Graphing A Photon Or Grabbing A Dog

 

               I heard a tapping on my window.  I looked outside and saw some, furry little thing scampering across the sidewalk and barking at me.  Here’s what came out of his mouth “Hey Mr. Mingles Man.  Manhandle my vacuum energy.  That comet comes and I don’t want to be alone.  Or is that on loan?”  Or, at least that’s what I heard coming out from his mouth.

               So, I went to the doorway.  I opened it and looked out.  With a head of a Moriarty.  And an anvil Ally to the pull of the tooth.  I smiled and said, “Fangs to you.”

               He ran around.  Bit at his tail, and replied, “Sir!   Sir!  I am not forgotten!  I want to tell you that I am for the gloss softened.  See, my bones sure ain’t rotten.  And my gravity is at my bottom.”

               I replied, “I’m not Stu you little Pid.  I can easely see that you are ‘A tail pulled by those idiots’ or was that ‘lily lads.’”

               He then growled, “At least I’m a wizard with jaws.”

               To which I said, “You sure are that Wizard who annoys.”

               He looked at me, pointed his snout, lifted his leg, and then said, “I want to point out to you that me and my friend here.  We are The Photon and The Dog.”

               And I just answered, or was that ants whirled, “Well, I can see you as The Wizard of Paws.”

               Then he replied, “Come On!  I’m not the Wizard Possessed.  Repossessed.  Retrograded.”

               I then just laughed and told him, “Yes.  Yes!  Yes, you are!  You are such a:

Pro Non,

That Makes You An Anti-Nuken

We wilt now call you our Auntie Nun.”

                Two Witch caused them to state:

 

“Eee! Nun.  See a Tun!

See that two nun!

Sea a Tuna!

And just pay me a Fee! Man!

As your g Sprees Your Nun around!”

 

               That was when I acknowledged that there were two of them, “Okay!  Okay!  I’ve head enough of this!  Or is that I’ve heard enough of that!  Well, it really is I herd enough of this herd of you two.  So, I now pronoun yous in the shape of the universe!”

               The next thing I did was step out my door.  I locked it to make my home safe.  I’m always a safe cracker when I want to go back inside.  I just do that when I’m sick of all these crackers around me.  They sure are cracked up.  Anyway, I looked up in that stye.  That’s when, in my eye I got dropped by a bird.  As usual, I complained,  “Are you Super Man Immature?”

               To which the furry one barked, “You should no that If I were a Supper Hero.  And I’m not talking about the Sand Witch.  You’re the one that I canned take a stand width.   I am Bat Man.  And you would be Foe Ward.  Or is that Four Weird.  Whatever, all we know is that, Ed Warts.  Or at least you Eats Warts.”

               I ants weird, “I know. I know now.  It’s that meteor that did it.  Boy life sure became meatier.  There it was.  It Mash Potatoed some Matter with you.  That’s Watsa Matta Wid You!  And so, now, you are just Corporal Klinger.  And look around you. All those Klingons!  This makes me feel like I am  on the banks of an Alien Stream.  I see you now.  You are one of the Jelly Fish of Jupiter.”

               After that I was tapped on my shoulder.  There was my neighbor standing in back of me.  He said, “ All this time I’ve been hearing you.  You Snapping, Napping Crew.  I see those guys!  They are the Physiolostones. Yes, it is the Photon and the Dog Time.  Because with them Time Travels Backward.  TTB!  Anytime we can see you, you guys are Back Wards.  And this proves that you, my neighbor, are a Back Wart.  Now you should listen to just what my back warns!”

               Then, before he started, I argued, or is that agreed, or I noticed some more greed, my a popsicle creed, “Yeah, sure, and that Dark Energy, the Dark Matter, those Five Point Nine Protons per cubic meter-doo!”

Pulsars met some Space Stones

In a meteoric celestial body

From the messed up helium vacuum

They're a ray right out of radiation

 

Let them  fly with the temperature of heat

Through that plasma of Kelvin's two point seven C.

