BY Davey H

07/01 Direct Link
It’s July the first,
bits too spry at worst
with so much word work to complete;
thus in Word® immersed
all awry was reversed
Davey won’t shrink
but will rather compete.

As sun burned hot
this one spurned rot
and bit as the ‘hair of the dog’;
yet it was not
such a sad polyglot
so we commenced to cut on the log.

This log sure was big
no allure; what the frig?
But could not be put off one more day;
so farmboy danced a jig
and welcomed the gig
and continued to whipsaw away.

Glass worms, be gone!
07/02 Direct Link
Give it the gun,
and make it quick, Hon!
Please, we need to get done
though this thing weighs a ton.
Yes, we’re under hot sun
if you’ll pardon the pun
I’m not trying to stun
we must hasten to run
while we’re here so homespun
before we have fun.

Whew! Who’d have thunk it,
this hard labor of finding absurd rhymes
with the suffix ‘un’.
Davey could go back and UN-do that,
but he has other tasks beckoning,
thank you very much.

It is time to get down and dirty
in the Out-back®,
where cutting, fussing and cussing waits.
07/03 Direct Link
That day, not night
I got a bogus invitation.
It made me stay uptight
but it caused no consternation.
So suffice to say that invite, eh
‘twas an easy thing to shirk
then the invite went away
all in day’s play – not work!

Then, here come the rains.
Apparently some latent side effects
that Doppler radar still detects
from friggin’ hurricanes.

Down south, they said.
How many left dead?
This sad fact one reviews:
such storms all fear, my dear, with dread,
but deaths will make the news.
But don’t forget to check Internet
on the weather site you choose.
07/04 Direct Link
Somebody sent a sordid message today regarding the bloody fate of those original 56 signers of our ostensibly great Constitution.

All text sat reasonably well whilst reading this missive until the end, where the utterly revolting, intelligence-insulting, facile jingoist catch-phrase “WAKE UP, AMERICA!” was pasted.

Thus ciphered my interest's epitaph.

I wrote back demanding explanatory expositions such as what happened to the unfortunate indentured souls deemed to be 3/5ths of a person, who built governor's mansions and plantations. Also, it would be good to know what became of those “pagan savages” who resided on this land before “we” usurped it.
07/05 Direct Link
Today, once again, Davey H pays tribute, however weakly, to a bygone acquaintance, the late Tuck Garvey, who lost his life on this day in 1985.

The scumbag pieces of shit that committed this cowardly, sinful act will have to live with themselves and most likely burn in hell.

As Davey no doubt mentioned in previous years' posts, the Tuckster was gunned down by the cretinous cowards late that night as he attempted to run for his car.

And as was also noted in aforementioned posts, Tuck's legs were severely compromised, which precluded any kind of running.

So he lost.
07/06 Direct Link
What a whale of a tale – that comet Bopp-Hale! Seventeen years ago we heard a sonnet;
that the comet Hale-Bopp
would soon rise to the top,
and some earthlings would then ride upon it.

Thus the theory feeder
had been their great leader
who assured a new era would dawn;
he'd surrendered his nuts
yes, no tiffs, hands or butts
and the next day all comers were gone.

They had bought it all
with vodka, a death combination;
drank it up, then laid down
in San Diego town
needing no more explanation.

So what good was their sexual abstinence?
07/07 Direct Link
Hear ye with glee!
See? “I” told ya so;
this world will be,
yes ultimately,
full of bull-flea
without “Maha Rushie”
that you most likely
need not to know.

But knowing that it's
a dread day for Brits
who in 2005 were not calming;
'cause two hell-bent guys
said many goodbyes
and took a whole subway quite by surprise
then proceeded with terrorist bombing.

Blast bodies were powered
peroxide in backpacks;
the blood spattered cowered
fresh from the attacks.

Such a terrible thing
that day nine years ago
now it has a dull ring
and we don't want to know.
07/08 Direct Link

Font for wont, the color: black.
Looks like good ol’ banal is back,
but I can't help this fizz-mind from roamin';
and some fonts are fun
when it's all said and done,
so please spare me
the damn Times New Roman!

In keeping with our closely held views
we detest most stuff that is in the news.

Feeling not contrite about it
we certainly will not write or shout it.

So as I close this silly rhyme
realizing it is wasted time,
the fonts are checked, detect and then
we use, enthuse and do not abuse
that perfect font: Sylfaen.

