Not sure whose root
tripped and made me bang my snoot.
Coulda been an oak’s joke
or a hickory’s trickery.
Photo credit: By Nicholas A. Tonelli from Northeast Pennsylvania, USA – Hearts Content Scenic Area (7), CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=61775566
Anyone want to place bets on the precise start of the president’s Twitter meltdown following Rachel Maddow’s interview of Len Parnas? Or maybe the number of tweets from him in the subsequent 24 hours?
Or does Vegas have this covered?
Goodreads keeps sending me notifications saying “You are now friends with” so-and-so.
Goodreads puts far more effort into me having a healthy social life than I do. They’re a bit heavy-handed about it, though.
“IN SOVIET RUSSIA, FRIENDS MAKE *YOU.*”
This handemade leather-bound volume is about the length of my forefinger; it was an especially cool Christmas present from a writer friend of mine. She picked it up for me at a Renaissance Faire. She told me I could write all my “secret thoughts” here. (I’ve got a lot of ’em.)
I personally like to think that it looks like something out of Stephen King’s “The Dark Tower” universe, like maybe the place where Roland inscribes clues about his quest. (I know he doesn’t need to search for clues in any of the books, but still.) Or maybe it’s a convenient pocket-tome for the vengeance-driven Arya Stark from “Game of Thrones” to keep her “list.”
I haven’t yet decided precisely what I will record here. I quite love it, though. It’s sitting on my desk as a reminder for me to write. (You know what would fit perfectly on a single page? All the progress I’ve made on my novel in the past six months. Maybe I’ll start with that.)
My latest brilliant idea — somebody should make a board game based on Dante’s Inferno. Like a send-up of Monopoly or Sorry.
Hell, you wouldn’t even need advertising art. All those Gustave Dore illustrations are in the public domain.
RUN WITH THIS, people.
Pictured: fun.
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.
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.