 

Seven C

Seven Seas

Heaven Sees

 

Then that Atom hit a Space Dog

He sure did have a Yuri Gagarin cost flight

A Soviet  mesospheric blight

It'll find the Earth Or Bite

 

An Orbit Obit

 

Baryonic, meet the Numeric Densities

They're the neutrino stars and galaxies

From the electromagnetic dust

They're a field right out of kinetic

 

Someday, maybe mass energy will dark

And then that matter will stray out to the park

 

So when you're with the Anastrophe

You’ll have that microwave spatial probe

A vacuum background parallel rove

Five orders of magnitude prone

 

We all must learn that Hist Ionic was written up as a personality disorder.  It is  a mental condition.  One in which people are said to act in a very emute teal and dramatic way.  Anyway, that draws attention to themselves.  Magnetism is as magnetism does, but the Butt Put that reality is, is that a Canis Ionic fur tail dog bottomry has distorted some sputnickal probe.  And the seismologically connected fibers spacially sparked into fidos.  One specific Ion was positively charged, in order to get attracted to a specific negative electrode.  That Grain behind this ausweis was expediated to form a cathode.  What the waves in this form did not co-pre-med or comprehend, or corpses amend, was that that was what was framed.  And maybe farmed.  It was not a cathode but it was what the Cat Owed.  And what that Cat Owed was a Dog.

So, beware of the Photons.  They are the snarl tickles. This is the one that trickled so much that the other otter that  travelled through some wide spaces with the Atom Bombs  just bombing away.  And when that certain Photon got too much booze,  it interfered with the election of the King of the Earth!   The photon and his fiend friend fright were then ether subtracted into a particle queuer atom or (or ore)  that tomb then became a Rebel to the caustics.

                                          I hope you liked reading this                                                                                                                          There are other things you can read TOO

I'm Wrong

 

               I have a relative who grew up loving communism.  He hated American Citizens.  He was born an American.  He lived in America.  When he was nine years old he got a short wave radio.  That is when he learned to love communism.  His hatred of America began earlier than that. 

               He thought he was the best.  He always thought everyone else was the worst.  He’d play baseball.  He was good at it.  He was not great at it.  No one is great at anything in the beginning.  But that effected and affected him emotionally.  Who is great, even after years of playing it? Anything?  If you’re better than some you are probably worse than others.  He’d play hockey.  He was good at it.  He was not great at it.  He’d play football.  He was good at that too.  He was not great at that too.

               He got mad when other people were better at these things than he was.  He especially got mad at kids that were older than he was.  He would stand in line at school.  Everyone stood in lines at school at that time.  Some kids in back of him would taunt him for missing a pass or for getting struck out.  Who did not get taunted in grade school?  He’d get mad, and he’d hold his sharpened pencil in his right hand, and stab down and backward at the kid who was taunting him in back of him, whether that kid was still there or not.

               There was a song on the radio when we were growing up.  It was called “Running Bear.”  It told about Running Bear and Little White Dove.  When this neighbor got mad at school he would start pacing.  He eventually would start hopping as he was pacing.  When he was nine or ten and some teenager was laughing at him (teenagers laughed at younger kids because they can), he started getting mad and paced and hopped even more.  One time, when somewhere a radio was playing,  “On the banks of the river stood running bear.”  That was when the teenagers started calling him Running Bear.  The teenagers noticed that he was pacing and hopping.  Teenagers notice things like that.  And it stuck with him when they said, “Hey.  He is not Running Bear.  He is Dancing Bear.”

               Dancing Bear.  That name remained with him through the rest of grade school.  It was with him all through High School.  It followed him to college.  He was anointed with another name in grade school.  A popular candy that you could get at the Dime Store was Orange Nip.  On the candy’s box was a stick figure drawing.  This character just had stick arms and legs and body but it had a huge fruit colored Orange head with eyes and a line mouth.  His head got colored orange too.  When Dancing Bear got mad, the blood vessels in his head would pump and pound.  Dancing Bear had a rather large head to begin with.  When he got mad that big head would turn red and orange with his high blood pressure.  Many teenagers then began calling him Orange Nip.  That name, Orange Nip, also followed him through grade school, high school, and college. 

