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Monthly Archives: December 2025

White House for sale or shill

Doom to let, 50 bil

Kiss ass, kowtow, and chill

All aboard, Big Beautiful Thrill! We got

Goon squads and thugs on ICE

Boat explosions adding spice. It’s not

Hard to see this man be

King of the Rude!

Pardons, one million bucks

(All that restitution sucks.)

Crypto to pay for play,

Green cards on steroids! Hey, it’s just

Business as usual for a

Springtime-fresh douche, you all

Clearly can see the man must be

King of the Rude!

He knows every grift and hoax, every scam

All of the angles to get out of a jam

And every pocket that wants to be lined

To line up corruption one crook at a time! And it’s

East Wing and wrecking ball

Shades of ol’ Tammany Hall.

No soul, no ethics, bet

Vlad-Daddy’s got his pet, but just

Two hours of throwing peeps

Under that bus for keeps. We must

All admit, he’s, no shit,

King of the Rude!!

Background: “Nana Bird,” clay, 9″x6″x5″, 30 Dec 2025. Foreground: “Grandpa Bird,” clay, 12″x7″x6″, 30 Dec 2025.

for the birds

nana rests on the rest of the block of clay she rode in on.

grandpa is on the potter’s wheel, giving me the stink-eye.

the two of them took about an hour and a half to make.

“i didn’t ask to be hatched,” grandpa seems to be saying, but his daughter is less harsh

and pleads with me wordlessly to give her at least nine eggs to nurture.

they are unfinished, and i will spend more time than i usually do to spruce them up.

i suspect grandpa wants to be admired.

his daughter wants chicks.

i will see what i can do.

I like Cate Blanchett and Ben Stiller and Mandy Patinkin and his loving wife and Gabby Giffords and her loving husband

So when they ask me to stop scrolling and pay attention and cough up I feel so bad when I only do two out of three

Having exceeded my 2025 charitable contributions budget by a factor of 2.5 or so

But I wish them well

And I’ll catch them in 2026 after I complete my expensive uprooting and transplanting

If conditions still obtain

If the world remains unexploded

If I and my loving Sweetheart are still here and together

..

Meanwhile the only thing I ask of you and the rest of my friends

Is ask yourself:

“Have I done as much giving as taking?”

It is the one thing that will rightly inform your actions regarding charitable contributions

And it’s healthy

To pay attention

To yourself.

phoenix ay zee

has been home to me

but my sweetheart resides in toledo

so in june i will launch like a jazzed-up torpedo

and suitcase my clothing as best suits a suitor

and bring my ceramics and laptop computer

and love in my heart for this intricate soul

and we’ll have adventures tween north and south pole

and make the ride last for as long as we can

a golden-years couple both woman and man

a dude and a kitten

both lusty both smitten

with both meters running

it’s loving and funning

that counts!

in new york in 2018 a black-capped chickadee

was audially captured for four minutes

and fifty-seven seconds

sounding  nothing if not tired and bored

“here i/am now/[pause]/here i/am now/[pause]/

here i/am now/[pause]/here i/am now/[pause]/”

little johnnie four-note

with almost nothing to say

..

but isn’t it a miracle:

you can think of a bird, any bird

and do a search for “[bird] birdsong”

and in less than a minute

that bird will sing

only for you

He had to be a Big Shot,

Spouting What a Fool Believes;

And now he has a cabi-knot

Of Crypties, Tramps and Thieves.

But his misdeeds spark up a mind

And LO, how does that brain glow,

That balladeer of White House crime,

The stellar Randy Rainbow.

..

Applause for the lunatic, lyrical genius known as Randy Rainbow, whose song parodies eviscerating “Donald Jessica Trump” give me hope that there is still intelligent life in our beleaguered nation.

Yes.
No.

the late chris farley spoke into a fan:

“l-u-k-e. i-i-i a-a-m y-o-o-u-u-r f-a-a-t-h-h-e-r.”

the fan blades feather-chopped the sound

and made him sound otherworldly.

he was acting like a kid. he was Tommy Boy.

and when we were kids, Boys and Girls,

we clothes-pinned playing cards to our bikes

such that they strummed the wheel spokes

whole the wheels turned

just as a guitar pick strums strings–

or is it that the spokes strum the cards?

we also filled paper bags with exhaled air,

held tightly closed the bag end, and punched

the bag just right, for a loud and satisfying

popping sound.

cellophane and raisin boxes can be made to make

a piercing soprano whistling noise.

the finger-pulled-sideways-through-the-mouth

is still fun. squeezing air between armpit and hand

is juvenile, but so what?

special bags of dried corn and grease make a sound

in the microwave a bit like fireworks, but please,

On Your Life and for the Love of God, do not

use a Microwave

to pop a Weasel.

i wear the raggy ones and all

now look at me askance

i get the side-eye too a paul

ling cannot even glance

it’s only clothing but such loathing

low thing makes me dance

and what the hey it’s just a day

a boil we need not lance.