Since trees have souls

Moses 3:9 --  "And out of the ground made I, the Lord God, to grow every tree, naturally, that is pleasant to the sight of man; and man could behold it. And it became also a living soul."

Since trees have souls we all should hark
to pain inflicted peeling bark.
And our humanity renege 
when pulling on a sickly twig.
Yet trees need pruning to produce
a harvest that can be profuse.
I'd rather lots of fruit provoke
then spend my life as poison oak.

No Beer In Venezuela

From today's Wall Street Journal:

CARACAS, Venezuela—The largest private Venezuelan company and producer of 80% of the beer consumed here began to shut down its last beer plant on Friday, the latest deprivation in a country crippled by shortages.

In Venezuela the malt

has pretty much come to a halt.

Things have got gnarly

without any barley;

you cannot brew beer with rock salt. 

God's Daily Gifts

Alma 10:5 -- " . . . for I have seen much of his mysteries and his marvelous power . . .

The swarming ants upon the walk, the slanted rays of light,
the budding, bursting, green of life before my blinkered sight;
the sliding mist upon the slopes, the smell of earthen wet,
the babe upon its mother's breast -- how is it I forget?
The wonders and the miracles come at me thick and fast
and at my heedless shallow soul I feel a bit aghast. 
I do not need great miracles, nor voices from the mount;
I only need God's daily gifts to recognize and count!

A friend to the king

Alma 18:3 -- " . . . we know that he is a friend to the king . . . "

Even hardened despots on their thrones of pomp and gold
can be affected by attendants serving them eightfold.
For loyalty is such a thing as gives a servant power
over all the great ones that he serves upon the hour.
I do not know who makes a king or president appear;
I only know that if we serve we ought to be sincere. 

The Hands of a Clown . . .

(Author's Note: I spent 35 years as a circus clown)

A sad moment: I've already stopped playing my musical saw, and now this morning I did a Primary children's activity at church, twisting balloon animals -- but the arthritis in my hands is now so bad that I've decided to retire from balloon sculpting. I'm getting too slow & clumsy, and it hurts too much . . .

The Juice Cleanse

From the New York Times:  "There is no scientific basis to support undergoing juice detoxification or colon cleanses, as trendy as they may be."

There was a young woman whose juicing
she claimed all her toxins were sluicing.
She said she did fine
with grape juice (read: wine),
as she merrily went about goosing.

The Lord is Called by Many Names

Alma 9:17 -- " , , , for the Lord will be merciful unto all who call on his name."

The Lord is called by many names by many people heeding
his love and mercy, grace and strength, his openness to pleading.
We call him Prince and King and God, Good Shepherd and The Lamb.
He called Himself Jehovah in the ears of Abraham. 
I will not cease to call upon his name forevermore . . . 
and hope someday to name him 'friend' when I come to His door. 

Limerick

In fifty years cars will all cease
disturbing our air and our peace.
And no one will fuss
with trains or with bus;
we'll stick in our homes, too obese!

Duty

Alma 4:3 --    "And so great were their afflictions that every soul had cause to mourn; and they believed that it was the judgments of God sent upon them because of their wickedness and their abominations; therefore they were awakened to a remembrance of their duty."

My sense of duty, tarnished by the years so speeding by,

left me unprepared for when catastrophe came nigh.

I suffered more than I thought just; I could not find the hope

of ever climbing up from sorrow on this greasy slope.

When duty woke at last from slumber deep inside my breast,

I kept on slogging up the hill and trusted God knew best.

The journey isn't over and affliction still stands near,

but duty keeps me going with more confidence, less fear.  

Tattoo

Alma 3:18 --   "Now the Amlicites knew not that they were fulfilling the words of God when they began to mark themselves in their foreheads; nevertheless they had come out in open rebellion against God; therefore it was expedient that the curse should fall upon them."

I wonder at the piercings and tattoos of ev'ry kid

branding their own bodies in a kind of desp'rate bid

to show their independence or their macho or their . . . what?