               I was raised a Catholic.  He was raised a Catholic.  Since he was better at sports than anyone, he was also better at being a Catholic than anyone.  When I would visit him he would play at being a priest.  He would get a small table in his bedroom.  He had covered that table with a towel.  He kept a glass on the center of that table.  Since I was there, I was supposed to be a worshiper.  It was my job to kneel in back of him, fold my hands, and stay quiet.  It was his job to look over the room.  It was his job to speak Latin (he made up words).  It was his job to lift up the glass and look at it.  It was his job to turn around and face me and lift up the glass and look at it.  It was his job to turn around again and place the glass back down on the middle of the table.  This could go on for hours.  I would get bored.  I would try to say something and he would condemn me because I was evil.  I constantly left and he’d go on and on for hours lifting his glass, looking at it, speaking his made up words of God.

               When he was nine years old and got his shortwave radio he already disliked everybody.  He soon realized that he disliked America.  He listened to Radio East Berlin.  He listened to Radio Moscow.  He listened to Radio China.  They were moral people.  They presented good ways to live.  There were no teenagers there.  Their sports teams were the best.  He conceded, begrudgingly, that they might be not so good on foreign policy but they are the best at domestic policy. 

               He saved his money and bought books about these countries.  He bought pictures of the leaders of these countries.  He bought the flags of these countries.  He would also write to the radio stations that he listened to.  The radio stations wrote back to him.  He became more disconnected to the world at his doorstep and more in love with the world he heard, that world he read about.

               I am two years younger than he is.  Back when I was seven years old we, America, did not have diplomatic relations with The People’s Republic of China.  He wrote to China often.  Back when I was seven years old my family was interrogated by the FBI because of my friendship to him.  Me, a seven year old boy, was brought to a room, had a spotlight on my face, and was questioned about my activities.  I was questioned about who my friends were.  I was questioned about what I do when I think no one is watching me.  He was questioned too.  It appears that he wrote several times to The People’s Republic of China.  He declared that he did not.  The FBI agents showed him the letters that he sent.  Since we did not have diplomatic relations with The People’s Republic of China at that time those letters went to the US Embassy in Taiwan.  When the letters were held in front of his face, he admitted that he wrote them.  He said he was just inquiring about the weather there.  The FBI Agents asked him “If this correspondence is just about the weather why did you state, ‘All Hail Our Beloved Chairman Mao Tse-tung.’  He said that he was just being polite and that he wrote, ‘Your Beloved Chairman Mao Tse-tung.’  The FBI agents showed him several letters with ‘Our Beloved Chairman Mao Tse-tung.’

               It is bad enough that a nine year old had to go through interrogations like that.  I was seven years old.  At the end of the in person investigations he told the FBI Agents that he would happily work with them to help them keep an eye on what is happening in The People’s Republic of China.  He would talk to the agents on the phone periodically.  He still did not remove the Russian and Chinese flags from his room.  The good old Sickle and the Stars.  A couple years later he slipped up and told me that ‘I am working on the inside.’  I did not want to know so I asked no more.  He wouldn’t know the truth, or speak it if he did know the truth.

               Since he was so interested in his radio he learned foreign languages.  He started with German and then Russian and also Chinese.  Since he considered himself a Priest he took no interest in science.  In grade school, during seventh and eighth grade, the school had a Science Fair.  He built a volcano.  It was a coffee can covered with plaster and had baking soda and vinegar poured in so it would bubble up and spew over.  I had plants that I grew under ultra violet lights whose height measurements I took periodically.  Gee, which was more scientific?   Unfortunately I went to the same high school that he did.  It was great.  I am being sarcastic.  Everyone knew him and put him down.  As soon as I started high school, because I had been seen for years near him and not outwardly hating him, I had all the older students put me down too.  “Another Dancing Bear.”  “Another Orange Nip.” 

               But I did not react to that.  If someone would hit me I grabbed them and held them aloft.  If someone taunted me I acted like I did not hear them.  In school I got deeply into mathematical theorems and science.  The popular kids, the athletes and the student council people, the ones that hated him, they paid no attention to me.  They were not interested in math or science.  I remember a time when a kid, two years older than him, chased him down the block and started hitting him.  I intervened.  (Now since I was two years younger than the nut job that made me four years younger than the kid that was beating up the nut job.  I was smaller than both of them.)  I stopped Dan from beating up on him.  I was on someone’s front doorstep.  I was holding Dan above me, his shirt grasped in my fist.  Dan started yelling, “Come on.  Hit me.  Hit me!”  I just looked at him and said, “I don’t believe in violence,” and tossed him onto the ground.  He took off, he ran away, and laughed at me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              If you liked reading this                                                                                                                                 I would like you to read                                                                                                                                 Other things I WROTE

Doubts Count or Clouts Blout

               I’ve been out drinking with my buddies.  I had a Singapore Sling.  Or was it I Sing of Porcelain?   It feels like I had a Swing on a Porcupine.  I sure had too many porcinis.  There was mush in the room all around me.

