Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Too Much Free Tim(e)

If only we could figure out a way for computers to give out gravy.

Each unit could be engineered with a spout or spigot from which rich, meaty gravy flowed when you did something clever on them.

The computers would be set so that they would never give more than just enough gravy to keep the operator alive.

Never so much as to make the operator rich or fat.

And increasingly clever "goings on" on the computer would only insure that the sustaining amount of gravy flowed.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

A Self-Portrait, Imperfect.


Sometimes Monkey operated as if He had Sight perfected - a three-dimensional construct that took into account His Choices, Actions and Consequences - so perfected, in fact, that to the untrained eye it might appear that He cheated but sometimes that self-same Monkey reeled through the Universe as if blinded, hobbled and drunken and, by God, if Monkey's name was not my own and the clutter around Us not our Life - Perfection, Chaos and All.

Our Cage. Just enough room for Monkey and me.

A Cage so perfect it could only have been made by someone with inside knowledge of the Creatures it held. The Ultimate Cheat whereby in the act of Cheating the Cheater is the one most Cheated. Monkey was the acknowledged and unchallenged Master of Cheaters. An Honor so dubious that it was coveted by Millions. An Irony so pointless that it screamed with the voice of crumbling chalk skipping across a chalkboard. Monkey wanted that scream to cling to Him like a shroud, precede Him like a stink and trail Him like a slime.

"Oh for a mighty Scream," Monkey muttered. I heard Him and, by God, if it wasn't my lips He moved.

By now, Monkey's Madness was a dread certainty. I had held my breath as it approached Us and exhaled only after it was too late to run. Monkey embraced it like a Lover. I tried, in vain, to shrink beyond It's clutches but to no avail.

"Our Madness," Monkey muttered and, by God, if it wasn't my mouth that curled around the words.

Monkey spooked at Shadows now and then - Spirits maybe - speaking softly or screaming Nothing? Hard to tell. They spooked Him nonetheless.

"Speak, oh Spirit, so's I can hear or shh! if it's Nothing you're shrieking," Monkey muttered and, by God, if it wasn't my tongue that danced behind His teeth.

My name, my mouth, my lips, my tongue and yet Our life - Monkey in third person - imperfected. Mine not me, the Song begins... I'd sing it but only Monkey knows the Words.

The Best Eurythmic's Song


Love is a stranger
In an open car
To tempt you in
And drive you far away

And I want you
And I want you
And I want you so
Its an obsession

Love is a danger
Of a different kind
To take you away
And leave you far behind
And love love love
Is a dangerous drug
You have to receive it
And you still cant
Get enough of the stuff

Its savage and its cruel
And it shines like destruction
Comes in like the flood
And it seems like religion
Its noble and its brutal
It distorts and deranges
And it wrenches you up
And youre left like a zombie

And I want you
And I want you
And I want you so
Its an obsession

Its guilt edged
Glamorous and sleek by design
You know its jealous by nature
False and unkind
Its hard and restrained
And its totally cool
It touches and it teases
As you stumble in the debris

And I want you
And I want you
And I want you so
Its an obsession

Friday, February 15, 2008


WHAT IS LOVE? - Howard Jones

SONNET 147 - William Shakespeare

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

Monday, February 11, 2008



So I'm on the phone with my Dad and in the background I hear the panel of pundits on CNN discussing whether the confessions we gained through TORTURE (water-boarding) will be admissible in the SECRET TRIALS we conduct for the six terrorist detainees the Government chose to charge today. And whether the CLASSIFIED EVIDENCE we use to convict them will be provided to their defense teams.


Can we really win if this is what we've become? I wish I knew.

God, Please Bless Us All.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

On Dying In My Sleep Part 2

k.d. lang - HALLELUJAH

After the two weeks I spent in the hospital with my rebuilt heart, I took a taxi home. The cab driver was curious about why I had been in the Cardiac Ward.

I told him the story from waking up in the dark with my hands and feet tied to a bed and my Mother standing beside me (the confusing part was why my Mother was there - badoom ching!) all the way through finding out about the quadruple bypass and valve replacement. I was just getting to my retrograde amnesia about the heart attack itself when the cabby turned, pointed at me and said,

"Man, you're a miracle! With all that happened to you - you are a Miracle Man! You really got a gift of life again."

Even though I hate being interrupted mid-story, I realized he was right. The skill of the doctors, my family's love and the grace of God had combined to save my life as I slept.

Hallelujah, y'all.

HALLELUJAH Painting by Harry Teague

Monday, February 04, 2008



First, came SPY-GATE - but the Senate Judiciary Committee is investigating that (I'm SO relieved.)

Then, there was Romo-Gate... or was it Jessica-Gate?

This is just a gratuitous picture of Gisele Bundchen (that's German for "piece of tail.")

Then, a photo of Jessica Simpson cursing the Cowboys with her Glamour-VooDoo! (I'll do anything to boost readership.)

And NOW? Gisele-Gate! (Just who choked on who? or whom?)

Moral: Don't date Celebrity Super-Model Pop-Star Actress Babes in the Post-Season!

Luckily, the NFL has found sisters for Tom and Tony to date next season. It's never about the Ladies in pro-sports. It's about the Benjamins.