Today's Timerick: With Vaccine Mandate Looming, Business Owners Face Wary Workers

 

Wary workers won't get vaxed;

they run the risk of being axed.

Bizness owners do complain

that their staffers still maintain

that a puncture to the skin

is now tantamount to sin.

Where they get this addled thought

is probably from some crackpot.

America would rather shirk

common sense than stay at work.

People know that smoking's bad.

Drinking may kill your doodad.

But somehow with a simple shot

people go all Huguenot --

martyrs to some Fed intrigue;

victims of a quack blitzkrieg!

Phooey to such aberration.

Employers will use automation.

Today's Timerick: Airlines Gird for Thanksgiving Travel Test After Rocky Year

 

The time has come, the time is near

to visit relatives so dear.

And so upon the plane I board

with nothing but a harpsichord.

I never bring my luggage now

cuz it gets so lost anyhow --

I'd rather get insurance paid

on some antique that is mislaid.

My seat has shrunk since last I flew;

they must think I'm an allen screw.

The meal I'm served is vulcanized

and so stale it has crystallized. 

The in-flight movie is so dull

it's cracking up my fragile skull.

And in the seat right next to me

a man is snoring blissfully.

He shifts his bulk to block my view

of anything but his muumuu. 

And then it's time to you-know-what,

but how will I get past this nut?

My busted bladder's not severe;

I just won't fly again this year . . . 

Haiku: 詩人は便秘です

 

the little tin pan

with not enough oil in it

burns the anchovy

小さなブリキの鍋

オイルが足りない

カタクチイワシを燃やす

the green hollow air

reverberates with nothing --

shreds of bark remain

緑の中空の空気
何も響かない-
樹皮の断片が残っています

lefse on the grill

flour covers her apron

the smell of burnt grain

グリルのレフセ
小麦粉が彼女のエプロンを覆っている
焦げた穀物のにおい

The gray clouds are scrubbed

clean and white again tonight --

the moon stays unwashed.

灰色の雲がこすり落とされます

今夜もきれいで白く-

月は洗われないままです。

The Latest Proctologist Jokes.

 

Aren't you ashamed of yourself

for clicking on this link?

Don't you have anything

better to do?

Timerick: Gun-Control Support Drops Amid Growing Crime and Firearm Purchases.

 

Lemme tell you something, son;

there is nothing like a gun.

Hefted in a manly hand

it will make you feel quite grand.

Did you know the Feds curtail

guns and ammo when for sale?

Used to be you'd pay in cash

and got your gun as quick as hash.

But now, alas, that ain't the case;

the red tape is a huge disgrace.

Try buying a Kalashnikov;

you will be told to bugger off!

And when you want to buy a Glock

they'll tell you they are out of stock.

No dum dum bullets or hand grenades --

How can a guy go on crusades?

Now down in Mexico, my lad,

things are not yet quite so bad.

If you have enough dinero

you can be a bandolero.

Guns and apple pie, amigo;

that's the true blue Yankee ego.

So start with BB guns, my boy,

to join the brutal hoi polloi!

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

I ordered a new oven but it's still in port they say/I need it for the pumpkin pie on this Thanksgiving day/I guess I'll light a fire in the basement on cement/and roast the turkey over embers with no decent vent/And if my cooking is all charred and turns out to be smelly/I guess I'll order something from The Brothers Kosher Deli. 

Timerick: Gun Law Allowing Police to Seize Weapons From Potential Shooters Often Isn’t Used.

 

A crazy man walked down the street;

his eyes you did not want to meet.

For if you did he'd yell at you,

and scream just like a cockatoo.

He had a gun; he waved it madly.

He crooned to it, and called it Bradley.

Was he a vet; what was his race?

The cops ignored him, just in case.

He shot up windows, aimed at birds;

he was a menace, in other words.

No John Wayne would face him down,

and so he terrorized the town.

Until, that is, he shot a bear,

who didn't take it debonair.

The critter pawed him right and left

and gave his head an awful cleft.

So now the crazy man reposes

in a nursing home with roses.

The nurses took his gun away;

twas easier than mowing hay.

When cops their duty shirk so well,

then madmen with their shot and shell

can walk our streets quite unmolested --

knowing they won't be arrested!

Haiku: 詩人には腰痛があります

 

no one rends chickens

the red puddles dry crusty

they want a desk job

誰も鶏を引き裂かない

赤い水たまりは無愛想に乾く

彼らはデスクの仕事をしたい

with one ping dinging

and another one singing

my hands are wringing

1回のpingで
そしてもう一人は歌っています
私の手は絞っている

under a dead tree

grass crawling with cockchafers --

there's only black mud.