               Frank told me, “Don’t try to make your dreams remain.  I make my dreams a reality.  That’s better than having my dreams my remains.”

               Then we heard the bartender, or was that the Fart Ender, “Away and away forward.”

Jim told me, “I smell the dirt and I walk away from that dirt.  I walk forward.  I see no light and just walk into it.”

Ed said, “I just get punched and fall.”

Tim went on, “Into that area the punch did not come from, I see schools.  Not Icy Cools. And I see ground, or was that the Esagrand?  It sure was Grand.  Whatever it was.  Or was it a wasp?”

I just replied, “And I sat on this see saw and just got pushed up to the sun.”

Frank talked, “That is the season this is.  It was the wind that blew that kite up higher.”

Jim answered, “Well, and I don’t mean deep water.  But, well, those magnets keep pushing me up.”

That caused me to say, “The sound was so plasmatically disgusting that all I could do was wave.”

To which Frank reacted, “It’s not easy being Lazy.  You’re Lazy because nobody can be that stupid.  Making the bed.  Cutting wood.  Trimming branches.  Asking what you said because I am too lazy to listen to you the first time and too lazy to read your mind.”

And I said, “It’s not easy being Stupid.  Don’t think about it, just do it.  I was told he could do it in one hour and he gave me one month to do it.  I finished it in 3 weeks.  His works 10% of the time.  Mine works 95% of the time.”

Tim then said, “I was interrupted by Endeavor Health.  They really should be named ‘End Never Death’.”

Ed asked, “Did you Mask Up or have you just gone to Mass Cup.”

Tim replied, “I think it was an Irish Wolfhound or maybe that Irish Wool  I Found.”

Frank said, “Well, I am a Week Early.”

And I said, “As usual, you are just a Wee Curly.”

Frank then asked, “Wichita, or Which I Thought, or are you the Witch I Taunt?”

To witch I asked, “Are you Iceland Dice or Dice Landic?”

Which caused Frank to go on, “Glacialotomy!”

And Jim asked, “Was that Glacier Anatomy or ‘Glaciers On Top Of Me’?”

Ed said, “I’d better watch out.  I don’t want to be Ate!  And I’m not denying all this Hate.”

Tim then disgusted, “Heaven snakes alive.”

Frank sighed, “Fort trees too.”

To which I asked, “But Who Won?  Can’t you Zee that Hero?”

Ed then told us, “You’ve got to make your every move count!   Or at least make every count move:

 

Count Dooku from Star Wars, or was that Start Warts.

Count Dracula from, of course, Dracula.

Count Duckula from Count Duckula.  Duck means hide your head.

Count Fenring from Dune.  We all know what you’re doing.

Count Athos, one of the Three Musketeers.  You are a bunch of musk eaters.

Count Baltar from Battlestar Galactica.  Impractica.

Count Bloodcount from Looney Tunes.  There’s no Loonier Than Us.

Count Bobby who was The Terror of The Wild West.  West Minister Abbey, baby.

Count Chocula from Monster Cereals.  We are the Surreals.

Count von Count from Sesame Street.  Their Street is our Retreat.

Edmond Dante, the Count of Monte Cristo.  Boil me in Cristo Oil.

Count Floyd from the Second City Television.  Don’t tell me your visions.

Count Fosco from The Woman In White.  Keep her out of my sight.

Count Fujiwara from The Handmaiden.  My Dune is what my Sand is Makin.

Count Nefaria from Marvel Comics  Following my Ergonomics.

Count Olaf from A Series of Unfortunate Events.  With Frank we need to keep the Vents.

Count Orlok from Nosferatu.  Speaking of Frank, our noses will rot too.

Count Paris from Romeo and Juliet.  In my life, I’ve roamed and I still owe so my Julie Left.

Count Andreas Petofi from Dark Shadows.  Do.  Dose.  Doze.

