An altar of stones

And it came to pass that he built an altar of stones, and made an offering unto the Lord, and gave thanks unto the Lord our God.

First Nephi. Chapter Two. Verse Seven.

An altar of rude stone

is all I have to show

for my poor service here

and my attempts to sow.

No mighty edifice

will mark my passing breath.

Some gravel and some dust

are all I leave at death.

Still, I cannot contain

the praise and gratitude

I want to whoop to God

for blessings I've accrued!

Daily Diary 03/15/2019

t’s 2:30 in the afternoon and I’m soaking my feet in tepid water laced with Epsom salts. I walked to the Drs office this morning so he could prescribe for my belly rash. He says it’s a fungus/yeast infection and gave me Nystatin cream for it. Plus he says keep my underbelly dry at all times. He also prescribed Finasteride for my enlarged prostate. The sun finally came out today, so I didn’t have to wear my blue fleece vest under my jacket (the zipper is broke on my jacket so I can’t zip it up anymore.) For an early supper I’m having a hot beef salad -- beef chunks sauteed in sherry, fish sauce, and apple cider vinegar for several hours and then poured over a big garden salad, with blue cheese dressing. Topped with cashews. BTW, the doc persuaded me to get the sleeping mask for my apnea. And on Monday I go back in for treatment of my hemorrhoids. I threw my dirty socks on my living room couch as soon as I got home, and they’ll probably stay there until Sunday. That is all.

The Cost of Crime in Venezuela

CARACAS, Venezuela—From his hilltop slum overlooking this decaying capital, Luis Martínez lamented that his once-lucrative armed robbery and kidnapping-for-ransom business is way down.

Bullets are too costly, as are parts for his getaway car. Few victims carry U.S. dollars these days; the local bolivar is nearly worthless. There’s simply less money around to steal.

“Being a ‘malandro’ isn’t what it used to be,” said Mr. Martínez, 26, using a local idiom for gangster. Sipping cheap rum under a streetlight with a partner, he pulled out a Glock semiautomatic from his fanny pack to show he was down to five bullets. “I have to ration these. It’s getting too hard to keep up.”

WSJ

The cost of crime in Venezuela

turns Caracas gangsters pale-ah.

(Sorry my alliteration

is a true abomination.)

*

Bullets dear at any price;

no on can afford much vice.

Kidnappers now sing the blues:

ransoms paid in IOU's.

*

There is no more cash to steal;

pickpockets can't buy a meal.

Crooks down there must contemplate

giving up and going straight!

Choice above all other lands

And inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments, ye shall prosper, and shall be led to a land of promise; yea, even a land which I have prepared for you; yea, a land which is choice above all other lands.
First Nephi. Chapter Two. Verse 20.

Our land is choice, our people blessed;

we suckle on God's kindly breast.

We prosper in the shade of peace;

with freedom to pursue increase.

*

This only can continue when

commandments are obeyed by men.

And if the evil we embrace

then God will hide his loving face.

*

My duty is to so obey

His laws and never think to stray,

 and so to keep our country strong,

defending right -- refusing wrong.

Welcome to America, the Home of the Bribe

From 2011 to 2018, prosecutors say, parents paid a total of $25 million to William Singer, a college-admissions consultant, to bribe coaches and administrators to designate their children as top recruits in such sports as football, water polo, soccer, track and volleyball at universities including the University of Southern California, Georgetown and Wake Forest. Some parents also allegedly paid Mr. Singer as much as $75,000 for test-cheating services.

WSJ

Welcome to America, the home of bribery.

Where ev'rything is 'fixed' at school, including spelling bee.

From Delaware to Tennessee gratuities provide

a helping hand for students who have let their studies slide.

*

Since admission to the Ivy League is predicated on

greasing palms to perpetrate a sly collegiate con,

we ought to let payola just run riot through the land

(you think that TIME would print this poem if I gave them ten grand?)

*

And what's to stop us bribing Kim Jong-un and other jerks

to make them stop ignoble and nefarious fireworks?

