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BY Davey H

04/01 Direct Link

At March’s expiry, Davey H was yammering on regarding a curious incident involving $15.50 in quarters he retrieved from a local Laundromat’s change machine.

Having returned them to the owner, Davey never expected more than kind words and a pat on the back; little did he know big plans were bubbling behind the squeaky din and shiny stainless steel facades of expensive commercial cleaning apparatus.

So when the owner called asking if Davey wanted in as partner in the franchise, Davey nearly shat his trousers.

”Holy Soaps, are you shittin’ me?” Davey croaked.

”Hell yeah,” the owner replied.
”April Fools!”

04/02 Direct Link

Now, then; now and then you just have to ‘let out the dawg’ – know what I mean?

Indeed, dog-hair – and the ordure it engenders – infuses every fiber of our existence, it seems, necessitating trips to other than our own laundering facilities, and it is in these venues that lucid working-class dramas – for better or worse – gleefully play against the backdrop of humility and non-autonomy under the glare of ever-present surveillance cameras.
But it all comes out in the wash.

To reiterate, this snazzy facility – to which I devoted so many column-inches – is the hands-down, all-categories winner, sporting wicked fast WIFI.


04/03 Direct Link

Yes, indeed, all things eventually come out in the wash, preferably when we use unscented detergents, though judging from the odoriferous chemical stench emanating so odiously from any given Laundromat, most people don’t, and are instead lured, sheep-like, into the fallacious notion that having their respective textiles saturated inextricably with petrochemical-derived fragrances equates with ‘clean’.

So as mentioned previously, our personal threads had been washed along with dog laundry (thankfully in separate machines!), and I was prepped and in good stead for the 10-day cabin stay slated to commence here on the coattails of a winter that just wouldn’t quit.

04/04 Direct Link

The cabin had dust
But I moved in with lust
10 days and nights’ trust
I’d make it or bust!

Now Thoreau I ain’t
And have many a taint
But without complaint
Praise these quarters so quaint!
And that creaky-assed door
Creaked just like before
with a moan just too hard to ignore.

The first few nights went okay,
and then the winds came,
whipping up dust and raking
those raggedy Rhododendrons
against the rough-sawn pine clapboards
with a scratching sound eerily akin
to rodent incursion.

Hence, the cabin became merely a place to crash;
indeed, a major morning motivator!

04/05 Direct Link

Thus it came to be and find
That for me, so sad you see
But I knew damn well it would be:
One thousand words behind!

But it always ends up that way
And suffice to say
This county bumpkin’s so grateful;
For if ‘they’ were watching
My foray’d be scotching
And I’d get kicked out – so fateful!

I refer most specifically to the good-faith admonition for us posters on this forum, in the context of our content reflecting activities taking place at time of posting.
But that’s too hard
So here’s a canard:
Through this stuff I’ll be coasting!

04/06 Direct Link

A return, yea, hey, a slight return!
(Apologies, Jimi, for using your term!)
To the reentry, gentry
Now watch me squirm
Post-op the righteous ‘Burn & Learn’
Yes, indeed, a FLASH burn, dude;
that much I did read’ly discern.

So now these eyelids
will start to droop
much sooner in the day;
as I tussle with muscle
and hope to recoup
some energy on the way.

So let’s walk the loop
and please pick up dog poop
waxing rapturous as if to say:
”Don’t bend, please stoop;
For your spine that’s the scoop!”
And revel, we’re out in the fray!

04/07 Direct Link

Later, rested, well-ensconced in this journey vested, I tried, discreet, not to admit defeat; indeed, hoping not to be bested.

The period key on the otherwise functional keyboard insisted on not working most of the time, but was infuriatingly inconsistent, so perhaps run-on sentences would be a satisfactory workaround.

However, the period, or perhaps rather, ‘dot’ key still worked on the numeric keypad, but what a hassle! Yet it can, should and will be taken in stride within the context of flashlight batteries that last a week, CV joint boots that crack within a year and failure-prone flimsy plastic hinges.

04/08 Direct Link

Facebook – and indeed a vast majority of the Web itself – must be the most creative way ever invented to waste time.

But that’s okay; we in the Land ‘o Plenty have plenty of time to waste, as the world is our playground, rife with extractable, exploitable resources free for the taking to the benefit of our largest shareholders who in turn seek ever-increasing profits, aided and abetted by our Empire’s expansionist policies.
Of course inconveniences arise, such as those that prompt headlines like this:
“Kazakhstan Wants A Piece Of Its Own Oil Revenues”

It’s NICE to be distracted!