Nikolai Rostov from War and Peace.  I were in a lot of Pees.

Count Weirdly from Slylock Fox.  And I’m stuck in a box.

Count Rupert of Mountjoy from The Mouse That Roared.  We’re all on board.”

 

               Frank asked, “Why do we have to Count his Joy?”

               And I asked Frank, “Were you Down for that Count?”

Frank then asked, “Which Count?”

That caused me to ask, “Did you say ‘Witch Count’?”

To which Tim asked, “Or was that the Wichita Count?”

Ed replied, Anyway, that was my Count Down.”

I then asked, “Did you say that you just gave us your Count Clown?”         

Tim just asked, “Which Count was that?”

Ed said, “Tim, you must have been Down for the Count!”

Tim pushed in, “Which Count?”

Ed asked, “Did you ask me to be a, ‘Witch Count’?”

Frank added in, “Maybe he asked ‘Wichita Count’.”

Ed finished, “I don’t care!  That was my Count Down!”

Tim then said, “I guess I now have to give you my Count Down!”

Frank then was frank, “You are always our Count Clown.”

 

Tim then chorused loudly:

 

               “One Two Three

                 Eins Zwei Drie

                 Un Deux Trois

                 Ah-DEEN dvah tree”

 

I tried to shut his mouth was by saying, “To me, that was Unary, Binary, and very, very Intrusive Very!”

Butt then Tim asked, “Did you say that, to you, this was all Urinary?”

Which caused me to change my accent and finish us all with, “Me, I’m Swine Dry.  I’ve Fluffy Sox.  I Act Not Sane.  Did you hear this from a ditch?  Was it a herd of ducks?  We sure are sick.  All around there are Germs Many.”

                                                 If you enjoy reading my blog                                                                                                                          You might like reading my BOOKS 

Octet Do Minor Goose Step

 

               I’m a brick.  No, I’m a fish.  I see.  I am scaled.  I’m steady there watching, observing.  You think I sink just because my movements are different from yours.  You also think I stink.  You have your atmosphere.  I have mine.

               I see front and back.  You have no care about your actions and the mess you leave behind.  My atmosphere has weight for me.  My atmosphere buoys me up.  Mine provides me support.  You do not care about your atmosphere.  You will not, you refuse to admit to the support it gives you.

               I work with my atmosphere.  I work with it to allow me to breathe.  You work against your atmosphere when you do what you do, all the things you do, you cannot breathe your atmosphere.  You ruin mine too.

               I should take some pride from that claim you made of me.  You called me a brick.

               A brick gives structure.  A brick builds safety.  A brick, many bricks together, planned, thought out, and in cooperation exists to provide security.

               I am wet.  I stare.  I dive and float.  I have the hard ground underneath.  I traverse the plants.  I scoop through nothing but flow, nothing but still, nothing but waves.  And I pop.  I shoot.  I arc through your emptiness, sitting in your sun, evaporating into your breeze.  That you take no notice of.

               I notice around me.  I see the fish shaped like me but different.  I see the fish not like the fish.  I see that mammal.  Did you know that you are a mammal?  I see the mammals that look like me.  The whale.  The many kinds of whale.  The porpoises , the dolphins.  They are many and they are different ant they are alive.

               You do not notice the birds and squirrels and raccoons, let alone your human neighbor.  If that neighbor isn’t you, you couldn’t care less.         

               To me, if it is alive, it needs care.  And if it is not alive.  If it is a rock or a breath of hydrogen or a calcite crystal all the way down to lowly soil.  It still needs care.

               When I see the trees along the stream path during the winter.  No leaves.  No vines.  No reaching through of plants.  I can see the tree and not the leaves it is presenting.  Every half of a foot to three feet there is another tree trunk.  Another twin of limbs.  Another strew to the sky.  And I see the bark.  All whites and reds and dull greens with dull yellows.  And they are an army of one.  Inch by three and one quarter inches.  Climbing high there are scales, isosceles triangles, vees, point down openings.  Upward en masse.

               And there are waves, sprayed dunes paralleling those waves going from sun to root in harmony.  There are pots and chains and smooth and vanishing flakes.  Trees can live together.  What about people?  English.  Irish.  Slovenian.  How about Blacks, Ethiopians, Kenyans, Zulus?  How many endangered Chinese, Indonesians, Japanese?  They all fight.  But those trees there don’t.