07/09 Direct Link

When it was all dead and sun, a few days’ full moon action was so much fun.
In fact, not to detract, the grate Davey H schlepped his featherweight digicam (YES, that IS a real word these days; apologies, annoying Spel-Cheqr ®) out for some hoped-for screen grabs of El Moono while standing on El Mundo draped by the eerie florescence.

Long-winded yarn clipped: he experimented with various shutter delays, finally settling on somewhere betwixt six and eleven seconds.

Of course he did not expect stellar results; the pix revealed the moon in all its fullness, albeit with fuzzy auras.

07/10 Direct Link

This full moon thing was one country livin’ perk that was certainly worth its weight in bold: the effervescent glow of the full moon, ya know, would rarely, if ever, get old.

No need for flashlights those three nights.

That reminds Davey: a forward-thinking medical doctor informed him that direct exposure of one’s forehead to this ethereal beam of moonlight was a highly therapeutic exercise, having the effect of stimulating one’s pineal gland.

Shrouded in mystery – unlike our sex glands that seem to be the only body parts ever focused upon – the pineal has been largely neglected by most folks.

07/11 Direct Link

Maybe it was today that a fast moving bite-ready dog tick clambered onto Davey H’s wrist.
Usually, the most important step in avoiding the dread Lyme disease is keeping these friggin’ nasty arachnids from biting in the first place.

The next morning, Davey awoke and peeled another doggie tick off his left cheek. Luckily, these were not ixodes scapularis (REAL friggin’ words! Imagine that! Though they’ll be red-lined, being Latin and not English)

As a point of reference, ‘friggin’ is well on its way to becoming an actual accepted word in colloquial English usage, courtesy of the grate Davey H.

07/12 Direct Link

Mom and brother Seve non-Ballesteros began their first of a kind annual visit today as we picked them up – separately – from the airport and trucked them to their temporary but highly comfortable quarters.

We ate, sipped seltzer and local tap water and babbled incessantly at times when such activities were not only permitted but encouraged, such as that unbelievably noisy restaurant with incoming customers lined up to the door.

Weather held and we were compelled
along with our just-average powers;
to walk the walk and talk the talk
whilst taking time to smell the flowers.

Time flew by, warp speed.

07/13 Direct Link
But three out of the four of us knew that it would not be long before some kind of outburst would pop the feel-good bubble of our tenuous familial social contact-immersion.

Sure enough, the night prior to departure, Seve non-Bellesteros razed Davey H’s equanimity with biting quantities of sarcasm and acerbic admonitions. Of course this was not entirely unwarranted, but the severity of reaction was unacceptably out of proportion to the annoyance level inherent in Davey H’s auditory provocations.

To date – though not much in the way of dates has elapsed since the aforementioned incident – no apologies have been proffered.
07/14 Direct Link

Still, the fact remains: no one family is any more dysfunctional, dissenting, or in didactic disarray than any other in this vast swell of humanity.

Anyway, during our tenure bopping around various local haunts and eateries, several foreign languages were heard over the weekend, one being Portuguese, another Italian.

No snide comments elicited from any peanut galleries upon hearing such interesting non-local inflections, and an atmosphere of respect prevailed, even among those within our cacophonous cadre who, due to close proximity to an unnamed border, frequently decried US immigration policies.

No, the chiding and deriding was reserved for immediate family.

07/15 Direct Link

Now, coming up on the middle of this torrid July, Davey emits a mournful cry:
“Golly gee; when I look and find,
looks to me, this is ten days behind!”
So he puts it on standby.

But that is perhaps normal for the ever-procrastinating Davey H, who rarely sits and thinks first thing in the morning, the optimal time segment for the purpose of making those first 100 words of the day hit paper before ancillary activities commence.

But a few cups
of pick-me-ups
such coal-dark coffee hence;
A Davey H groan
not answering phone
he stays atop the fence.

07/16 Direct Link
A torrential rain awakened anyone unlucky enough to be attempting to sleep under, say, a metal roof.

This wild and wooly washout occurred at some ungodly hour of the morning, maybe around 3 am.
It means: slap a foam earplug into whichever ear is facing up, then continue to bunk down.

