King Kong’s Catastrophic Calamity

•August 12, 2015 • Leave a Comment

imageNo one told him about the airplanes and he certainly had not read the script…

After all, gorillas couldn’t read right?

Well maybe not but this was no ordinary gorilla.

This, this was the Mighty Kong, King Kong to you thank you very much!

King had been to the “States” once before many years ago when a group of capatalist money hunters had captured him in the jungles of Africa. King hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t think much of his visit now as neither time was what one might consider a pleasure trip nor even a business one for that matter.

No, this was an involuntary journey made by Kong at the demand of his once former owner, front man, capitalist pig captor, Arie’ B. Rehnquist, traveler-hunter extraordinaire.

Mr. Rehnquist, oft times referred to as “The Big Pig”, was in no way shape or form a  friend to King Kong. No this flat footed, loose lipped, crooked toothed mongrel of a fortune seeking scoundrel was anything but a friend as his actions could only be interpreted by Kong, and those who knew him and the situation best, would, could and in fact did describe this as a heinous calamity of the greatest order caused by one Arie’ B. (as in Boregarde) Rehnquist.  image

This after all was the capture and forced servitude of the Mighty Kong, the all powerful, often times jungle reeking gorilla of the greatest proportions. Why he could, did and once again would climb the tallest buildings with mere fingers and toes, sweep airplanes away with in a singular snort from his nose, then regale his body atop the great Empire State in his most lofty repose.

No ordinary gorilla was he this Mr. Kong, and Jane, you remember Jane, she plain out loved the big gorilla. And many others in the feminine order of reluctant yet heroine-like bold-as-can-be ladies, agreed with Jane’s take on the ape. image

Today we see the dilemma laid out before us for what it truly was, is and forever shall be, in fiction, fact or fantsasy, a case of – ENTRAPMENT!

Yes that’s right, poor King had been spied upon, put upon and preyed upon till he had no “pons” left and was forcibly removed from his noble yet humble jungle environment and violently transgressed upon and transferred to the slick streets of New York City.

Ah, but Kong was not to be out done, oh no, he still had some tricks left up his sleeveless yet very hairy arms. He had been in a similar situation once before if you will recall and he reached into his inner self for the courage and strength that he so desperately needed now.

ARGH ARATAFFAT!

This cry he uttered from the very tip of the top of the Empire State Building. Precariously balancing astride the piercing antennae with his big little toes, King swatted away one plane then two planes, while yet maintaining his grasping grip on Jane; for if he lost hold of her now, why – “shudder” – she would fall to her most certain and absolute death.

As King snarlled and snapped at the attacking aircraft he kept his balance and…

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 Ladies and Gentlemen – we will have to wait and return next week for the continuation of this series. 

Surprised? You shouldn’t be. You have seen the movie, haven’t you?

The Clowns

•August 29, 2014 • 2 Comments

Clowns are forever creatures. That is they can live on in our memories, our hearts for a long, long time.

I remember this clown that I met…

One time long ago, I was very young and impressionable. It’s funny now that I think about it, I don’t mean that the clown was funny. No, no that’s not right either as it’s not that the clown wasn’t funny. The clown was just a clown darn it, a good clown and … now I forget what I was going to say, oh yes, what was funny was I couldn’t tell if the clown was a guy or a girl, you know, male or female. I mean you would think that to be a part of the human race you are either one or the other but not with clowns, at least not with this clown. But I don’t think it made any difference for this clown didn’t seem to care, this clown was all smiles and happy, full of life you know. At the same time, the very same time, this clown was sad too, really sad. You could take that smiley face of his, or hers, and just turn it upside down and the clown was the clown, the same clown only different. What am I saying, you must think I’m nuts or something. Well anyway, clowns are forever creatures and they can change your life-if you let them. Do you have a clown living with you, or maybe next door or even down the street. Surely there is a clown in the city that you live in, surely there is. I suggest that you go meet this clown. Tell him your sorry for the times you laughed at him not with him and the times when you should have laughed and did nothing at all. Tell him, why, tell him that you love him!

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“Skelton and Marcel Marceau shared a long friendship and admiration of each other’s work. Marceau said, “Red, you are eternal for me and the millions of people you made laugh and cry. May God bless you forever, my great and precious companion. I will never forget that silent world we created together. “

JUDY COLLINS – Send In The Clowns        http://youtu.be/KCE-Bijdvv0

Isn’t it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air..
Where are the clowns?

Isn’t it bliss?
Don’t you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can’t move…
Where are the clowns?image
Send in the clowns.

Just when I’d stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours.
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines…
No one is there.

Don’t you love farce?
My fault, I fear.
I thought that you’d want what I want…
Sorry, my dear!
But where are the clowns
Quick – Send in the clowns
Don’t bother, they’re here.