               Those barks, a symphony of bips and howls.  No wonder they grow and we don’t.

               How different would our civilization be?  We would actually take a step towards being sentient.  Even without any immigration the physical makeup of the cities of the United States will not gain sentience.  Whites will start treating other races as equals, not greaters or lesser.  For Whites will not encourage one group to claim ownership of all others.

               I think about my past, but I do not know it.  To be truthful, I do not even think about it much, anymore.  I used to think about it to present myself and to know there is another person with a different past who I am presenting myself to.

               My past, I went to the zoo a lot when I was young.  Now, that I am old, I go to the zoo a lot again.  That zoo is part of my selected identification.

               I recently talked to a similarly aged, old, human being.  I mentioned the zoo, as part of my introduction.  He mentioned the zoo, as a conversation tool, specific to our arbitrary circumstance.

               I assumed that he lived locally, by the zoo, in the past.  I went off verbally under that erred assumption.  In his verbalized reaction, when I gave him the chance, or did I question his statement and request understanding?  He told me that he grew up in a different state.  His family visited this zoo, one or two times during his early childhood.  His family relocated to other states, one or two times as he was growing up.  During those listened periods, his family visited My Zoo a couple of times.   He also visited the zoos located in the areas that he currently lived.

               I assumed wrong, at first.  I stated details that he did not have memory access to.  I did not listen, however.  Instead, I only verbalized about what I had experienced and we made a communication connection.

               I stated one thing.  He stated something similar.  We were each able to alter our paralleled yet different lines of expressing memories.  And we ended up talking as individuals, different yet acknowledged people.

               Even though a tree is dying, it is not dead, get that through my mind.  I’m old.  I’m fat.  I have diabetes.  I am retired.  But I am not dead.  I still breathe some, I still well some, and I still think some.  I see my shadow on the path with the brown leaves and the dust fly by as I slowly wave and look at deer and twelve turtles and   summer being missed by, as this area awakens.  Awaken, I want to awaken and enjoy the warm sun on my ear or the back of my head and neck.  A breeze comes in that I inhale.

               I’ve seen thirteen turtles so far in this walk, and at least five deer.  I am more interested in the turtles so I am more persistent, but I have nothing against deer.  I like seeing them too.  Seeing life helps me realize that I have life.  But that selfishness is not the only reason I look for frogs and squirrels and snakes.  I enjoy them because they are there.  Twenty-six turtles and a bunch of fish. 

               Those dinosaurs have advanced more than man has.  They fly.  They live in water and on land.  Man kills himself.

               A race riot is where one plate of humanity scrapes past another.  Mountain building, such as the creation of the Himalayas, is where one race is over run, buried by another, such as white Europeans burying the original inhabitants of the Americas.  That is how the Rocky Mountains were formed.

               But those Rocky Mountains are in our past.  We’ve been eroded more than those Great Smokey Mountains.  Great?  Great is nothing.  It is all up in smoke.  And where white man is going now, our Great Technology is where this white plate runs across any other late, anything we think is different from us.  And we head into them, all of them, head on, and the best we can get is a Mariana Trench.  We are all out, under the seas, dead for eons.  And everyone is going under. 

               So, are you proud of your earth quake?  I am not proud that we’ve erupted.  This world has too many intrusions, igneous, basaltic, and others.  There, the deepest trench this world has seen, and you think you are looked up to for the assault of your basalt.  Only you can prevent herbivores. 

               Us continental shelf people claim that we were here first.  We don’t manage the sands.  We are the sands.  We don’t collapse those shells.  We are the shells of the past.  You will go to us.  You will go to shells.

               But there were continents before there were continental shelves.  And different continental shelves are made up from different rocks, from those different continents.  Before there were continents there were igneous intrusions.  There were the rocks that melted together to build those intrusions.  Basalt is at least as numerous as continental intrusions.  Us  Continentals claim that we are on top.  Maybe we are on top because we rest upon the more strengthen structures of all those basalts.  Maybe we are light weight in comparison to those what we like to call basalts.

