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2022 0310 what thee hell
Here is an image on a 3×5 card that sat on the table for weeks, faces vaguely sketched, no words. It was either throw it away or finish it. It is almost always better to finish it, and I did finish it, or at least bring it to a stage of completion, but  it may still be better off shredded or otherwise destroyed.

This one’s uniqueness of composition and the aptness of the drawing to the acrostic poem gets it  indefinite stay of execution. When I review my 2022 output in 2023, I’ll have fresher eyes and judgment. Meanwhile, it seems to be something done by the lovechild of Franz Kafka and Sally Bowles.

What [?] Thee [!] Hell [!!]

Whip’n out the sour mash
Hoist it high for dear Estelle
A
ye a serpent of the lash’ll
Take grotesqueries unwell

image

While not yet afflicted with dementia

I do have my episodes

I have left home for work with mismatched shoes

One black semigloss anti slip work shoe

The other New Balance white pseudo leather trainers

And today I’ve left for work beltless for the 2nd day in a row

That’s Out of Uniform for a restaurant host and could get me written up

Though yesterday the manager regarded it as no big deal

 

At my work as a host at an airport restaurant I sometimes

(As when wiping down a table and knocking down a salt shaker with a BONK!)

Get embarrassed

And that may trigger full-body Tourette’s syndrome

And that, my friends, ain’t pretty

I may say “Thank you, sir” to a departing guest in the same manner Kevin Bacon said “Thank you, sir, may I have another?” in the classic college comedy ANIMAL HOUSE

And then I may mutter “Makin’ Bacon” under my breath

And realizing I’m muttering out loud I may get more embarrassed

And may inexplicably clap my hands to the sides of my buttocks

While my head jerks around like a velociraptor’s

Throw in a little eye-twitch and you’ve got Son of Quasimodo manning the restaurant podium at America’s Friendliest Airport

 

My niece Lisa, learning I’d become a restaurant host, and knowing I am an introvert, said, “Wow, I’ll bet that takes you out of your comfort zone . . .”

 

Indeed it does

I go out of my comfort zone and into a psychodrama

Title: “The Noodle”

Written by Franz Kafka

Directed by Mel Brooks