04/09 Direct Link

Someone recently posted a pro-mara-hoochie piece which garnered 1157 ‘Likes’, give or take a few.

I'd take that voluminous passel of Likes with a large bag of salt, and would venture that a sizable percentage of 'medicinal' weed usage is fraudulent at best. After all, who DOESN'T want to feel good, smooth out the bumps of life and slap Band-Aids on all real or perceived wounds?

It's an easy next step to cobble together some 'symptoms', rouse up justification, and head to the nearest dispensary.

Okay, so let the glaucoma and terminal cancer patients get their just due, rightly so.

04/10 Direct Link

Anti-Pot Rail, continued:

Speaking from my own unfruitful experience of lost decades enmeshed in this time and money-wasting activity - chasing that ever-elusive perfect buzz - all I come up with is regret for all the time and money flushed down the swirling commode of recreational intoxication and lost potential in the realm of education, etc.

In retrospect, time would have been more productively served watching Speed Racer reruns. At least I could have solved some of life's larger queries; I could be stupefied with the idiotic resolutions to problems – and cheer when the bad guys lost – while NOT stoned!

04/11 Direct Link

Anti-Pot rail, Part III:

For the thinking person who is not fooled by the feeble deceit of intoxication and wants to better her/himself, plenty of truly holistic activities abound: Tai-Chi, Yoga, a dizzying array of meditation techniques, martial arts - the list goes on.

The 'need' to intoxicate, when not prompted by peer pressure, is, generally speaking, a void that can be filled without the debilitating side-effects and unjustifiable expense.

In closing this long-winded diatribe, I wish I had all that time back; time frittered away, red-eyed, lazy with intoxicated indolence as the world of constructive pursuits eluded my grasp.

04/12 Direct Link

This particular diatribe begins April 6th and feebly attempts to work ass-backwards to 10 days prior, or should we say, retroactively. Should this have been a former post, then I owe a formal apology to the host.

Thus it was to be,
For it was planned, see?
In this winter that just wouldn’t quit
I spent nights in a cabin
and got used to it.

6 blankets, a pillow and sleeping bag;
By a larch, not a willow
This chin would not wag!
Silence for nine days
The easiest part;
As the practice stirred malaise
We all learned the art!

04/13 Direct Link

One cap was for sitting
One thus for sleeping;
The first was loose fitting
The other heat-keeping!

This rambling was partially delineated April 4th, and in keeping with an incomprehensibly intractable, horribly disorganized state of affairs scattered about this pathetic excuse for an office, got muffled in the shuffle. Hence, digression, dislocation and disambiguation intervened.

Now, then; back to ‘then’:
Tomorrow it’s homeward
to resume the grind;
With thick skull waxed bone-ward,
Alas, I find
a fluttering lost bird
that IS this, MY mind!
Though speech is not slurred
nor am I weak-spined.
”But that is absurd”
I wryly opined.

04/14 Direct Link

Oh, I neglected to mention yesterday’s snow: damn near 4 inches that made things quite slow.
Glad we didn’t pull the studs, you know?

Everything will be late this year – anything stalwart enough to poke its heliotrope peepers above ground, that is.
For the tender, those tiny tendrils, what a rude awakening it is turning out to be.

Black birch twigs and sucker growth are still available for consumption, permitting the consumer to avail her/himself of Wintergreen oil contained therein for the purposes of naturally controlling inflammation, as salicylic acid is also a chemical constituent in the twigs and bud-ends.

04/15 Direct Link

Ahh, yes – the infamous Tax Day that everyone yelps and bitches about!

Oh, but wait: do we have an ‘out’?

Today most of our colleagues have a day off – ostensibly ‘Patriot’s’ Day in common parlance, and perhaps par for the course, though many of said cohorts do not in the strictest sense of the term deem themselves overtly patriotic.

Yes, we have taxes due. But that’s okay; we are only minimally funding ‘our’ war ‘efforts’ in distant dusty environs, and if that’s the only disgruntlement aside from ethanol subsidies that benefit Monsanto or Syngenta, then all’s well that ends well.

