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BY Davey H

08/01 Direct Link

Ordinarily, as per Davey H’s pervasive,
procrastination producing perspicuous,
partially pejorative piffle,
this post – now having been in progress
only 3 ½ days late – would begin something like this:

“Not sure what we did today,
but maybe that’s okay;
I know for sure we didn’t bray
of this mundane foray.”

So we headed south on brand new skins.
Well, hush my mouth and purge my sins!
Then bust my ass with constipation
a source of substantial consternation!

But this always happens when I travel;
too little crappin’s to unravel
fetid, bloated, not so neat
strained and gloated ‘oer well-warmed seat.

08/02 Direct Link

We had serendipitous fortune to stay
with arborist Rowlie, the very next day
who chatted at length oh, so merrily
with his dear spouse across the sea.

Chatting, yes, no heed to type;
high tech, I guess
that thing called Skype®.
We chimed in, too,
with such good luck;
‘cause I’ll tell you
we saved a buck!

As a point of reference,
his former spouse
had parsed with much deference
that old sturdy farmhouse
into a fine countrified B & B
way back in the ‘90’s, a grand sight to see!
So now he could host the spouse-ster and me!

08/03 Direct Link

Rowlie was such a conversant dude,
a fact that we may well have guessed;
and all conversations were polite, never lewd
but with Skype® he was fully obsessed!

We also knew of that fire,
the heat, palpitation,
and bubbly flurry of excitement
surrounding such interplay of the sexes;
after all, we had been through that wringer
– each of us more than a few times, as had he.

But now Rowlie had the magnitude
of longitude to contend with,
which, as we could see from the chat,
didn’t interfere in the least
with verbal communication,
but severely impeded steamy skin contact!

08/04 Direct Link
Today is FOUR. Or is it THREE?
This I implore and ask of thee.
Was it 3, most likely 4?
I cop a plea at your front door.

It is at this juncture that Davey began to seriously drag ass, most likely due at least in part to chemical inputs from hoteliers’ carpet treatments, which were understandable, given everyone’s deathly fear of bedbug infestations.

He realized, much to everyone’s chagrin – meaning all car occupants – that culling, collecting, collating and carrying compost around in its increasingly fetid state was akin to nasal assault of the highest order.
But Davey was adamant.
08/05 Direct Link
To continue on the traveling compost thread:

It appeared that Davey’s stark stinky realization
had not fully solidified
in the context of others’ well being
under the vast overarching theme
of the rapidly deteriorating ‘human condition’.

”Many rotting fish in the sea,” said he
about that fermenting provision.
“They swim ‘round with glee
and so it seems to me
that therefore we can’t ALL go fishin’.”

Hitherto, we did dither, blue
and neither here nor there,
but surely knew
we would go, two
of the when and where:
onward, upward, northward!

Here’s not 2 B freakin’
in dear old Absecon!
08/06 Direct Link
Many oval bumper stickers – of the kind that informs fellow follower motorists as to the inhabitants’ physical or birth origins – adorned ass ends of obese SUV’s heftily ensconced upon lanes wide enough to accommodate them in their petro-consumptive glory as we barreled along the Interstate.

One absurd monition popped out of the pack:

DO AC.

But that’s to be expected in a state swooned then swindled early on by the siren song of casino gambling.

In ‘Doing AC’, you’d be appalled by rank poverty’s juxtaposition plopped in the midst of glaring feel-good glitz.
It’s enough to give ya the shitz.
08/07 Direct Link
During a prior jaunt to this casino-tainted haunt, our fair colleague had informed us as to causes and conditions surrounding the glaring lack of simple grocery stores. I mean, Hell’s bells, they didn’t need to be the modern Big Box variety that stocks over 70,000 items; even a tiny general store would have sufficed.
As it stood, we were stood up by the dearth of stores. “At least you know where you stand,” she might have said.

Then our friend went on to say that Pathmark®
had a strong presence in AC, but rampant shoplifting drove them out of town.
08/08 Direct Link

Headed north, so as to go west
for what it’s worth, at our behest.
It’s vacay time, no need to worry
so be sublime; what use the hurry?

Cool, fresh air, the pleasure’s mine
as we pass a pastoral lair so fine!
Gladly turning off the phone
I happily scoff; it will leave us alone!

No place for stuff
my feet will gnash
I’ve had enough
of this slick-assed dash!

Past the garden statuary
at the roadside nursery
concrete so contemporary
seems like they’re waving to me!