How much cold mazuma would Trump need to take the bait

and pack up his belongings and the White House to vacate? 

*

And maybe God in heaven is amenable to graft

and would accept a generous Well Fargo banking draft.

So let the meek inherit what is left of mother earth;

the rest of us will bribe our way to some celestial berth.

And choose eternal life

and choose eternal life . . . 

Second Nephi. Chapter 2. Verse 28.

What have I picked for myself today;

Folly, or something more fine?

Will I choose dark clouds because they are near,

or will I want something to shine?

So many choices, and voices proclaim

'do this' or 'do that' cuz you're free.

But I have learned much to my cost that wrong turns

won't hasten God's eternity.

To live with the Father and Son once again

I'll use my volition today

to harvest the sweetest of heavenly fruit

and toss sour grapes far away. 

Time is like a river, cuz the concept is all wet

Our bodies know when to fall asleep and when to wake up. Our brains can keep track of short bursts of time like a mental stopwatch. But in our memories, our sense of time is fuzzy. Now, research is beginning to uncover how we put our memories in order.

WSJ

Time is like a river, cuz the concept is all wet.

Time is something foolish that I'd rather just forget.

Time is more a fantasy than anything concrete.

I don't care what Einstein says, it's merely a conceit.

And memory's another fraud -- remembering the past

brings up nothing but cartoons as drawn by Thomas Nast.

I may be old and cranky, but I tell you anyhow --

there's only one reality, and it is labeled NOW.

*****************************

I made a baby with two heads

An international group of researchers, including some inventors of the popular gene-editing tool Crispr, called for a world-wide moratorium on editing DNA in human sperm, eggs and embryos to prevent births of genetically modified babies.

WSJ

I made a baby with two heads by editing her genes;

she can go on double dates when she is in her teens.

I made another infant with long pointy ears like Spock;

there's lots of money to be made will all that Star Trek schlock.

*

Cooking up a monster in the lab ain't out of line;

it's merely being retro, like that good old Frankenstein.

Just think if babies filled their diapers up with bars of gold;

mothers would drive Cadillacs and never want to scold.

*

Making babies better with a snip and then a splice

is just as safe as winning with a pair of loaded dice.

Perhaps I'll tinker with a tyke to give it sky blue hair,

then create one with strong bones and use him as a chair . . . 

*

The march of science must go on; to stop would be a crime.

Just think of infant popsicles that taste of lemon lime.

Technology will reign supreme, and barely have we scratched

the possibility that all our newborns will be hatched!

The Corpulent Customer

For people who identify as large, plus-size or fat, dining out can be a social and physical minefield. Chairs with arms or impossibly small seats leave marks and bruises. Meals are spent in pain, or filled with worry that a flimsy chair might collapse.

Deciding where to eat is a challenge. Diners often comb through endless photographs of restaurant food online, hoping someone has posted an image of the chairs or the space between tables.

NYT

I happen to be overweight; when I go out to eat

I never know ahead of time if I will fit the seat.

I avoid a booth because they're narrow as can be,

and often leave a welt across my prominent belly.

*

I'm used to chairs that do not hold my fundament too well,

and make me think I'm sitting on a cast iron barbell.

And bathrooms are another thing; why must they be so tight?

Getting in and out of 'em will take me half the night!

*

They give you tiny napkins when they ought to offer bibs;

I like to eat with gusto, whether salad or some ribs.

Do not presume to offer anything in "supersize" --

You'll get no tip from me if you should choose to so advise.

 ***********************************

Save it were his family

And it came to pass that he departed into the wilderness. And he left his house, and the land of his inheritance, and his gold, and his silver, and his precious things, and took nothing with him, save it were his family . . . 
First Nephi. Chapter Two. Verse 4.

Getting on in years, I find

wealth and status ain't aligned

with the ease my heart does crave

from the dark and lonely grave.

*

The wilderness of life is real;

it breaks you on its ruthless wheel.

And gold and land are helpless things

that do not give me saving wings.

*

But when I know my children sleep

in peace and safety, then I weep

with joy and love and tenderness --

they make life's blows a soft caress.