04/16 Direct Link

Now is the time for all good cameras to come to the aid of their countrypersons.
For it is in the interest of ALL Americans that, to quote local pundit Sigmoid Whupsteen: “they GET this friggin’ guy – and yes, I believe it’s a guy – grapple him by the short hairs, maybe apply some electrodes to his genitals, then put his ass in a cage with similar resolve as was applied to Unabomber Ted Kaczynski. Let’s face it: we just can’t have madmen running around doing this kind of shit without consequences.”

Whew! That Whupsteen’s a sizzlin’ steak on life’s grill.

04/17 Direct Link

News from the BBC’s
of course, yes, overseas.
I pardon, if you please
crispy Brits’ bureaucratese.

And permit these views
when listening to the news
that we’re spoon-fed each day;
I FEEL for those newscasters
entangled in the fray.

Because, hey, those poor saps are, as condition of their employment, roped in to reciting this dreadful pap over and over again on any given day when all the news that trickles in is of death, grizzle, debauchery and dismay.

Ever wonder how persons reciting this stuff fare?
Do they suffer from insomnia?
Prehensile erectile deficiency?
Shingles?

Listen if you dare!

04/18 Direct Link

Finally the Jack Russells are returning home.

This was the longest run of their short careers – going on 17 days, which would not ordinarily have been a problem in less quirky 4-leggers.

The junior, codenamed ‘Testicle’, performs intensive leg lifts, obsessively humps other canines, tends to get aggressive in the car and has nipped fingers.
His older ‘sibling’, Stubborn Lou, digs in heels and all too often lives up to his name.

In the interests of maintaining canine cogency – and tending toward avoiding wretched news reports of the ongoing Boston Marathon bombing fiasco, we catalyze workaday occurrences with furry distractions.

04/19 Direct Link

Pressure cookers
Are for beans and peas,
Or sometimes carrots and beets;
The toughest hulls
On the least of these
Thoroughly completes.

But one pressure cooker
Made a bomb
Mangled onlooker
And shattered calm.

Somewhere else, nobody was running.

And like that indescribably peaceful
sunny September Tuesday in 2001,
nary a soul could grasp the carnage
unfolding two hours east,
but once they found out,
they would concur with Ecclesiastes’ 1:9
assessment of nothing new being under the sun.

For it is within the capacity of our species
to harbor and express evil intentions.

Under the sun, go APESHIT, someone!

04/20 Direct Link

With Earth Day fast approaching,
here’s a country hick topic
well worth broaching:
time’s-a-wastin’, son,
Springtime you’re tastin’,
now go out and Git ‘Er Done!

First off, scrape up fetid sand/salt detritus left over from the winter’s plowing and hustle it over yonder with the trusty rusty wheelbarry.

After all, it can be used as fill provided no plant material of any consequence is residing nearby.

Next, take down the homemade Plow-Gard® so as not to offend mail carriers.

Last night’s hoarfrost
(Heavens! Don’t insult Mother Nature like that!)
meant capitulation;
bring in pansy flats for another few nights, please.

04/21 Direct Link

Elsewhere around the cattle-free beef-less vegetarian so-called ‘ranch’, the snows got pulled last night;
now the old Iron Horse pulls to the right.

Ace ASE-certified mechanic Rich mentions how he’s “not impressed” with cars that land in his shop after having supposedly undergone professional alignment.

And so it is: rubber is a big expense not avoidable; premature tread wear is the cost of doing business at over 20,000 miles a year.

So although she pulls to the right
it won’t make me get uptight;
With a yank and some heft
I snatch to the left
Fake balance – and that’s outtasight!

04/22 Direct Link

With Earth Day signaling the powerful push to save electricity, powers that be (no pun intended) are unctuously urging turning off lights and such for a few evening hours.
Meanwhile, stack at the branch, I might get some gigs clearing trees that shade solar panels.

Additionally, while reading David Cay Johnston’s latest book entitled “The Fine Print”, Chapter 6 comes highly recommended, as it deals with electric utilities and their multifarious tax breaks, sweetheart deals, lousy service and postponed maintenance.

They do whatever they want,
have us firmly held by the short-hairs,
and will continue to get away with it.

04/23 Direct Link

Repetition, repetition, repetition;
How great thy admonition!

Learning by rote is the process of note; a most basic – and, however grudgingly we must admit – effective method of implanting both necessary and unnecessary information between our ears.
But at times it bores me to tears.