They might as well be dabbing their own foreheads with some smut.

Why should I want to dye my skin all purple, red, or green?

The only needles that I want are strictly for vaccine!

Limerick

From the Los Angeles Times:  With black hoods over their heads, five people trapped in a chain-link enclosure listen to an ominous monologue.

"Hello, my delicious friends," the voice purrs. "I've lived here for five years, and I've spent much of that time collecting delicate morsels like yourselves to help me with my little experiments."

Edward Tandy, the homicidal cannibal who has caged this group in his basement, lays out the rules of his game: They have 45 minutes to solve the puzzles inside and escape. Once time runs out, gas will be pumped in, putting the captives to sleep.

It sounds like the beginning of a horror flick, but these five brave souls have paid $30 each to get locked in an escape room, a fast-growing entertainment where players in elaborately decorated prisons must find clues to free themselves before time runs out. Corporations have discovered escape rooms for team-building and communication exercises.

A fool and his money soon part;

but that is just merely the start.

It seems nowadays 

there's too many ways

to waste all our coin a la carte. 

A heap of bones

Alma 2:38 -- " . . . and their bones have been found, and have been heaped up on the earth."

A heap of bones is all that's left when conflicts end at last;
a brittle monument of follies dreadfully amassed.
The widow and the orphan and the breast of reason torn;
such are the sure harvest of our hatred and our scorn. 
To battle one another unless for our self-defense
is to be a stench and a rude rock of deep offense. 
O, help me bring a little peace into this mortal broil;
I do not want my garments with cross blood to ever soil!  

Wonderful Contentions

Alma 2:5 --  " . . .  having much dispute and wonderful contentions one with another."

When bodies meet together to consider future routes
for their own salvation there are often many doubts.
How easier to let a king or tyrant lead the way,
to cede to them the power to control us day-by-day.
Then we can sit in stupor, never pondering a thing,
or feed our lust for power in brown-nosing thug or king.
The tyrant of all tyrants is the devil, who decrees
how to think and act with calculating expertise.
But God would have us struggle with our conduct and with rules.
And for his Son the Savior we may stumble and be fools.  

Limerick

There once was a banker who craved
charging all those who had saved
funds in his bank
with int'rest so rank
that decency had to be waived. 

When Revolution Comes from God

"This is a message of life and love that strikes squarely against all stifling traditions based on race, language, economic or political standing, educational rank, or cultural background . . . "  Howard W. Hunter.


When revolution comes from God it does not spread bloodshed,
but quietly and joyously old doctrines it will shred.
Scales from eyes and chains from hearts are cast aside at last,
and slaves and masters, rich and poor, will look beyond their past.
The tyrants of the mind and icons of our culture wars
are seen as nothing more than dupes and tantalizing bores.
In fellowship our hearts expand as to gods we may mature,
leaving off our prattling and love of things obscure.
Yes, I declare a mutiny against my sin and vice
that keep me from the light and love of Christ's own sacrifice.

Limerick

The age of the video binge

is making me bitterly cringe;

this fetish to screen

is moral gangrene -- 

and grates like a rusty old hinge.

Limerick

 When voters will not lean your way

a new party name you display.

But it should be clear

unless it's "Free Beer",

the new tag is just a toupee. 

I intend to outwit Death

 I intend to outwit Death, no matter what the stats;

what care I for healthcare or location or trans-fats?

When that rascal calls for me I'll not be home at all,

but shall instead be browsing at the largest shopping mall.

If he can find me in the crush and press of bargain chasers

he can have me fair & square -- that king of dull erasers. 

The Kaleidoscope

Mosiah 29:11 -- " . . . and we will newly arrange the affairs of this people . . . "

Each day I live again, reborn, and newly managed, too;
my affairs can change as fast as any burning coup.
The mundane tasks and dull concerns that weigh my spirit down
are scattered far and wide beneath my Savior's tender crown.
Perhaps I'm treading water to the undiscerning eye;
 but I will turn kaleidoscope in wonder by and by!  