Isn’t it rich?
Isn’t it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career.
But where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns…
Well, maybe next year.

Clowns are forever creatures. They live on in our hearts and minds, can spark one’s imagination, add a twinkle to your eye, a lift for your spirit, a new chapter to your life’s book … a portal to your soul. Clowns are industrious, always ready to work, not stopping until the job is finished, until they have achieved tvikelly6heir purpose and ministered to the crowd, the circus crowd, the street crowd, the individual one on one, the lonely one at the office, the quiet one staying at home. It’s true, clowns are forever creatures that you can know too. You cacircus clownn you know if you really want too, it’s not hard or scary. You don’t even have to go out the front door or leave your house at all, really, I’m not kidding. You should try it, I have, I did, I mean, I invite clowns in all the time now.  Sometimes one at a time and sometimes in BUNCHES!11-cad-with-clownsClowns are forever creatures, sometimes happy and sometimes sad but,

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I have never, ever met a clown that was bad.  I have never, ever met a clown that was bad. I have never, ever met a clown that was bad. Never!

Nanook Of The North – The Legend

•August 6, 2009 • 9 Comments

The Ig-a-loo

It’s been said, that a long, long time ago, deep into the frozen tundra of the ever present, winter north lands, roamed an icy creature called Nanook, Nanook of the North. Although this story may be just a legend passed about from mouth to ear, generation to generation of the great Eskimo Tribes of the Arctic Circle, many believe in the awesome and fearful Nanook, still believe it to this day.

It is said that once upon a time, a fur trapper was hunting baby seals for the fur trade, up in the Arctic Circle. There were numerous fur trappers in the area but none who would venture this far North into the cold, into the night of winter, into the homeland of the awesome and fearsome-Nanook.The Fur Trapper

This particular fur trapper was mean, he was evil, he was treacherous, he was a bad man. Most who hunted the choice baby seals, did so for survival. I mean, a man’s gotta’ eat, right? But not this fur trapper. No. He hunted the baby seal for-pleasure. Duh duh duh dunnnn! The baby seal was small, tiny, teeny-weeny and it was white. It was a symbol amongst the great Eskimo Tribes, of goodness, of all that  was right with the world. To them it was a sin to harm or damage the baby seals life or lifestyle in any way.

Well, this evil, bad fur trapper one very cold, very dark day, in the midst of  a driving snowy, blizzard, happened upon, stumbled upon, came upon even, a primitive Ig-a-loo. It was made of frozen blocks of ice with a short tunnel like entrance. It had what appeared to be a chimney venturing straight up from the top of it. It had what looked like trails of smoke rising above it a foot or two but, it was so dark, so frigid, so- so cold that, the very plumes of smoke were frozen! We are talking cold here.

Well, the fur trapper happened upon this Ig-a-loo and to his delight found that there were a least a dozen baby seals huddled up and against the Ig-a-loo for the little warmth it exuded. The little, tiny, teeny-weeny baby seals were snuggled together apparently happy and content in this, their chosen, Godgiven environment when suddenly – duh duh duh dunnn. The fur trapper picked out the choicest, the teeniest-weeniest, whitest baby seal and….Baby Seal Killer

He started into whipping on this most favorite of baby seals with, with, yes with, a lead filled snowshoe!

 Oh man, oh boy, oh brother, was he in for it now. From inside the Ig-a-loo rose a great roar, a great cry, a great, um, shout of disapproval, no more like a great shout of anger, yes, of rage even. It was the fearsome, the awesome, the nostalgic and great one, about whom Frank Zappa sung, Nanook of the North – The Legend!!!

 Oh my, was he mad, angry even. Baby Seal

Nanook did not bother with exiting from the Igaloo tunnel, no he rose up and burst through the sides, the roof, the frozen plumes of smoke even, and the blocks of ice crumbled into miniscule grains of frozen “icelets”. Upon seeing the evil fur trapper whipping upon his favorite tiny, teeny-weeny, white baby seal, he roared with rage – Roarrr! 

Felonious Fur TrapperThis froze the felonious, fearful fur trapper in his fur trapping tracks and he dropped the baby seal. He had his arms outstretched, trying to make his get away but to no avail. Nanook bent down, he reached down, he then scooped out, a generous mitten full of the  deadly- yellow snow. Yes!  The deadly yellow snow from right there where the huskies go.The Unknown Un-named Fur Trapper

He then proceeded to rub the yellow snow into the eyes of the frozen in place fur trapper until he stood there, with his arms outstretched and said, “I can’t see, do do do do doooo, I can’t see-e, oh do do do dooo”.

Nanook - The LegendIt was at that precise moment that the fur trapper began to break apart and crumble, disintegrating into the ice and snow of the Tundra.