枯れ木の下
コフキコガモと草を這う-
黒い泥しかありません。

Try Smiling When You Shave . . .

 

When I make the effort to smile, to grin broadly, while I shave, I find I cut myself much less often.

You can draw any conclusion you like from that; or none at all, hoping, perhaps, instead, that a man who simpers at himself in the mirror deserves to have his throat cut.

Waking up this Sunday morning I immediately thought about baking and/or cooking something to serve to my neighbors here in Valley Villa Apartments. I often have such thoughts upon awaking. And I often act on them. But this morning as I stretched and yawned like a cat, turning over on my left side to caress my new bride, I felt a distinct distaste for the hurly-burly involved in making a big meal to serve out our front door or as a Potlatch in the Community Room.

(As I write this Amy is already in the kitchen making pear butter to give away to our neighbors after church.)

Then a vagrant yet pleasant thought drifted into my unfurnished head. Why not make something . . . not to portion out as servings, but as a whole casserole meal to give away to some couple or family at church this morning? I am intrigued by this idea. What will be the reaction when Amy and I approach a couple at church after Sacrament Meeting, to offer them a pan of spaghetti casserole and a Tupperware container full of Amy's cookie crumble pudding? I will carefully note the reactions and duly report them back to you, faithful reader, at the end of this essay.

For I am now beginning a new phase in my writing. I am become another Montaigne -- writing reflective essays on my life and the life around me. This is as a result of the heightened state of aufklarung I enjoy as a newly-wed. A newly-wed who has just married the same woman he lost 26 years earlier.

Writing a slick limerick about such a subject just doesn't cut the mustard.

I can't think that my musings will be very profound or original. They will be rambling, anecdotal, and, for the most part, inconsequential. Which disclaimer, of course, is how all writers have fished for compliments down through the ages. But, somewhat like Montaigne, I feel so self-contained in my own happy contentment right now that I don't give a rat's patootie as to the opinion of others who may read this. 

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

As we smoothed ourselves down for church, it came to me that the casserole and pudding should be given to the ward clerks, secretaries, and the Bishopric. With Tithing Settlement in full swing, this is a busy time for them -- I doubt they get home for Sunday dinner.

So that's what we did. I have no idea if any of it has been or will be eaten -- but there it sits in the clerk's office; a thank-offering for those who toil long hours over church membership, finances, and godly administration.

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

We have such a very small kitchen that both of us cannot be working in it at the same time. Only when doing dishes can we companionably stand side-by-side washing and drying. 

Walking home from choir practice at church this afternoon I spotted one lorn red rose about to unfold, surrounded by a herd of rose hips, in the front yard of a staid brick house. Reaching through the mesh fence, I gave the stem a violent tug, nearly uprooting the entire bush. But I got the rose. And I gave it to Amy.

The last rose of summer. How corny can you get?

A Message from my New Bride.

 

Dear Tim,

Awake this night, pondering what responsibility I am running away from. Thoughts of our conversation while walking the track came to my mind, I began to think tonight about how I could best support you. I read Mosiah 12-13, I read 3 Nephi 21-22. I prayed for you. Then I began to listen to things on YouTube. Just random things but God knows all things. My understanding was opened. 

Your goals are small compared to what God wants them to be. Think bigger than just you and me. How can you help the world?  What touches your heart and gives you a desire to help the world be a better place?  What do you need to study in order to have the knowledge to support that idea? To support us until you reach your goal? 

If the answer is that working for Adam will get you to the next level, then that is great. In January will I still need to be part of this venture? If so then there is something else for you to learn. Let's ask God to help with that. What I am saying is that I don't want to earn more than you. If I do then I am a usurper.

I know that you are God's man. What you are seeking is seeking you. I thank God for the wonderful and beautiful marriage we have. I thank God for the intelligence and wisdom He has blessed you with. I thank God for answering our prayers according to the faith we have.  I Love You,

Amy

Timerick: Hi, I’m a Leaf Blower. Everybody Hates Me. (Thanks to Jason Gay.)

 

why can't the leaves be left alone/instead of being ever blown/across the lawns of middle class/folks who love their tidy grass?/bagging leaves is such a bore/ a mindless pointless bourgeois chore/I'd rather plant a Norway pine/than listen to a blower's whine.