wings, 5 oriental buffalo wings, 2 Auntie Annie Pretzels (one jalapeño & one garlic), and 2 air heads that I consumed prior to the blood donation. While we are at it, I’d also like to apologize for the roughly 25 cookies, ½ pound of cheese, ¼ of a roll of Italian salami, multiple slices of peppered salami, 2 tuna fish sandwiches, and every other holiday related piece of garbage I’ve put in my body over the past 48 hours.

Further, you may find some strange things happening to you over the next few days and weeks. Don’t be alarmed if you find yourself listening to Abba. I’ve recently discovered that Agneth Faltskog is very 70’s attractive and somehow their music is now palatable. Don’t be worried if you now watch Glenn Beck on the Fox News Channel. While I don’t particularly agree with his politics, the guy can spin a good yarn and I just like to hear him talk. Don’t be scared if you suddenly have a craving for pickled herring. I had it the other day and it really just tastes like tuna fish and is pretty good on a salty cracker. And don’t freak out if you find yourself shedding a tear for Brittany Murphy. Not that I was a fan or even saw her movies, but I find the death of any young actor or actress incredibly sad and depressing.

You may also experience some feelings that you’ve never felt before. For example, you may find yourself equally repulsed by Meryl Streep, Renee Zellweger, Rosie O’Donnell, and mushrooms. You may also find yourself annoyed by slow parkers, speed bump stoppers, red light non-turners, screaming children, bells, chalkboards, wet paint, long nails, dry skin, static cling, Mondays, bail bondsman commercials, QVC, and people who stand way to close when they talk to you. You may find yourself hating mushrooms, parsley, cilantro, cloves, and quiche. Alternatively, you almost certainly will now be drawn to any sugar based candy, hot pockets, microwaveable pizzas, key lime pie yogurt, Red Robin’s A-1 Steakhouse burger, ginger chews, and black licorice.

My recommendation is to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the flow. While not perfect the O positive I’ve given you has worked pretty well for me the past 3 plus decades and I’m sure it will do the same for you. So no further thank you’s are necessary. No need to bake me a pie or hand me the keys to the city. I’ve done nothing that any other universal donor wouldn’t do with an hour to kill during the holiday season. Just live your life without wax and we’ll call it even.

First Paragraph- The Legend of Lost Creek Lane

Lost Creek Lane was nestled in the woods, barely visible to those who passed its entrance while on the busy two lane road. The sign to the road was partially obstructed and the overgrowth of trees would cause you to entirely miss the entrance unless you specifically knew it was there. Accessibility was not really an issue anyway given the road gave entrance to a single home almost two miles at the end of the now barely paved path. But Lost Creek Lane did have its share of visitors, however infrequent they may be, and those visitors tended to be important in nature. The owner of the house was a mystery and the nearly 5 acres of electric fencing and vicious guard dogs kept even the most adventurous of onlookers away. Rumor had it the man who owned the house was once a prominent doctor some 40 years ago who’d dropped out of the profession after serious allegations surfaced regarding misappropriations of goods intended for some third world country. Apparently several shipments of medicine as part of the Government’s “Hands Across the Globe” program had gone missing under his watch. But like many things in this part of the country, it was all rumor and innuendo and was never verified despite the many attempts of the gossip hungry town. No one knew his name and he rarely ventured into town. So infrequent were the sightings of him, that many were not even sure he was still alive. And then one fall day he showed up in the middle of town, in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day, incoherent and wobbling back and forth. He was shouting, but his sentences were slurred and the now gathering crowd could only make out an occasional word. When asked later, one onlooker would swear she heard the word “fault”; another would attest to hearing “surgery”; and yet another would witness the man slurred “conspiracy”. What all three, and the rest of the crowd, would unanimously agree upon is the man’s slurring and wobbling both stopped when a sniper’s bullet ripped through the side of his head.

Random Thoughts of Mindlessness Vol. 3

I woke up this morning at 4 am with a clear strategy on how to win at the game Battleship. I’ve never played the game in my life, so I’m wondering why I’d be thinking about it in the first place, much less how I’m developing a strategy for it. However, I also woke up this morning with a splitting headache, a sore shoulder, an upset stomach, and an overall discontent with my alarm clock. Possibly all of these things are somehow related.

In completely unrelated news, I’m uncomfortable with how this whole AT& T vs. Verizon thing is playing out. I feel like I’m witnessing some horrible breakup where both parties are insistent on bashing the other to pieces. I’ve actually grown uncomfortable watching it and wonder if they secretly love each other, thus breeding the outward and open acrimony. They’d actually be a perfect couple. They’re both big on friends and family. When going to parties AT&T could always bring the Apps. And as for sex, they’d have no trouble finding the 3G-spot, although apparently it’s much easier to find on Verizon.

In even further unrelated news, I no longer find the old school Rudolph TV Christmas program to be worthwhile. In fact, I find it creepy. I can’t imagine any child would want to sit and watch that after what they are exposed to on daily basis. I know as parents we try and hold on to traditions and pass them down to our kids, but do we really want horrible graphics to be our legacy? And the same goes with Charlie Brown’s Christmas. With newspapers going away, kids 15 years from now aren’t even going to know who Charlie Brown is.

And finally, in even more unrelated news, I’m wondering when we got the point where speaking in acronyms became more of a sign of intelligence than using large words. It used to be the larger and more impressive the word the more people would look at you in amazement and wonder how you got so smart. There was, and probably still is, a word of the day calendar to increase your vocabulary in order to continually impress your friends and co-workers. Now it seems people want to show their intelligence by shortening everything and I fear this practice will only expand with the text messaging generation entering the workforce. I can just see a meeting that starts out, “OMG, the KPI needs some TLC ASAP or else the BOM’s will be DOA.” I think I’ll invent an acronym of the day calendar.

First Paragraph- Super Size Me

Andrew sat at the ketchup stained table in the local burger joint. He eyed his nearly 1 lb. slab of hamburger with complete satisfaction; knowing the mere sight of the decadent treat would send his overbearing health nut of a wife through the roof. He really couldn’t stand his bride of nearly 8 years. Their marriage was a sham from the very beginning, but he was just too weak of a person then to do anything about it. They were different in every way and those differences grew even larger with every shallow anniversary that passed. To the outside world they must have looked like June and Ward Cleaver, but the veneer of their marriage was razor thin and ready to crumble at any time. Andrew (by the way, he actually liked to be called Andy but his wife forbade this moniker) would never be good enough for his Barbie Doll wife whose only real need for plastic surgery would be to have the silver spoon removed from her mouth. With each defiant bite Andrew grew angrier and angrier with his wife and was even more convinced that what he was about to do was not only justified, but completely right. His focus on revenge was momentary derailed by a disabled man guiding his wheelchair into the table next to him. An entirely empty restaurant and this guy had to sit right next to him. Some people think they are entitled to the world just because they are handicapped. Andrew regained his focus and resolve, pulled out his pen and wrote something on a piece of scrap paper. He slid the paper into an pre-addressed envelope knowing full well the six words contained inside would send the wretched family into the hell they all deserved.