As this trip’s tenure winds down fast
Soon we’ll croon: “Home at last!”

08/09 Direct Link

After the visit with Anne – during which Jane tagged along, providing luxurious wheels in the form of her peppy Chrysler 300 – Davey fell gastronomically ill. Was it that plate of nachos? Or maybe the soupy beans, which, when slathered with all that bottled hot sauce, formed a fiery swill that burned all the way down and out. But the ‘out’ didn’t happen soon enough, as per a prior post.
Earplugs were a necessity in that incredibly noisy joint, which is hardly surprising in any place that serves booze.
When ethanol hits imbiber’s auditory nerve endings, the dulling effect is profound.

08/10 Direct Link

Peace, prayer, & counseling center
with decorative sign in Chinese.
From Camden to Winslow
we do indeed go slow
on country roads like these.

We saw not one,
not two,
but friggin' THREE pickup trucks
on front lawns sporting FOR SALE signs
– and all within a quarter-mile of each other.

Chinese sign,
3 pick 'em up trucks,
this wallet's still mine,
and still has its bucks.
But my fate will unravel
as long as we travel
it's tiring, and besides, it SUCKS!

Veering 'oer Route 73,
off of Winslow,
straight, you see.

A rumble seat for the likes of me!

08/11 Direct Link

Nights sucked. In fact, Davey came to loathe the very likelihood of hotel bunking – with its vagaries too numerous to mention.

When sleep eventually arrived, grotesque dreams followed suit, tumbling through his fog in a hodgepodge, and were clustered in that thin slice of grogginess just before pitchin' off the sheets.

In one such dream, a bad case of athlete's foot threatened Davey H's relative homeostasis, festering as he fussed with it.

Next in the dream-drama came a movie-like horror featuring a group of horseback-mounted Arab men clad in white tunics, sporting rifles and looking for something to shoot at.

08/12 Direct Link

Continuing the absurd, violent dreamscape, the aforementioned armed Arab gents – possibly reveling in exercising their Second Amendment rights, should they have been so ensconced on American soil – had as their marks another group of similarly clad men who were either seated or standing, thus not having horse muscle motility advantage.
Though it took 50 words to comprise this continuance-based introductory paragraph, Davey can assures it was necessary.
Of course nobody will read it. So screw it. Davey can get as wordy as he likes.

Next, the horse-mounted gunmen fired upon the pedestrians, who blazed away with weapons of their own.

08/13 Direct Link
Departing Princeton, road lettered,
littered,
numbered.
Look! A shoe in the road!

Then, lo and behold:
a perfectly good bungee cord,
or which we should perfectly well have slowed
and friggin’ picked up
by an arboretum off Devon Drive.

Soon it was 3:30 p.m., time to arrive.

Then Diane Rehm arrived on NPR.
Her show provides intelligent,
intelligently presented alternatives to mainstream.

So many cars on the road,
so little time.
Time is always short, the roads long.
Construction.
Delays.
Lights in a maze.
So is it lights, camera, ACTION on these days?
Sure, a few good pix were taken.
08/14 Direct Link
In all this insouciant travel-based hullaballoo, Davey H neglected to commemorate August 9th, which, despite the passage of time and shortening of our collective memories, is the anniversary of our nation’s horrific crimes against humanity in the form of “our” attack on Hiroshima.

In retrospect, however – deemed as per the old adage that ‘hindsight is always 20-20’ – “our” despicable and imbecilic bombing bloodbath visited upon the sleepy town of Dresden, Germany was actually a much larger murderous binge.

Dresden’s aftermath was brilliantly danced around in ‘Slaughterhouse Five’ by the late Kurt Vonnegut, who described exhuming burnt corpses from bombed-out ruins.
08/15 Direct Link
Back to the concrete and macadam for more hastily composed travelogue, Davey H had noted some Ginkgos growing seemingly out of concrete sidewalks in Pompton Lakes as he luxuriated in the gustatory delight of ‘Grandma’ pizza.

Sun blared on his unprotected pink schnozzle.

He needed earplugs continuously due to the a near-steady stream of odiously noise-spewing motorcycles and urban trammeling traffic in general.

Being a farmboy, Davey wasn’t used to all this friggin’ racket, and took great consolation in the fact that he didn’t need nor did he want to put up with such auditory pollution on a regular basis.
08/16 Direct Link
Off to the Egg – not to differ we beg
now THAT was a way-cool trip!
And Moody Sue,
we’re telling you,
had her usual countenance grip.