Meanwhile, back at the Ig-a-loo, as the fur trapper disintegrated the Ig-a-loo integrated, that is, it miraculously re-assembled itself, frozen smoke plumes and all, the fearsome, the mighty, the all knowing all seeing, Nanook, seeing that his group of baby seals were safe and huddling back around the Igaloo, he picked up his favorite, tiny, teeny-weeny, little baby seal, re-entered his re-assembled yet ever still, humble abode, and rested.

I do attest to this day, on whatever day it is, that this story in time, is a true and accurate account of these events and can be verified if not justified by the meaningless, meandering melodies, of the aforementioned song’s, the infamous and now deceased, Frank Zappa.   

And The Old Soldier Rested

•June 8, 2009 • Leave a Comment

 

Before The Silence

Before The Silence

  

 

 Pontiac Springs was the name of the town. Duke was rocking on the porch as usual with Facia his old dog. Rocking, rocking, rocking. Every day pretty much the same now so different than 65 years ago when he was just a young buck. Yeah, so many years ago, only 18 and so innocent, so green, so young. That’s what they did you know, put the young, inexperienced ones up front. Yeah. They were all full of vinegar ready to go, let’s fight us some of those bad boys, so full of themselves. What did they know, what did they know? Nothing of course. Nothing of what was lying ahead of them. Just like the other young boys who weren’t cowards by any means just, well just plain scared. And they too were as innocent as the sun on a brand new day. Yep, green. I know what your thinking young fellow, why not put the more experienced guys up front? You know, some battle hardened vets who have been there before and could maybe handle the situation better but, no, that wouldn’t be any good at all. They knew what to expect and although they certainly would follow orders and act accordingly, they would maybe hesitate before moving forward or look for another way around this rather than straight ahead so…  it was the young ones that went first, yeah, they were first into the storm.

Go, Go, Go, Go…

 Then old Duke was there, there on the beach. 

Yep. I was there alright. Lying face down in the sand and water all red and messy with all kinds of nasty smelling stuff.  I thought, ” man it’s so quiet I must have made it to a really safe spot or buried so deep that I can’t see and can’t be seen, and I sure can’t hear a darn thing. Maybe I really did make it all the way and I’m in heaven now” but, no, no. That’s when my hearing started coming back kind of  one “pop” at a time. A loud blast to my left, now I did hear that. The constant chatter of some kind of weapon spitting out  flames dozens no hundreds every minute! Damn! 

When I tried lifting my head up out of the sand and water my helmet went flying off, shot off and I dropped my head back in that sand so quick and sucked in a breath almost chocking, gagging, and I realized it was red with blood and oh man, that was part of some guys insides, oh man and crap, literally crap, in my mouth from this guy lying almost on top of me only, he wasn’t a guy any more. At least not a whole guy. Shit!

I’m tired, so tired.

And Duke just sat there rocking now, rocking. Facia the dog, was looking up at his old master and wondering why the chair was slowing down. It never went fast but, now it came to a stop. It got awfully quiet.

Very, very quiet.

And The Old Soldier Rested.       

The Ballad of the Busy Buzzard – an excerpt

•March 16, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Baby-BuzzardThe buzzard was a cry’n as he just kept a try’n  to be a lap escapee. Well granma wouldn’t have it so she took her old Nun Habit and beat upon the man named Tee. The man started cry’n the harder he was try’n but he was cry’n wee, wee, wee. His tears started flowin and they all started goin in the jar with the buzzard on his knee. So now don’t you know it I’m soundin like a poet it’s all bout that very large buzzard you see. If he wasn’t so busy he wouldn’t get so dizzy and be surprising ole Grandma and me.

The Who’ a And The Roo’ a

•March 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

                         The Who’ a and the Roo’a   OR     

The Chi Hua Hua Who Befriended A Roo’a

 

There once was a Roo’a he always liked to chewa on a kind of red beet stew’a.

Up and down up and down the Roo’a had to climb. He would huff and puff so frantically to get to his seat in time.

Roo’a sat in his usual place next to Spido, Bump and Wee. He gave a start when across from him a stranger did he see. Oh my, oh my, oh my, my, my, my, my. Just who’a can this stranger be? The stranger sat all alone you see all alone on this day was he.He thought to himself what shall I say to make a friend of me? So he left behind the place he had been, it was dark  yes dark, dark, dark. 

It was then that he:    Opened his mouth to sing

                                                        His mind to think  and for

                                                              Love, he opened his heart. 

                                                     wallaby-baby

Gone To War

•January 4, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Joey come home no more, he’s gone to war….

“Wha…. Wh … W …. ?”

