Thursday, October 31, 2013

CAR 54

Monday, October 28, 2013

Lil' Bit

Anyone who has been around Groh St. awhile knows of my cat, Lil' Bit, I never thought I could get so attached to a cat; I witnessed her birthing at Uncle Tommy's Cat Ranch high above overlooking the Square, so aptly named. Lil' Bit sprang from a long line of prize alley cat, of a feral bloodline going back to unsupervised breeding amidst the overgrowth of the banks of Shoal Creek, invisible to so-called cat fanciers, alas so for no documents meant no cat show; I wish now I had forged some, from being and remaining tiny came her name. She was special.
I not only tamed her with much work and patient, even long suffering diligence ....I but she could carry a conversation, I had aspirations of putting her on the stage, maybe Vegas where them sissies had wild success with a cat act, but would either one of those white Tigers interact verbally with the audience, Roy or that other 'nancy boy'?
I might have had a crowd favorite, even if she could only speak Meow; at the end of the act, I planned to roll my HP printer out on stage, under a baby spot, run off a few documents so when it started clicking, whirring into action, the appearance of Hammerhill paper stock from within its bowels, sheet by sheet accompanied by otherworldly mechanical ratcheting of the spool expelling paper droning, to Lil' Bit's eye and her cat brain onlookers could witness her metamorphosis, for the juices that flowed through the veins of her ferocious jungle ancestors into attack it ; what a finale! Those show-biz dreams die hard. Maybe this Feist will ease the bitterness, the Mennonite, Amish gentleman I'm buying her from claimed the Mama dog killed a polecat unaided, she and her pups reside in a barn with plenty of hay—I feel confident she will be well taken care of and not suffer the stress and anxiety of growing up in one of those noisy crowded pet shops, in a cage, among an uncaring public eyeballing her, a melange' of strange faces and voices; whose outlook has nothing to do with her welfare and future happiness. Their only goal is to kill an afternoon shopping; to cheap to go to a real zoo. Daniel projects she'll be weened about Thanksgiving. So I need to come up with a cool name for her, save my newspapers and stock up on Puppy food and cottage cheese, what Aunt Faye fed her puppies for a time to ease them in Mama dog's absence, and it's really good for them—cow's milk has them illing...Any suggestions in a really kick ass name, befitting such a lucky dog, that may possess star qualities too, you never can tell; I mean look at Lassie, perhaps she will provide me access to the big time, after all who needs it or deserves it more than I do? Hold a good thought and keep to cards and letters coming with name ideas. Anyone who has been around Groh St. awhile knows of my cat, Lil' Bit, I never thought I could get so attached to a cat; I witnessed her birthing at Uncle Tommy's Cat Ranch high above and overlooking the Square, so aptly named. Lil' Bit sprang from a long line of prize alley cat, of a feral bloodline going back to unsupervised breeding amidst the overgrowth of the banks of Shoal Creek, invisible to so-called cat fanciers, alas so for no documents meant no cat show; I wish now I had forged some, from being and remaining tiny came her name. She was special.
I not only tamed her with much work and patient, even long suffering diligence ....I but I learned she could carry on a conversation, I had aspirations of putting her on the stage as my straight man, so to speak. Las Vegas, Nevada, That's where them sissy boys had wild success with a cat act, but would either one of those white Tigers interact verbally with Roy or what's his name? Tte other 'nancy boy'? Much less the paying audience.
I might have had a crowd favorite, even if she could only speak Meow; at the end of the act, I planned to roll my HP printer out on stage, under a baby spot, run off a few documents so when it started clicking, whirring into action, the appearance of Hammerhill paper stock from within its bowels, sheet by sheet accompanied by otherworldly mechanical ratcheting of the spool expelling paper droning, to Lil' Bit's eye and her cat brain onlookers could witness her metamorphosis, for the juices that flowed through the veins of her ferocious jungle ancestors into attack it ; what a finale! Those show-biz dreams die hard. Maybe this Feist will ease the bitterness, the Mennonite, Amish gentleman I'm buying her from claimed the Mama dog killed a polecat unaided, she and her pups reside in a barn with plenty of hay—I feel confident she will be well taken care of and not suffer the stress and anxiety of growing up in one of those noisy crowded pet shops, in a cage, among an uncaring public eyeballing her, a melange' of strange faces and voices; whose outlook has nothing to do with her welfare and future happiness. Their only goal is to kill an afternoon shopping; to cheap to go to a real zoo. Daniel projects she'll be weened about Thanksgiving. So I need to come up with a cool name for her, save my newspapers and stock up on Puppy food and cottage cheese, what Aunt Faye fed her puppies for a time to ease them in Mama dog's absence, and it's really good for them—cow's milk has them illing...Any suggestions in a really kick ass name, befitting such a lucky dog, that may possess star qualities too, you never can tell; I mean look at Lassie, perhaps she will provide me access to the big time, after all who needs it or deserves it more than I do? Hold a good thought and keep to cards and letters coming with name ideas.

Saturday, October 26, 2013

BLOGSPOT IS HOME TO SOME SMART PEOPLE

GOOGLE IS TOO BIG FOR MY DRUTHERS


Atlantic Magazine is a rare component of my mental ingestion, it is an old established, and highly regarded media source, erudite is one adjective, in mv present milieu, circumstances are unfavorable to join the salon set of Lawrenceburg, where issues of substantial weight occupy the thought life and discourse.


Thursday, October 24, 2013

Sloozie get real

Tamara was cleaning the house while Sloozy slept. Tamara sat to drink her 7th cup of coffee—Seattle's Best, made in a french press with real half&half and Domino's pure CANE sugar—not beet sugar (the Castro grudge). As much as Tammy (what Joebear called her) was not a commie, she loved to tell tidbits she knew from the campus days when Marxism was serious business—in classrooms and family altercations. She could depend on joebear to keep his mouth shut until anyone asked his opinion,,,then he would not protect her dialectic, but remind the group Stalin assassinated Troysky in Mexico on his orders; Trotsky, the last true revolutionary thinked; Then Joe would remind us that revolution is about taking shit away from people, and none of us had the balls.