Sunday Squibs

You may decline to see your children’s exes in the former places. You will see them though in your grandchildren’s faces

The West Coast has glamour 

The East Coast is old 

Midwestern beauty 

Is there to behold 

Vouchsafe me a vision

Open my eyes 

I me are nothing 

You are the prize

Gossip wouldn’t be bad is it wasn’t so hateful, but drained of its lifeblood it would no longer be gossip. 

When cancer is cured our descendants will view chemo and radiation the way we now view cupping and bleeding. 

The best teachers can enter into the ignorance of their students.

A well regulated militia is a bureaucracy of guns. 

The neurotic’s curse is to not recognize his comfort zone even when he’s in the middle of it. 

The carpenter needs to know two things: a. how to build things, and b. how much to charge. 

I know b: $1,000 per hour. To cover my deficit in a. 

Keep calm and carry on? It’s too late for that. 

Show me the poster that says, “Don’t Panic!”

If you don’t have a Plan B, you may be forced to accept a plan you would have considered Plan Z. 

My TV is the succubus 

That lies upon my brain 

Dazed, I have lost track of all

The hours down the drain

I should have bought up Google 

Oh dang it, bloody hell

I should have bet on the horse that won

Before the starting bell

My ideas met your ideas 

And our ideas had babies 

The kids grew up

And bit the world

And gave the poor thing rabies

This world is grass 

And soon shall pass

It’s been a gas

So said my lass

Now pack a bag

Offload your swag

No need to shave 

Enjoy your grave

Then grab a star

And ride it far

A road in the forest diverged. One path led to the world and its horrors. The other, to more forest. 

As my belief in evolution grows, so grows my disbelief in atheism. 

Beware the person who can’t say no

His passive aggression soon will blow

Is love what we want? The Inquisition thought it was acting lovingly when it burned heretics to save them from the eternal flames. 

Some people fake having a sense of humor the way I feign seriousness, but it’s hopeless. If I hear poor Mary has lost her husband, I can’t help wondering if she’s looked everywhere for him. 

The Zen master told us not to try to save the world, but just to polish the corner we find ourselves in. Is it an inside corner or an outside one, I ask. 

“Both,” he said. 

“And neither.”

The perfect crime is the one left undone. 

The foolproof plan is the one just for fun. 

Realizing there’s not enough time to savor everything the world has to offer, a person becomes a connoisseur… or a snob. 

That our faces should reveal our souls would be too drastic. 

Therefore the devil is the patron saint of surgeons plastic.