               Contradiction Vs Contractor:

               I like to think that I assault basalt.  I like to chant “Igneous Uber Alles.”  I’m proud that I’m the one being intrusive.  Look at Devil’s Tower in Colorado.  They made a movie of me.  I don’t admit to it, but life originated in the oceans.  Life originated supported by those basalts.

               And before life, what was there?  There was no air.  There was no sea.  There were no continents.  There was no world.

               There were explosions and repulsions and radiations of those astral asymptotes.  Before the comet flung and the dying stars with widening worm holes, imploding black holes at the center of this nonexistent cosmetologically pulsars forcing to create the atom that burst into the red echoing of monopole material dimensional claims.

               A dead vibration off of an astral thread miasma-ing into that crashing of light which you call Old Sol.  That star whose arms and legs and cranial scabs escaped into meteoroids and mounds and gravitationally attracted speeds and spheres and renewing and cooling and escaping and intruding into our Mars and Mercuries and Saturns and Jupiters with base doubling above all.  Mightier than all rulers of all because we are and they don’t, or at least that is the thought we think.

               We will never rule them until we attack them.  Our foes, be you black or brown or ruling or down.  Why all this unclear stuff about foreign powers directing the United States Governments. When we should be more worried about American Voters directing these United States.

               He’s the Quo Pro Quid Kid.  The Boss of Quid Pro Quo. 

                                                             If you liked reading this                                                                                                                                 You might like reading                                                                                                                                    Some of THESE

Scold in Kindergarten or Scald for Life

 

Did you hear that noise?  Or are you just one of the annoyed?

That’s when I heard you say, “No.”  Or were you implying that I don’t know?  Anyway, it seems like that “P” is our start, or was that your fart?  And that “N” is our end, and again, did it come out from your end?  Whichever way, our Vladamir better be strong.  Or that guy who claims he is was and will be our President sure is wrong. 

Folks, while in the army you probably did tour.  Then the papers claimed he woke up with his Bone Spur.  Now, did the ones who were deployed get annoyed?  While we paid for his girl?   Just please note that those lies were written by President number 45.  Yes, people do “note” it.  And Criminals “not” it.  While Putin keeps on doing “Nyet” its. 

With spring coming, trimming my grass with low cuts is going to be much better than living in trees with some locusts.  As time keeps going on, I keep sleeping on my side.  And finally, my teacher told me, “You slept on mice hide.”  I listened to her for the first time and it caused me to yell, “Mice!  Hide!”  That’s when the kid in the desk next to me asked, “Do Mice Grow or do Mice Throw?”  I answered to the class by saying, “Just call maestro.” 

The teacher then said, “We can’t.  You’re not as fat as you used to be.”

To which I replied, “Well, if I’m not as fat, then I’m not as Tubby.”

And the guy sitting in back of me sputtered as he stumbled and spoke, “That guy who calls himself our president.  He keeps thinking we’re slow. He’s the one who cheats on his wife when he becomes a daddio.  Putin Bought Him. And Brought him to us, as in US.”

The class finally broke into chorus:

 

               “I hate that tRumpster

  Who put my life into the dumpster

  And I hate those tRumpters

  Who look up to the Ku Klux Klan”

              

               To which I chorused:

 

“And Lord hate those tRumpsters

 That rule us when he is so mad”

 

               Our teacher then banged her yardstick on the desk in front of us.  I told the kid next to me, “I wish she was smashing the ruler instead of that yardstick.”

               The teacher then went on,

 “Q Anon, that’s the power tRUMP’s now on.

   It is just a KKK from days gone by.

   And as our lives he’s crushin’

   We’re taken over by that Russian.

   That’s when tRUMP hits us in the face

   With his lies,

   And when you look at his allies,

   Ask, is that ‘All Lies?’”

 

Then I whispered to the kid next to me, “I’m now remembering the past.  Like back in 1999 to 2007.  That governor of Florida.  Let me tell you a story ‘bout a man named Jeb.  He was a corporate, or was that co-pirate, profiteer who barely ever used his head.  Remember one of the days when money was causing him to drool.  On TV he acted like a clown and joined the Republican Pool.

“Presidential debates, Primaries.

“Next thing you know, Jeb shows his mind is nowhere.  Even his mother said, ‘Jeb don't even think of going there.’  She said,  ‘The country hurts enough from both our own Georgies.’  Then she said, ‘This country wants you just like a dog wants a bunch of fleas.’”