JOEY NO COME HOME – HE’S GONE TO WAR

THE BATTLEFIELD

•September 16, 2016 • 1 Comment

THE BATTLEFIELD

Shells bursting, men crying
Oh God, my God, Why have you forsaken me?
Trumpets sound, rivers flow,
staunch the blood now or he will go
No time left for those who fell,
rivers of blood rush freely thru hell
Cry out my sons my daughters for those who died
Your turn may come when you close your eyes
one final time to view this field
on which your souls have been revealed
To brothers and sisters whose fates are sealed
Only grave stones remain today
to mark the paths of those who stayed.

To Stand for Freedom

•August 9, 2016 • Leave a Comment

To Stand for Freedom
to heed the call
When others abandon
the hope of all
Some remain standing
while others fall
To Stand for Freedom
a friend is down
another strong and tall
Mothers cry for their fallen sons
Stand tall my boy till your
work is done
Freedom cries it’s tears of blood
Stand tall my son till Freedom is won

Mormon Tabernacle Choir – Hymn to the Fallen

Airborne On D-Day in the air

•May 25, 2016 • Leave a Comment

image

Holy shit, what was that?!
We’re hit, we’re hit!

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Hold that heading!
Red light red light-Get ready-Everyone up!
Check equipment – Green light

Go go go!

GO!

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Jimbo was hit while still in the plane. Crappie went out before me as I was sucked along by the force of the line in front and behind me.

I screamed as the plane exploded just as I cleared the door.

I felt the terror growing and churning in the pit of my stomach, it worked it’s way up through my chest and throat then hit my brain like a flash of lightning. Shrapnel and bright shells blasted all around me and finally, I saw the right engine on fire torn loose from it’s wing with a terrific shock wave – whoomp!

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A tremendous whirring sound added to the cacophony of air, wind, explosions and… Oh my God… the right propeller was coming straight at me, then Woosh! It was gone.

Pow! My chute opened… oh God- I’m alive, I’m alive I thought, at least for the moment.

Holy Mary Mother of God, Blessed Art Thou among women and…”

imageFunny how that is, in addition to the M1 garrand in my mitts, I was still holding the rosary beads my mother had pressed into my hand before leaving home. “Johnny, you remember to say a prayer, ask The Holy Mother to protect you” yeah sure momma, I’ll remember.

Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus...”

The whole time out from loading up to jump run I was thinking, of the past, growing up always wanting to be the hero of the day. Watching the greats playing baseball, the Yankees and the Brooklyn Dodgers; Ty Cobb, Lou Gerig and the all time best of the best- The Babe… Babe Ruth.  Anyone of them, whack one swing and it’s gone. Boy what I wouldn’t give to be out in those grandstand bleachers now. Warm sun blasting down on my shoulders, Stan and Walt behind me and Grace right there next to me with her cute little tush following her cheering legs up and down. “Hit another one Babe”, she yelled. Then, “Aww come on Ump, that was no strike.” Other than her voluptuous curves and obvious femininity, why Grace was just like one of us guys. She loved baseball.

That was then and this… Why this is now I thought. I’ve traded a bleacher seat for an Airborne seat, instead of a ticket to the game I got a ticket and maybe a one way ticket at that, to the biggest if not greatest, show on Earth. So how come I’m not cheering now? In fact no one was cheering or saying much of anything. The seats were hard and uncomfortable, no box seats on this baby. “Bottom’s Up” was the name of our “lady” that night, the C-47 cargo plane outfitted for Rangers. Carrying all thirty of us paratroopers to the “ballpark” tonight just inland some twenty-five miles or so from the coming action on the Normandy beaches.

June 6, 1944  D-Day Normandy, Francais

(to be continued… for some but not all)

The Mind Jungle

•April 25, 2016 • Leave a Comment

Trudging through this morass of emotions, thoughts and actions I come to a halt… What could be more self-defeating than this… a blockade!

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Metaphysical spheres of life cascading about the wilderness of past living. Actions contributing to effects, one of Newton’s Laws of Physics: For every action or force there is an equal response to it, a force of action in the opposite direction. A constant battle of power without direct willful intent, the opposite of “poetry in motion”, an indiscriminate source of haphazard destruction.

Birth, death, the stages of one’s life flash past my eyes with incredible speed. Loose ends and dying embers of hope challenge my existence with yet another new start, a beginning with no end in sight, a transient being shattered before it’s time, no longer capable of maintaining even the occupation of one’s own orbit.

A pit of darkness looms ahead and behind. Fathomless oceans of old desires, wants and deedless determination culminating in… In what? An end too foreboding to comprehend for its very own existence cannot be accepting if one wishes to remain amongst the living.

And if not you may ask, if life is no longer a part of the plan, then what?

That remains to be seen my friend if you will but rise with me again tomorrow.

 

 

 
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