I could rant on about Mike the Health Ranger and his adjectival antics; he can never post anything, it seems, without making sure to drive the post into the ground, saying the same damn thing at least three times, albeit with slight changes in wording so as ostensibly to get the point across from different angles.

04/24 Direct Link

Attention riggers, ropers, workers, non-dopers!
I see you are using strong straps and thick ropes
Surely not abusing them
with abrasive high hopes.

Be advised some are made
With an ‘Esterlon’® blend
Best kept in the shade
Lest their life will soon end.

Enraptured with the colorful pastiche
of 7/16” safety lines on the Yale Cordage website,
Davey H exuberantly exclaimed:
“What a knock-down, drag-out plethora!”

But he sat on the fence regarding whether to drop to 7/16” from half inch, not wanting to be half-assed. Still indecisive, perhaps the price would shunt his choice toward the lighter weight product.

04/25 Direct Link

FOUR BUCKS, Snail Mail Sent

When we got our toll bill in the mail
I sent a check straight away;
Those cretins’ droll drill on us so frail
In court we’d have our day?!

So now extol what it would entail
We’d driven in the fray;
Would I cajole or rant and rail
Whilst pleading in dismay?
Their urban ‘soul’ was put on sale
To my checkbook inveigh!

I licked and stamped the envelope
Then sent it off with brimming hope
Those robo-systems would ably cope
Ensconced in their electro-scope
And with dithering electro-erections
NOT send my dough
To electro-collections!

04/26 Direct Link

Those well-off Snowbirds
with the double-decker McMansion
aren’t back from the Sunshine State.

No, they are not back here yet,
though it isn’t yet late;
down yonder, we ponder,
hot as it could get;
wiped sweat & wiped clean slate!

They’ll be in for a big unpleasant surprise,
what with rodents having run roughshod
‘oer their palace and an obnoxious incursion of houseflies.

On a chilly-assed morn
They blow their car horn
Yeah, a sonorous toot
As they ogle grapefruit
Sure is good to be back
Now it’s time to unpack
But the rest of us don’t give a hoot!

04/27 Direct Link

The period key finally began working again on this excellently comfortable curved keyboard, enabling, without the slightest inkling or pretense of malice aforethought, a proprietarily precise prehensile prologue of perspicuous, profundity-penurious piffle parsed precariously for the perusing pleasure of as-yet-to-be-determined readers; though at the time this tumultuous tommyrot was culled, composed, created collated, and compiled, the semi-functional gray matter betwixt Davey H’s ears was grudgingly nearing a fully awakened state, having been invoked, impelled and introduced to said condition, albeit somewhat delayed, by proper and reasonable means via traditional methods of caffeinated beverage intake, in this case, chai AND coffee.

04/28 Direct Link

PATIENCE, PATIENT!

The metastatic bone cancer patient has returned home with condition still latent. Her newly refurbished buggy sits waiting for her returned strength, dread disease temporarily abating; we’re not debating at some length.

So it will once again be her pride and joy – especially with functional A/C, boy!

Having undergone its own surgery, including head gasket, right-front axle and new skins all the way around, it now glides like a brand new car.

Damn well better, for $2989.87.

We visited the patient, who, to her credit, HAS been patient; tolerant of the dreadful toxins medicine has injected her with. 

04/29 Direct Link

The patient, you see
Felt the pull of harsh tension
But the smartass in me
Still gave full attention.

Trouble is brewing
In Medicine’s house;
so why are they playing
this game, cat & mouse?

The patient, we see
is being assaulted
But verily
white coats can’t be faulted.

Poor patient whose latent
rank cancer cells grow
with a dreadful sensation
Pain meds keep on ‘low’.

We cannot feel
how bad these things are
but one thing’s for real:
She has DNR.

In closing, therefore
we all must stand back
And assume, not implore
That she’s on the right track!

04/30 Direct Link

Today was the first day of the last day of the month. Does that make sense?

F***no, you may snipe.
So let’s see – retroactively – what was coming down the pipe:

Well after 4:30, I got up, feeling grimy and dirty, and quaffed java cup. After all, I had worked cleaning windows last night until 11:30, and it damn near my ass did whup!

Now if you, dear readers give a flip, I post this here on high; for we may or may not take a trip; and can neither confirm nor deny!

Is it off to Stoneham?
Scoff, condone ‘em?