With camera in tow
I snapped her, you know
and she proffered her usual grin;
we arrived so damn early
that it made her hair curly
but eventually we all got in!

This in retrospect
so please don’t object
as this torrid summer’s not over;
seats were less than perfect
so we felt quite hen-pecked
but Sue? Mighty crazy we drove her!

The Egg all concrete
and it looked pretty neat
Our visit complete.
08/17 Direct Link

From somewhere, somehow, some way, some day, Davey had heard it was Davey Crockett’s birthday today, but could neither confirm nor deny such a claim or explain it away.
Now, here he was on paragraph # 2 – writing 'behind' – damn near ten days lagging.
So needless to say his ass was dragging.

It so happened Davey H was infatuated with Davey Crockett's story in the '60's, when Mom & Dad presented him with one of those giant kid-friendly picture books in which Crockett was the centerpiece.

That coonskin cap fit Crockett well, but he could have used some cheap sunglasses.

08/18 Direct Link
A new bar? SCREW bar!
No need for it 'round here;
for the new bar would be FUBAR
if its served up much more than beer!

Now don't get me wrong, folksters;
this 'sports bar' thing has gone a little too far.
They're popping up like flies on dogshit,
bringing their noisy revelers
to gawk and squawk at giant flat panel televisions.

So when JD the master burrito chef decided to close up shop, selling out to one of those redundant jockstrap ethanol-swilling putz collection agencies, we were duly depressed.

But in the grand scheme of things, it was best.
08/19 Direct Link
JD the master burrito constructor had cheerily served us in exemplary fashion for many a year – even through those Friday night tribulations in which metal bands exuding extremely high decibel levels frequented his place of habañero-laced purveyance.

But he never dreamed a fan of his fiery comestibles would craft a 37 word sentence in waxing effusive over the indefatigable JD Burritomeister.

Yes, he had departed the business, noting all the while the place lacked feasible feng-shui.

At last glance, work crews had begun the seemingly unnecessary task of gutting the place in preparation for the assault that was to come.
08/20 Direct Link
Oh, Davey H clearly was negligent in properly delineating a true and accurate accounting of the extent of automotive foibles during that aforementioned southward jaunt, and in so doing, let readers down due to wont.

As was possibly but not certainly mentioned in previous posts, the speed sensor in our old buggy failed, meaning neither speed nor miles put on car were displaying.

This ordinarily does not present impediments to either forward or rearward locomotion, but would, for example, throw the proverbial monkey wrench into the gears of a future sale of the automobile in question, in this case, ours.
08/21 Direct Link
Hoping for a better day
however hobbled and hobbling;
Davey H was in knots, he'd say
due to lumbar-sacral throbbing.
But Davey, had a good foray
'twas time to go hobnobbing!

He pulled up his bootstraps
and took a few craps
then drank some strong-ass tea;
he plotted a course and needed no maps
outside – for reverie!

Actually, 8 and 20 'twas trouble aplenty
with each glitch, the worse it got;
so Davey H won't tell you a fib:
no way! He'll shit you not!

So this was the day of twenty and one
and time for plenty of fun!

08/22 Direct Link
Medicinal Herbal Queries

Now what to tell Bryan
and that without cryin'
I'll take whatever suggestion;
with my ass in the pan
I am sizzlin' and fryin'
and so have a really quick question!

So I take him to task
not quite sure what to ask
as my mental energy lags;
our connection does suck
seems we're right out of luck
so the conversation then drags.

So what to do? I ask this of you
when you're butted up to a brick wall;
lament but stay true
though you're getting the screw
and what's worse, you can't do it all!
08/23 Direct Link
Deb gave us a bloated up giant zucchini
in keeping
with what she thought were our needs,
but that puffy green blimp
was a month well past 'teeny'
and surely chock full of fat seeds!

So we graciously took it,
whilst looking askance,
but wouldn't dare cook it
if given the chance
then proffer a silent “HELL, NO!” in advance!

But in the grand scheme
of zucchini chronology
here's a good theme:
we'll accept her apology,
then query her if given the chance
“would YOU eat it, Deb – in its fibrous glory?”
It's part of the dance – and this story!
08/24 Direct Link
Whoa, Noah! Hold fast that Ark!
Better yet, better put it in 'PARK'!
'Cause we have two more elephants
for the ride, if you dare:
one's named 'medical devices'
oh, that name so entices!
The other is misnamed 'health “care”'.

