NA PO WRI MO, DAY 25: ’HOOCHEE MAMA

’Hoochee Mama

On days when the sun is shining
And I feel my lazy bones
There’s just one place I go to
To satisfy my jones
A river runs right through it
Right through my neighborhood
And that’s where you can find me
’Cause she makes me feel so good

I love my Chattahoochee Mama
She’s deep and she is wide
My Chattahoochee Mama
Grab your tube and come inside

Some banks, they keep your money
Behind a big ol’ steel door
But the banks I love the very most
Are along the river’s shore
I like to walk ’long side her
She never lets me down
But beware the man who crosses her
In her waters you will drown

I love my Chattahoochee Mama
She’s deep and she is wide
My Chattahoochee Mama
Grab your tube and come inside

I love my Chattahoochee Mama
She’s deep and she is wide
My Chattahoochee Mama
Grab your tube and come inside
Grab your tube and come inside
Grab your tube and come inside

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 24: DEAD DOGMA

Dead Dogma

I once had my dogma
Squashed flat by a karma
One time in the Year of the Rat.

To soothe all my sorrow
I went and I borrowed
A honking big ol’ baseball bat.

With which I beat that yin-yang,
And knocked out his front fang
Saying, “That, my dear fellow, is that.”

So when you drive your karma
Stay away from my dogma
(Which now I’ve replaced with a cat.)

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 23: THE RITUAL

A quiet morning moment of reflection at the Western Wall. (Photo by Rahel Jaskow.)

The Ritual

I wake.  Across my Face I drag a Blade
And rinse myself.  The Soap flows down the Drain.
I dress, and kiss She Who Must Be Obeyed,
And then I’m off to face the daily Pain.

But first I stop to say the ancient Prayers,
Enwrapped in Tallit and Phylacteries,
And there I praise the One who heals all Cares,
He Who created Ocean, Birds, and Trees.

’Tis strange.  Though my Belief in Him’s not strong
This daily Practice comforts, gives me Peace.
“May we do what is right, and not what’s wrong,
And may the Day when Hate and Bloodshed cease,

Come soon.”  It’s for these Things that I must pray;
Know you a better Way to start the Day?

HAMBURGER HELPERS

Your burger needs a buddy. A few Burgerly Accoutrements: Romaine lettuce, sliced beefsteak tomatoes, sweet Vidalia onions.

Every so often, the Missus and I will get a jones for grilled meatstuffs.  And it doesn’t always have to be a thick, juicy steak (not that there’s anything wrong with that!) - sometimes hamburgers and hot dogs are just what the doctor ordered.

We put on a regular Meat-Fest yesterday.  Burgers three ways: beef (ground chuck and round), bison, and turkey.  And tube-steaks, in both beef and bison varieties.  She Who Must Be Obeyed doctored the burgers up by mixing a goodly dose of Montreal Steak Seasoning into the meat, which gave it a wonderful peppery, garlicky flavor.  And since the patties were going to be grilled (as opposed to searing them in a skillet), she put a dent in the middle of each one, so they would cook up without developing unsightly Burger Bulges as burgers on the grill are wont to do.

To make those burgers and dawgs happy, we had plenty of condiments in our condimentarium.  Ketchup, sure - the Missus is never without a goodly supply of ketchup near to hand - but also yellow mustard, wasabi sauce, sriracha mayo, and coarse-grain Dijon mustard.  Of course, the traditional Hamburger Helpers were on hand as well: lettuce, tomato, and sweet Vidalia onion.

I don’t know how you like your burgers, but I’m a medium-rare guy.  Rare’s OK, too.  I like it to be kinda cool and red in the center, e coli be damned.  As for hot dogs, I like to grill ’em until they get a nice char on the outside... there’s nothing as tasty as a well-charred Frankfurter Sausage.

The only unfortunate aspect of the whole affair?  Too many leftovers.  Which, of course, is not unfortunate at all.

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 22: LIFE

Life

Let me without misgiving state:
It feels really, really great
To occupy some real estate
Upon our planet Earth.

Like ears of corn, or choc’late bars
Or guys who drag-race funny cars
My atoms come from distant stars
(A source of constant mirth).

There’s not too much I have to do,
Except to breathe out CO₂
Convert my food to pee and poo -
That’s life, for what it’s worth.

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 21: A ROYAL BIRTHDAY SALUTE

A Royal Birthday Salute

O, Happy Birthday, Lizzie
We’re glad that you’re the queen
Of jolly, jolly England
A place that’s really keen

We’re glad that you can celebrate
This trip around the Sun
Let’s raise a glass to you, dear lass
We hope that you have fun

[Today, Queen Elizabeth II celebrates her eighty-seventh birthday, just a few months behind Eli, Hizzownself.]