That kid, Fred, told me to get up to the present, “Stupid Donald is an old dummy.  Scary, scary, King of the Kooks is he.  Rant stupid Donald.  Rant stupid Donald.  Dead our lives will be.”

Julie, sitting next to us, went on, “He started a lie.  Which started the whole world shooting.  If the police only seen, that that dope was DT.”

I joined her song, “Wishing me dead.  With the things that he said.”

Then the whole class joined in:

 

               “Oh Boy

  GW Bushy

  Oh Boy

  Trump is a tushy

  Oh Boy

  Bully Chris Christie

  Comedy Mitt Romney

  And

  Terrible Ted Kruse.”

 

               And I just exhaled, “Trumple, Trample, Trumple:  Oh, We say he’s like Reagan, Reagan, Reagan;  As we go flying directly into doom;  No Equal Pay;  No breathe today; So, we do a lot more hating; And it gets worse every day;  I’m so glad that I am old and selfish;  And my life ain’t so very far from gone.”

               But I am so stupid.  I need to be told by the Genius that he or she is a Genius.

               I guess I am lucky.  I’ve known several Geniuses.  (How lucky am I?)  You would think they’d get tired of telling everyone that they are Geniuses.

               I have an older brother.  He is a Genius.  When we were growing up, we had to help my uncle take care of his yard.  He had a huge garden that was bordered with grape vines.  Those grapes had not bloomed in years.

               My brother told my parents that there was nothing he could do more with that garden.  He said that he checked it out and asked around.  They told him to go play ball.  I read about how to prune grapes.  I pruned them.  I read about how to plant and water strawberries.  I got them to grow.  The grapes eventually bloomed, their vines got longer and thicker.  I worked all the time around his house. 

               I remember one time when my uncle came outside to give my brother a lemonade in the hot sun.  Then my uncle said to me, “See how smart your brother is?  He gets to play ball while you get to work in my yard.”  This came from the uncle who married a cripple who inherited money.  He later divorced her and married a store front gypsy who had more money. 

               My parents also looked up to my brother and my uncle.  My uncle bought a new Cadillac each year.  Each week my uncle would dress in shabby, thread worn clothes and walk into different supermarkets.    He would find the manager and excuse himself for the way he was dressed.  “I am an old man.  I am a war veteran.  Do you have any stale bread or rotten vegetables you are throwing out.  I need to feed myself and my family.”  The managers usually felt sorry for him.  He usually dined on steak and lobster tails.  If he ever just got bread or vegetables, and they usually were not stale, my uncle would throw them into the garbage bins behind the stores.

               My career was as a computer programmer.  Obie owned one of the places I worked for.  Obie and his wife kept telling me about what a genius Obie was.  He would visit clients’ sites.  He never brought electronic equipment with him.  He would never email, File Transfer Process, or electronically communicate in any other way between the clients’ sites and his office.  Obie had an eidetic memory.  He would memorize the programs the various clients either developed themselves or bought from other contractors.  He would type them into his company’s system after he physically left the client.  Many times, he would not get the whole program typed in.  A lot of those programs depended on other programs and functions that the various clients also paid for.  In other words, many times the programs that Obie stole did not work.  It was my job to get those programs to work.  Obie was the Genius.  I was just the employee who was lucky to have such a Genius as my idol. 

One year, at tax time, Obie wanted the accounting reports for this one client to report a loss of revenue instead of an increase in profits.  This was only needed for that one nightly execution of that client’s system.  The original programs were supposed to be the only ones in place after that evening.  I refused to take part in this demand.  I would not change the programs on a parallel system, run it and update certain databases, and destroy the timely backups and hardware.  Needless to say, I did not work for Obie anymore.

Another company was formed because a doctor who made a lot of money had a son who could not keep a job.  This doctor started that son in business.  That son hired people to make cheap copies of programs for hospitals and pharmacies.  I was one of those people hired.  The programs that his company produced look like they worked, if you do not know much about medical topics.  These programs were then sold to companies (hospitals and pharmacies) that deal with peoples’ health.  That doctor’s son won’t listen if you point out where the calculations are wrong.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          If you liked reading this                                                                                                                                You might want to read                                                                                                                                   One of THESE