Squibs: April 1-14

 The manic depressive is feeling great as he speeds up the mountain, until he discovers the mountain has moved on without him. 

If you use the royal We you’ll be ridden out of town on a rail. We prefer the editorial We in this country. 

Writers are paper actors. 

Fascination with celebrities, gossip, and trivia distract me from the elephant in the room who at any moment might sit in my chair before I can get out of it. 

Reading a history of a news event from ten years ago,  I realize how wrong I had gotten everything. 

Mr. Big went real big

And did not go home

He was oft on the road

So his wife loved a gnome

His kids did not know him

His dog bit his leg

He lost his dear home 

His hat lost its peg

I must quit the booze

I’ve run out of luck

I tried NA beer

OMG WTF?!

The four types of prayer: adoration, thanksgiving, petition, and contrition rotate through my soul like a bubblegum light atop a cop car. 

Our nature oscillates between the Godlike and the wormish. 

The novelist sets a trap in which he catches himself. By the end we must decide whether to drown him, shoot him, or let him go. 

We all of us can shine if seen in the proper light. 

I had a big deal

You don’t give a rip. 

I tell you my tale,

You give service lip. 

Should the tables be turned 

And you want my ten-hup 

I’ll be checking my voice mails

Or training my pup. 

Before starting on a journey, it’s good to consider what could go wrong. But the anxious person turns his path into a razor’s edge. 

The Catholic Church thought the Jews never really got Jesus. The Protestants think the same about the Catholics. 

When the artist reaches perfection his job will just begin. The postmark will be obvious if he starts to mail it in. 

The caveman throwing a log on his fire could never imagine turning up the heat with the warmth of his finger on an app. 

Our prejudices are like the lobster’s shell. They must be shucked off for growth to continue. 

New love blinds a couple to each other’s faults. For happiness to continue, the rose tinted glasses of toleration must be donned. 4/15/22

I must be the death of the party if I’m to wake up alive the next day. 

What the Bible offers as comfort, the devil converts to complacency. 4/15/22

Among languages Dutch is as close to English as among beings the chimp is close to us. In dealing with us, the Dutchman learns English while the chimp to get an orange copies our ways. 

On the spectrum of intoxicants, alcohol lies somewhere between the beatific vision and love of the self. 

The writer who uses slang will in the future appear archaic and finally incomprehensible. 

Look at poor Shakespeare. 

Small talk is like children,

Good in its place. 

If it never grows up 

That is a pity

If an object is not where you left it, view that not as an annoyance, but as the beginning of a voyage of discovery. 4/15/22

I wish that I knew everyone,

Then I would not be so feared. 

My friends think that I am amazing. 

Strangers find me just weird. 

Our minds are so small 

We can’t know all that is great. 

A good friend of God’s

May be someone we hate. * 4/15/22

I dislike those rogue April days that feel like the following winter. *

Some days I feel like a Potemkin village. But even Mr. P. had a hearth to boil his tea, a cupboard with a crust of bread, and a pallet to stretch his frame at night. 

Pissed-off was his MO

Anger was his art

He knew exactly who he was. 

His ball cap said “Old Fart”*

My memories I recall through emotion

Some people think that is insane

I’d rather be plucking on heartstrings 

While they rolodex through their brains

To throw in the kitchen sink is ok. 

I have one request though: leave out the bidet*

As we become adults, we build a castle to assert our authority. Let us not lock the child we were in the dungeon. *

Kings have jesters to remind them of their inner child. 

I’ve grown used to my demons. I must learn not to take offense when God evicts them.*

My investment report lies on the table unopened. It’s only money. But I’d pay a hefty fee for a spiritual report to see if my soul is up or down this quarter. 

Evening anxiety leads me to the ceiling of inebriety which leaves me next morning on the floor of sobriety. 

If I’m missing an ingredient for my recipe, I just keep watching YouTube videos till I find a suitable substitute. I have to be careful though. One time I wound up with a chocolate cookie salad. *

Memories are like paths through the wild. 

Coming back we must hack them anew. 

At first I am lost like a child,

Till I spot the bread crumb of a clue. *

To the go-getter, the future is a to-do list. To the procrastinator, the future is a doodle pad. *4/15/22

We don’t like to believe in the devil. 

Indeed, he is just 

The hollow place in our heart,

Fearing nothing but expulsion. *

You tell me a fact. 

I counter it from Wiki. 

Your buddy at Harvard upgrades it. 

My source at the U.N, refines it some more

We’re caught in the whirlwind of nuance. 

We don’t have to like everyone, but scripture says we do have to love them. Including the dead ones too, I wonder. Or only those living?

My weekly screen report wildly exaggerates the number of hours I spend on my phone. A better metric would be how many times a day I pick up the damn thing. *