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 20: GO GENTLE

Go Gentle

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
So Dylan Thomas said. He was half right:
Old age may burn and rage at close of day,
But rage, directed in a loved one’s way
Serves ill the one who helped us in our fight.
Thus, do thou go gentle into that good night.

IN WHICH I COMBINE TOM CLANCY AND AN OLD POOP-JOKE

I started reading Tom Clancy’s novels almost by accident, having picked up a paperback copy of The Sum of All Fears while enduring a lengthy layover at the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport some twenty-odd years ago.  A few pages in, I was hooked: How could you not love a book with suspense, international intrigue, high-level politics, and an atomic bomb-based terrorist plot?

It didn’t take me long to catch up on all of Clancy’s Jack Ryan novels and wait for new ones, each one packed with obsessive amounts of military and technical detail, not to mention Scary Ideas.  Clancy’s novel Debt of Honor (1994) ended with a pilot using an airliner as a flying bomb, kamikaze-style, to take out the U. S. Capitol and most of its occupants... a fictional attack that seemed eerily prescient following the events of September 11, 2001.

I got all the way up to Teeth of the Tiger (2003) before I ran aground.  It was a small factual error - insignificant, really - having to do with a character’s having a 1948 silver dollar.  But I knew that there is no such animal, so with the thinnest of reasons my suspension of disbelief went straight down the toilet.

Among Clancy’s prodigious output are two books in the Jack Ryan series: The Bear and the Dragon (2000) and Red Rabbit (2002).  It would have been especially amusing had he elected to combine the two volumes into a single mash-up tome: The Bear and the Rabbit.

“Why, Jack - how is it that your suit stays so nice and clean?”

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 19: SO HAPPY

So Happy

Laboring masses cry,“Thank Gawd It’s Friday!”
Overjoyed at the end of the week.
Not me: I say, “So Happy It’s Thursday!”
But please do not think me a freak.

When one is retired, each day’s like another,
The weekdays, at least, seem the same.
But I find amusement my own way (O, brother)
By playing the Acronym Game!

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 18: EXPLORATION

Exploration

There is so much I yearn to know
And places where I’d like to go
Atop the case with all the books
With photographs in hidden nooks
Behind the couch and on the floor
And in the world beyond the door

I curl up in the bathroom sink
In shower stalls I take a drink
In Daddy’s closet I might hide
(I hope I don’t get locked inside!)
The DVR warms my behind
While I grab the cord on the Venetian blind

The defining trait of cats, you see:
Is our “’satiable curtiosity!”

GETTING TO KNOW YOU...

...or, Jimbo’s worst nightmare.

Levon makes a new friend.  Tries to, anyway.


Hmmm... what’s this Gawdawful thing?


Whatever it is, it’s ugly as hell...


Dude, your breath stinks.

LEAN, MEAN, AND GREEN

Asparagus with lemon zest and nutmeg.

Springtime is the perfect time to eat asparagus, otherwise known as the Vegetable That Makes Your Pee Smell Nasty.  (Research has shown that most people indeed produce stinky urine after eating asparagus, but roughly 22% of the population lacks the ability to detect its peculiar aroma.)

That odoriferous side effect doesn’t faze me, though, nor does its diuretic properties.  Because, well, asparagus!  It’s honkin’ delicious, low in calories, and easy (I almost said “easy-peasy,” but then I thought better of it) to prepare in any number of different ways.

You can stir-fry it.  You can steam it.  You can grill it.  And you can roast it, which is what I generally do, using a technique I learned from local boy Alton Brown.

All you do is trim the bottoms off the stalks - that’s the unpleasantly woody part - after giving them a good rinse.  Spread ’em out on a baking sheet and schpritz ’em with a little olive oil, then stick ’em in a 500°F oven to roast.  Ten minutes is plenty - midway through, shake up the pan or turn the stalks over using tongs.  When they’re done, take ’em out and season with a few pinches of kosher salt.  Then (the secret of the recipe!) add a goodly amount of  lemon zest and freshly grated nutmeg.  (I use a Microplane grater to zest the lemon as well as for grating the nutmeg.)   Serve hot out of the oven or at room temperature... it kicks the ass of pretty much any other green vegetable.

Asparagus.  Lean, mean, and green.  Gotta love it!

SCOTTY, PASS THE SYRUP

The other day, I sat down to breakfast at the local IHOP with the Minyan Boyz. Irwin the Paintner was buying, as is the tradition when one is celebrating a birthday or observing a Yahrzeit: in this case, his birthday. And this is what was delivered unto me:


Your typical IHOP breakfast.