Somewhere on the other side of the planet, though, the TRULY unlucky are cowering under a fusillade of bullets, rockets or ordinance fired from F-16s. It smacks of surreal futuristic Armageddon-esque Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.

P.J. O'Rourke wrote a book entitled “Peace Kills”.
So what the f*** was he thinking?
07/17 Direct Link
Today was a typical bust-ass hullabaloo with Davey swinging from ropes but languishing inextricably in general malaise that precluded energetic completion of operations.

Of course, sauna-like conditions prevailed throughout, with sweat rolling off his bawdy brow commensurately, and this didn’t help matters, but when he thought of it, his troubles were minuscule in the context of the greater El Mundo at-large.

Yes, out in the rest of the world, news was bad, bad, bad. Poor Malaysia! As if they needed such a trauma.

And what about Palestinians, already herded like animals into encampments, cowering under fire from illegal settlement constructors?
07/18 Direct Link
Fussing with various multifarious software and hardware glitches had tested Davey's patience to the point of rippin' lately.

As per the old adage, “Sh** Happens”, some things had indeed gone inexplicably awry, perhaps with many unhappy returns awaiting in the pipe.

It so happened one day that as Davey rummaged through a manila folder brimming with important papers (yes! Remember paper?!), he came across a thank you card which had been intended for important persons nestled in the important but wholly unrelated papers so rummaged.

'Fessing up to the Boss regarding this, Davey proclaimed his innocence in waylaying said papers.
07/19 Direct Link
Here in this house
with its ifs ands and butts
'tis better to mouse
than use keyboard shortcuts.
And when such said actions
are held thus aloft,
we see the attractions
of old Microsoft®.

But seriously now, folksters: Davey is not as up to snuff on this e-friggin' stuff. At least not in the context of creating, copying, culling, collating and coasting – NOT necessarily posting – these mini-essays in a timely fashion.

As he has perhaps puffed in prior parsimonious posts, he often prefers PAPER –  some stuffed into textile bags, some in stapled or folded impromptu books – to electronic verbiage construction.
07/20 Direct Link
Davey had an impromptu Sunday street meet with the illustrious, highly fit-to-the-point-of absurdity Alan, wishing to assure him that, in Davey H off-the-beaten-streetin' dialect,

“Yo, Alan, you are worth a full gallon!
Yeah, Al-ster, like, well, I damn well KNEW
Hell, no bell, it wasn't YOU
no, not you who
wrought the draconian, negative slew
of harsh words and adverbs, a roiling stew
and insults, more blurbs all setting askew
that made us all so mottled and blue.”

Indeed, Davey would have expatiated
and without ado or consternation
the stellar job Al had consecrated
when they called for his resignation.
07/21 Direct Link

Fresh off a soaking jaunt in the rain,
Davey hereby takes not-so-great pain
in coming clean once again
regarding his retarding
non-fascination with procrastination
whilst keeping himself somewhat sane.

Today is actually July 28th, and it is as if Davey was in deep space, unable to commit to culling those first 100 words of the day every day, in a relentless grind of forced organization and/or prioritization of tasks.

But truth be told, as per truth-telling of previous posts, he gabs and scrawls far in excess of the requisite one hundred,
but is, for all intents and purposes,
one hindered.

07/22 Direct Link

“I'm NOT drivin' in this sh**!” Davey hissed, slouching down in the partially adjustable leather seat of a rapidly rusting station wagon.
“This weather's fine if you're a DUCK,” he noted, avoiding the F-word, though it would have rhymed nicely with 'duck'.
Throughout the spring, dry weather had prevailed, but now it looked to be a good year after all for corn, that highly hybridized so-called grain that graced many a field nearby, though doubts did fly betwixt gal and guy as to whether the weather would read'ly comply and see corn knee-high by the proverbial Fourth of July.

07/23 Direct Link

'Twas mentioned previously that seashells, when crushed to perfection, make awesome footpaths. One can not only walk but CRUNCH, savoring every delicate foot song thereby.

Years ago (precise, eh?), we saw fascinating PBS footage of an archaeological dig that took place high on a mountain where, to the diggers surprise, seashell beds were found.

So who would foot the bill for this footpath at the foot of the hill?
The walker? Not so fast, Bucky; the walker may be on solid footing, but the funding for said footpath may or may not be fully or partially subsidized from state coffers.

