Hey, guys — if you happen to be amused by any of these poemy-type things that I repeatedly fumble at, you can find all of my 2019 publications right here:

Hey, guys — if you happen to be amused by any of these poemy-type things that I repeatedly fumble at, you can find all of my 2019 publications right here:

Her son,
her daughter,
have the same happy eyes.
As though their auroral kindnesses
were a shining blue birthright —
a girl’s compassion can apprise
a legacy of sunlit skies.
(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2019

Photo credit: Larali21 [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D
So, dudes, this really cool thing happened during the first wee hours of Christmas 2019. I couldn’t sleep (yet again) so I was Twittering in bed — I wound up responding to the #Dimerick hashtag, where people were poking fun of Donald Trump with limericks. I wrote four.
George Conway retweeted two of them. (As you’re doubtlessly aware, he’s the husband of White House spokesperson Kellyanne Conway — which is funny, because he’s an outspoken and highly visible critic of Trump. He’s also a very smart guy — if you’re not following him on Twitter, then you should remedy that right now. )
The two tweets just took off. I got 8,000 “likes” on the first one that you see below, and 5.8 thousand “likes” on the second one. (Both got more than a thousand retweets.) All sorts of people were retweeting them at Trump, Mitch McConnell, and the rest of the Senate GOP leadership. (If the secret police come for me, I love you all, by the way.)
I know it’s a silly thing to be proud of. But these limericks are … my most popular poems to date. I might have finally found my real niche.
Just for kicks, I’m sharing the other two that I wrote below as well.




I hope that you are all looking forward to a rockin’ New Year’s Eve. It’s hard to believe that we are not only ringing in a new year, but also a new decade — “2020” still sounds like science fiction to me.
Where does the time go? Somewhere irretrievable.
Anyway, here’s a couple of Pinterest finds for my fellow 1980’s nostalgia nerds. (We’ve got a nice little subculture goin’ on Facebook.) These are a few covers from January 1, 1980 (or in the case of the weekly TV Guide, the decade’s first full week). Try to wrap your head around the fact that, in a few days, the decade will have begun a full forty years ago.
Oh … I couldn’t resist throwing in a couple of comic book covers dated January 1980, too. I actually had that issue of “Battlestar Galactica.” I still remember it sitting in a stack at the bottom of my closet, with one or two others — vastly outnumbered by “Sgt. Rock” and various “Archie” titles.






I wish you and your families a very Merry Christmas and a Happy, Peaceful, Prosperous New Year!

His name is J. Sebastian Cunningham and he is a damn fine satirist. This still cracks me up every time I read it. (The James Woods reference is a nod to my resemblance to the actor.) Thanks again, J.
What was old is now new again.
Enter a complex yet unassuming man. One, well versed in word, both written and spoken. A man followed modestly by a people hungry for prose. A man that didn’t disappoint. Enter the writer’s mind, if you will, into the dark recesses of a James Woodian insanity that no Shakespearean play could duplicate, let alone imitate. Enter the mind of greatness and madness. Enter a mind living in…
The Twilight Zone.

Hey, I got one really terrific early Christmas present — Illumen will publish a poem of mine, “Smiling Among Inert Shipwrecks,” in its Spring 2020 issue. This will be the second time that the print-only publication has featured my work — the first was when Illumen published my “Three Dreamers” set of poems back in 2013.
Illumen is a speculative poetry journal that is released quarterly by Alban Lake Publishing. Its editorial focus is to “describe other worlds in poetic prose, challenge heroes and villains with eloquent words, show the nightmare of real life in all its disgusting mud and muck.” It’s a wonderful place for a writer to see their creative work appear, and I’m grateful to Editor Tyree Campbell for allowing me to share my voice there.

I had genuine, serious, grownup responsibilities to meet yesterday.
And I was up sleepless at 2:21 AM the prior evening pondering what would happen if a group of Terminators fought John Carpenter’s “The Thing.”
I am 47 years old, people.
And I’ve got two more for you:
What would happen if The Blob fought The Thing? I suppose it all boils down to which has the fastest, most successful cellular-level method of attack. What about the baddie from Dean Koontz’ “Phantoms?”
And what would happen if the vampires from “30 Days of Night” fought the infected from “28 Days Later?” Sort of a … “30 Days of Night Later” kinda scenario?
There needs to be a name for this disorder I have. There needs to be hope for a treatment.

There are few movies more quintessentially 80’s than “Gremlins” (1984). To this day, I still think it was a strange movie because of its successful juxtaposition of elements.
On the one hand, it was a family film with a sense of wonder and the kind of wholesome sentiments about the American family that you would associate with Steven Spielberg. (I was surprised to discover that though he was executive producer here, “Gremlins” was written by Chris Columbus and directed by Joe Dante.) It takes place in a small town on Christmas, and follows a Spielberg-esque, young, good-natured, male protagonist.
On the other hand, the violence and black humor were pretty unexpected for a mainstream blockbuster feature film. (If you’ve seen the movie, you can vividly remember the titular monsters being dispatched by the blender and the microwave, for example — and the murder of an elderly disabled woman is maybe the film’s biggest sight gag.) Even the monsters themselves (which were skillfully rendered in this era of pre-CGI practical effects) were a little too scary for younger kids. It was this movie, along with 1984’s “Indianan Jones and the Temple of Doom,” that led to the MPAA to establish its “PG-13” rating — for films that didn’t quite merit a hard “R,” but were still more intense than a mere “PG rating.”
What’s remarkable to me, though, is that these disparate elements were woven together more or less seamlessly. “Gremlins” isn’t “Casablanca” (1942), but it’s a fairly decent goofball movie that kinda works.
A little trivia — the department store where the heroic Gizmo finally dispatches the villainous Stripe is a Montgomery Ward, which modern audiences would not recognize. The chain went out of business in 2001. (The eponymous online retailer has no relationship to the old brick-and-mortar stores.) I last remember being at a “Ward’s” at Spotsylvania Mall in Virginia in the 1990’s.

Stepping out in a Christmas present that was handmade for me by a writer friend. (I love it.) I told her that it was a very homespun, writerly thing for me to wear — a homemade cap knit by a friend, and she laughed at that.