Oh, the fussing, pissing, kvetching, griping, moaning, groaning, yelling, tall tale telling, beefing and grunting and corporate fronting and supposedly popular ground-swelling that surrounds the megalithic expansion of mainstream medicine into our lives and pockets!

Call it what you will – even name it after our gifted orator President, but it will largely be a bonanza for wealthy, well connected industries.
08/25 Direct Link
For those of us who lived and lost
and pissed and missed,
accursed we tossed
we fumbled and tumbled,
our lives embossed
procuring lust, hells bells it is just
a damn shame things turn dry as dust
and have such extravagant cost!

But these philosophies will inevitably fail to pierce
Wal*Mart shoppers’ thick-skulled craving fierce
on any given day
as they skitter away
on a vast oil-stained asphalt expanse
under ever-present surveillance cameras' glance,
dodging bubble-gum splotches,
cigarette butts,
and others’ flatus gas discharge
on the way
to purchasing cheap plastic Chinese imports.

But returns are easy; plastic dies quickly.
08/26 Direct Link
Another Monday, another challenge. Or series thereof. Is Davey H up to the task?

Who should he ask?
Will he lazily bask?

Or opt to enthusiastically dive into relentless thrashing pursuit of American dollars or set out to diagnose and commence necessary and unfortunately long overdue repairs on an essential form of terrestrial transportation?

Regardless, he can perform flawlessly – or at least far better – without being yelled at.

Rain swooshed in overnight, dancing on Davey's thin metal roof with not so welcome staccato.
Braving the drenched tall-ass grass this morning, Davey hastened shed-ward, whistling all the while with smooth-as-glass vibrato.

 
08/27 Direct Link
Humidity returned with a vengeance, slaying all manner of manual laborers' spurious energy, laying them low. That meant Davey too, you know!? But hey, ho, off to work Davey go!

Cobbling together some kind of cogent plan – ever the bane of the disorganized Davey H – he nonetheless managed to get in a good half day: the SECOND half.
“I'd not make a very good contractor,” he muttered, conjuring images of those local arduously immersed journeymen who arrive on  job sites at 6:35 a.m.

Pails, drills, coffee swills,
nails and hammers in hand;
those working-class shills
do a task mighty grand!
08/28 Direct Link
Grading that Tom mansion's driveway would be the biggest challenge to date for mufti-clad Davey H. In fact, Davey found parts of his brain long dormant for lack of use.
They would need to hustle up for this occasion.
Thus, let the rollin' begin!

But today,
immediately after the TV dish/satellite goof
professed inability
to scale Tom's steeply-pitched roof,
Tom waxed not so aloof.

Trees were the culprit.
Hey, no shit.
Davey had heard songs like it
before
– trimming a bit,
and then some more.

“Between television and solar, locals like these are declaring friggin' war on trees,” Davey said.
08/29 Direct Link
MLK was fond to say
too many good words
to list here, eh?
Too bad he wasn't here to stay!

In quoting that infamous Bill of Rights
he may have started political fights.
In noting “all men are created equal”,
what if instead, he inserted a sequel:
Subtracting the “C”
and put in a “T”
so all could be TREATED equal?

To that, we say, a “touché!” retort
though on the way
this Davey H bray
is late one day
and at least a dollar short.

As a freckle-faced kid of chalky white
I barely knew of this MLK fight.
08/30 Direct Link
Dayum, it's September friggin' 2nd already!
So who is going to snitch me out?
My insouciant posts so airy, not heady;
their 100 Words rulebook do flout!

Hey, like, I work for a livin', y'know? And usually most days, it's off to the salt mines I go.
Then, if and only when I have made sufficient dough, I'll plop in the chair and offer this fare, or if not, then off it I'll blow!

In chronicling today's events, the Tom mansion's 'S'-shaped serpent-friggin'-tine driveway was brought to bare, completed in the proverbial nick of time prior to late-night pummeling rains.
08/31 Direct Link
Actually, a touch-up sewed up the driveway project in today's favorable weather, with heat relenting somewhat.

Whew! A whale of a task
which I'll tell you if asked
and to hear it you surely will wanna;
for I worked off my ass
in humidity basked
'cause for sure it was just like a sauna!

So here's the catch, Satch:
One generally does not enter into a sauna situation with the intent of working one's ass off. But such is the case, Ace.
Fact is, it is foisted upon us, the outdoor manual and skilled laborers, by virtue of ambient conditions.