PARDON ME, MADAM AND/OR SIR . . . BUT, I HAVE A QUESTION!

Bull dog resized - two

I’m curious — how many of you, Dear Readers, pay attention to the political news of the day?

Are you too busy with your day-to-day life maintenance activities to care what is going on in the rest of the world?

Do you think politicians are all crooked, so what’s the point?

Do you think you can’t do anything that would make a difference?

 

Well! Have I got news for you! It’s my handy-dandy guide to changing your world — and it’s free! That’s right! No need to spend your hard-earned cash! No shipping and handling fees! Nothing! Nada! Zip! Zero!

 

It’s right here in beautiful technicolor, for anyone to enjoy!

 

Handy-Dandy Guide to Changing the World:

V-O-T-E!

That’s right, folks . . . Vote . . . each and every time you get the chance!

Cast your ballot right in your own neighborhood – 

And it’s FREE!♥

Who’s in charge now, folks?

YOU, that’s who! Feel the power!

 

This has been an unpaid Public Service Announcement, sponsored by the writer of this post.

Advertisements

MEET THE BUTCHER

Stern Words

Excerpt from my book, Bosses and Blackjacks: A Tale of the “Bloody Fifth” in Philadelphia:

It only took Dave five minutes to walk from the station house at Third and Delancey,  but the August heat took its toll. His collar and hatband were soaked through with sweat when he arrived at Deutsch’s shop.

“Mayor Smith told me to come and talk to you about how I can help with the election,” Dave said. He looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody saw him go in.

“Yes. Yes. Good. Come in, Lieutenant,” Ike Deutsch replied. The butcher wiped his palms and the backs of his hands on his blood-splattered apron, and they shook hands. He locked the door to the shop and flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed” after Dave entered. “Let’s go to the back where we can talk in private.” As he pulled his apron off over his…

View original post 264 more words

PIE IN THE SKY

Have you ever felt like too many people have their fingers in your pie?

All licking your vitality off their palms as it runs down to their wrists.  They don’t stop to ask permission. They just dip into your allotted 24 hours and sop a bit up for themselves.

Of course, they don’t realize the damage they’re doing. It’s certainly not a group effort.

They are each snatching a crumb of your time without thinking very much about the cumulative affect upon you.

 

The question is this: Where do you draw the line?

 

Before the last slice?

The last bit of fruit?

The last crumb?

THE QUEEN AND I HAVE A YULETIDE MESSAGE FOR YOU!

STAY CALM, and:

Finish shopping for your family, and 75 of your closest friends and colleagues, making sure you stay under that $200 limit you set for yourself this year;

Bake 500 dozen cookies that are so special no one has ever eaten them before;

Decorate at least three trees of varying size for inside your house with different themes, one of which must be woodland creatures;

Check batteries on all those “safe” candles you now own, so the cats and dogs, and babies don’t set themselves on fire;

Add one more string of lights outside, so TV station satellites can pick out the glow of your home from space;

Cook every kind of meat that exists so everyone (including that Uncle we all have) enjoys Christmas dinner;

Cook every vegan dish you can think of so the two people you know who are vegan don’t starve;

Watch all twenty gazillion Christmas movies in one weekend while you . . .sing along to every Carol that was ever written;

Send out at least two thousand Christmas/holiday cards to remind everyone you’ve ever met in your life that you are still alive;

And, most importantly — make sure the liquor cabinet is well-stocked, so you can accomplish all of the above!

Enjoy the holidays . . . and try not to hurt anyone.

From our castle to yours … MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

OKAY…OKAY…I’M UP, FOR GOD’S SAKE!

The rumbling and swooshing and screeching woke me long before the alarm clock sounded.

 

Did a freight train jump the tracks? Was there a terrorist attack? A horrible traffic accident?

 

In a stumbling, drunken-like stupor, I made my way to the open bedroom window to discover the source of the fearsome cacophony . . . It sounded like a thousand needles prickling the predawn sky.

Standing there in the cool darkness, I realized, as the latest gush surrounded me and pushed past — The last of the brown, crumbling, dead leaves were being hurled and smashed to smithereens against any barrier standing in their way by . . . 

 

Mother Nature, blowing Autumn off and making way for the entrance of Winter!

 

(I understand she has an important job to do . . . but, couldn’t the bitch have waited until after the alarm went off? Geez.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

♫ MISTY WATER-COLORED MEMORIES . . . OF THE WAY WE WERE ♫

He wanted to be scary…she wanted to be pretty.

She was six…he was five.

This was one of those Halloweens that seared itself into the recesses of my mind, just waiting to bring a smile upon request by my consciousness.

I make that request every year at this time.

Wasn’t it yesterday that I said, “to hell with it!” and cut a good white sheet to drape over my little boy’s frail frame? And wasn’t it that same yesterday when I taught my little girl the Roaring Twenties song, “Anything Goes?”

I can still hear him roar as he raised his stretched arms, because, to him, that would be much more frightening than simply shouting “boo!”

Placing the dark brown wig over her bright red tresses to hide her identity from her classmates was the only demand my little flapper made.

To ensure the whole Halloween experience would be absorbed into their own memory-banks — I reminded him to roar at each door . . . and her little girl voice belted out: “In olden days a bit of stocking was looked on as something shocking…now, heaven knows —anything goes!”

This Halloween season, I hope you share your own recollections with friends and family, and keep building on those “Misty, water-colored memories.”

I’d also love to read them in the comments section of this post, if you’re so inclined, Dear Readers!