Eggs, turkey sausage, a short stack.  Tasty looking, sure. But, somehow, its familiar appearance reminded me of something that was Not Breakfasty. Then I remembered...

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 17: ADIEU

Adieu

On finishing our life’s long toil
And shuffling off this mortal coil
Sometimes it is a great surprise
The ways and means of our demise

Some by water, some by fire
Some by crazy Uncle Meyer
Some by drought and some by flood
And some, bacilli in the blood
Some by knife and some by gun
And some from having too much fun
Some by food and some by drink
And some because they didn’t think

Some by the hand of evil men
They knew not where, they knew not when
One moment here, next moment not
Such was their tragic, painful lot

Repentance, prayer, and charity
May soften the severe decree
When comes the time to say adieu
May grace and mercy follow you

[an interpretation of the U-netaneh Tokef prayer recited by Jews on the High Holidays, inspired by recent events]

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 16: I AM OF THE EARTH

[Today’s poem is by Houston Steve, who takes on the topic of human significance in a boundless, timeless Universe. Not only is it a thoughtful meditation, it is (to be hoped) a welcome break from my own dopey, feculent poetry. Enjoy.]

 I Am of the Earth

I am of the Earth
I have been a part of it from the beginning
I shall be a part of it until the end
And when the end comes
I shall continue to be a part of
Whatever comes next

For I am formed of bits of matter
That have been a part of
The Universe
From the time of the Big Bang
Or whatever caused those bits to
Fly
Coalesce
Take shape
And form
Me

When the time is done for this accidental form
That is me
To detach
Then I shall return
Slowly
Surely
Inevitably
To the bits of which I am made

And then
When the Earth is done
And the bits continue their flight through the Universe
Perhaps
One day
They shall find each other once again

But without doubt
With or without my consent
With or without my complaint
With or without my knowing
I shall continue my flight through
The Universe
Forevermore

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 15: TAXATION VEXATION

Taxation Vexation

I hate to pay my income tax
I’d rather suffer forty whacks
Or get a stretching on the racks
I hate to pay my income tax

To calculate the income tax
Can break the most determined backs
Especially if one is lax
And waits to calculate the tax

To pay this tax, it really sucks
It makes me part with all those bucks
To part with bucks doth sorely vex
I hate to pay my income tex

DAY OF REMEMBRANCE

A memorial wreath left at the Wall of Remembrance, Latrun, by the U.S. Army Training and Doctrine Command.

Tomorrow, Israel celebrates sixty-five years of independence... but that independence came at a steep price.  Today is Yom ha-Zikaron, the Day of Remembrance - Memorial Day.  It is a day to remember and honor the nearly 23,000 soldiers who gave their lives to defend the land since 1860, along with the nearly 4,000 civilian victims of terror attacks.

Considering Israel’s size, it is an especially sobering statistic, comparable to the loss of over a million Americans.


Part of the Wall of Remembrance at Latrun, this section honors those who gave their lives in the period between the Six-Day War (1967) and the Yom Kippur War (1973).

May their memory endure as inspiration for deeds of charity and goodness in our lives. May their souls thus be bound up in the bond of life, and may they rest in peace.

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 14: THE RELUCTANT QUEEN

The Reluctant Queen

Good Queen Nefertiri
Would often grow weary
Of her husband's amorous intentions.

“O, great Pharaoh Rameses,
My head aches, don’t mess with me
To your harem devote your attentions!”

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 13: A TAXABLE DACTABLE

A Taxable Dactable

Higgledy-piggledy,
Last-minute Charlie
Begins gath’ring papers
To calculate tax.

Charlie’s the ultimate
Procrastinator-Man.
Not just opinion, Sir:
These are the facts.

[It’s not exactly a double-dactyl, but it’s pretty damn close.  And if you substitute “Elisson” for “Charlie,” it’s even closer.]

NA PO WRI MO, DAY 12: CATHEDRAL

Cathedral

They call it the Cathedral of Golf,
that place where trod Jones, Snead, and Sarazen,
and where Furyk, Woods, and Couples yet contend.
Patrons watch in awed silence
as their heroes struggle for elusive victory
amidst azalea- and dogwood-clad greensward.
It is awesome, this Cathedral,
and there in Augusta
with bended knee and hushed voice
the supplicants offer their obeisance.

At the state parks and munis
where I learned to play the Scottish Game,
it was different.
Teebox waits were interminable,
the fairways execrable,
footprint-cratered bunkers rarely raked.
Not a cathedral there, but
a raucous, down-home church
filled with gospel music
and the oath-filled singing
of weekend players.