07/24 Direct Link

I heard that the lively and chipper Chris had gotten fired from that new job he seems only to have had for a couple of weeks.
Now this would seem highly suspicious, and suffice to say it is time to prod upper management for some serious answers.

Was he shoplifting? Belligerent?
The latter is highly unlikely, so mystery prevails.

At the end of the day,
well, who else can say
what Chris's sure fate entails?
Now if I were Chris
I'd relax, take a piss
not worrying 'oer what would come of this
and puff out some self-employment sails.

07/25 Direct Link
When attempting to utilize a 'good enough for dummies and then some' word processing  program, Davey ran into a major stumbling block with the following error message appearing like an old-fashioned intrusive pop-up right in the middle of his 23” screen:

“Fatal Error:
language could not be determined.”

Needless to say,
Davey was not amused;
at the end of the day,
hell, what language was used?

No extras were needed
he moreover mused:
had his usage exceeded
or somehow abused?

Standard protocol with such foibles would be to run an uninstaller and click 'Modify', but that didn't fix the problem.
07/26 Direct Link

Nestled deep in the simmering crucible of software and hardware glitches were solutions to angst-producing circumstances, and Davey had figured – often by the process of organic 'osmosis' – how to muddle through, usually with a fair amount of success.
In this 'fest case scenario, the difficulty began with a drive-by sh** drop courtesy of an unseen and undetected browser hijacking scourge that quite possibly had spread to the 2nd hard drive in the same box. Ultimately, a switch of anti-malware applications meant, the newer version  became bit overzealous in its quarantine operations, corrupting the word processing software with resultant 'language barrier'.

07/27 Direct Link

Davey has hopefully learned a painful and potentially expensive and hassle-filled lesson in what and what not to allow into his machines.

“Careful what you click.”
That saying is mighty damn slick.
But what the hick?
It ain't worth a lick,
So we'd better get on the stick.

No damage done
and this wasn't fun
no matter how you wire us;
we'd just begun
our advancement, son
when we hand'ly dodged a virus.

The aforesaid anti-malware suite
had performed its function and was neat.
So far, so good, it seemed a good match;
here in Davey's 'hood, the viral patch.
07/28 Direct Link

Now here (is) this:
after all that installing
Davey, he got to calling
some of Uncle Sam's fine assistants;
then was put up on hold
he not being too bold
and continuing with staunch persistence.

Medicare Part D
it continued to be
the cause for his conversation;
But the ‘D’, you may see, it went straight to ‘Z’
and contributed much tribulation.

Then putting aside
Davey did well abide
and went out for some heavy lugging;
whilst his loved one so dear
lounged about without fear
and submitted to heavy-assed drugging.

Stuck up on the phone
Davey was not alone.

07/29 Direct Link

Fleshing out an itinerary for the day means, first and foremost, bringing one's wallet along.
Without that e$$ential piece of worldly apparatus, you might as well FART you a song.

It so happened this morning that Davey – who never effectively performs when embroiled in any inkling of a hurried or harried situation – blew out the door in an effort to be punctual.

Every time this unfortunate concatenation of events occurs in the oft-hectic Don'tLaughIt'sPaidForFarm morning routine, Davey H recalls fondly what an imbibing coworker stated years ago: “Long as I got some green friends with me ($ bills), I'm okay.”

07/30 Direct Link

While on the topic of 'money is needed for just about ANYTHING', let's wax pensive for a moment in a feeble attempt to query how and perhaps why we got here.

The FED is apparently tweaking our 'money supply' to the tune of numbers so large they fall off the page.

Banksters play the same game they have played for many decades, what with 'fractional reserve' banking holding sway over ostensible assets and near empty vaults on par with our empty imaginations as to

Funny, Davey figures his rumpled George Washingtons and Abe Lincolns still pass.

07/31 Direct Link

Rather than pontificate about today – which, truth be fortuitously told, is actually now YESTERDAY – Davey wonders what went right, i.e. correctly, as he didn't fall asleep on his feet as per usual.

And later even, when he was ensconced on his buttocks and engaged in a semi-passive (assive?) activity in which fatigue normally predominated, he again waxed jubilantly dominant over the sleep monster.

Could it have been, say, a serendipitous concerted chain of events such as waxing moon, cool nights and their commensurately effective sleep cycles, in addition to morning intake of the much-touted, highly nutritive, amino acid-laden Yerba Maté?