Limerick

When Adam was placed in the Garden

of Eden his heart he did harden

and ate of the fruit

that made him unsuit-

able for any kind of Green pardon. 

I hated someone once

Mosiah 28:2 -- " . . . that perhaps they might cure them of their hatred . . . "

I hated someone once, someone close enough to rip
the tendons of my soul and make my eyelids drip.
Betrayed and left alone, I vowed to keep awake
such bitterness as would preserve my deepest ache.
Yet slowly as the poison spread throughout my frame
I saw its only purpose was to cripple and to maim.
At last the Great Physician in humility I pressed
to cure me of this malady that left me so distressed.
He ever listens close to those who plead in trust;
and thus the venom drained away and turned to harmless dust.
Now my heart is on the mend and my spirit leaps amain
as I walk more fearlessly in this ardent world of pain. 

The Tarzan Zerbini Shrine Circus

We were six in clown alley on the Tarzan Zerbini Shrine Circus many years ago.

This was durng my 7-year hiatus from Ringling Brothers, after getting into a fight with the World's Smallest Man, Michu -- but that story will have to await another time.

Half way through the season we were down to two clowns; the rest had succumbed to the rigors of two shows a day in primitive rodeo grounds where the dust was thick and the audiences were thin. Our juggling and magician clowns were gone; so was the producing clown, who had supplied all the clown props for our gags. There was just me and Victor – who doubled as the Human Cannon Ball.

The boss still expected a grand clown gag with plenty of boffos from the two of us, so we put our bewigged heads together and came up with a weird pastiche that used every remaining piece of equipment we had between us. It went like this . . .

We come out lugging a large wicker laundry basket, full of dirty clothes. In the center of the ring is a huge washing machine (hammered hastily together out of plywood scraps and painted an unconvincing white). We begin tossing the laundry into the machine and set the dials. Working several concealed foot pedals at the base of the machine, I am doused with water and suds from the sides of the washing machine. In a passion I start beating on the washer, and Victor helpfully boosts me up so I can peer inside the rebellious contraption. And then Victor casually pushes me inside the washer. Inside we had placed a propane canister rigged up to some pipes along the top of the washer. I turn on the gas, light it, and WHOOSH, the washer is suddenly aflame! About here all logic and sanity disappears, cheerfully subsumed by the clown mandate that the bigger the disaster the bigger the laugh. While the flames roar I put on horns, a red cape and a long red tail. Then I turn off the gas and unlatch the sides of the washer, which collapse outward. The whole thing ends with me, now inexplicably changed into a leering devil, chasing Victor out of the ring with a plastic pitchfork.

For reasons that still elude me to this day, the gag went over big with the circus crowds. Even the boss, a hard-bitten veteran of the tanbark and not given to praising his joeys, came right out and said he thought it was a pretty good gag.

When the show reached eastern Wyoming my wife Amy brought our (then) six kids to see daddy at his job. I never traveled with my family, preferring to send my paycheck home each week. Clowns always got free room and board, such as it was. Mine was the back of a concessions truck; I smelled of cotton candy for 2 years after leaving the show.

After the matinee I was eager to find out what my children thought of their old man’s comic ability. But when I approached them, still in my clown regalia, their eyes started out of their heads in terror as they ran squealing to their mother, pleading with her to save them from the “daddy devil!”

It was only after I removed my makeup and took them out to McDonald’s for all the Happy Meals they could handle that they warmed up to me again.

For years afterward whenever I needed to lower the boom on their youthful mischief all I had to do was casually mention that I was going to do a load of laundry –they would immediately stop whatever they were doing and start towing the line again.

I wonder what Dr. Spock would think about that?

The Masters

When watching the Masters from greens,
whether in tux or in jeans,
beware of chair sharks,
glide like Groucho Marx,
and know where to find the latrines.

Poets are . . .

Poets are liars and scoundrels and drunks;
grandmas with doilies inside cedar trunks.
Truck drivers brooding on Route 51;
unwary schmendricks who think it is fun.
Waitresses hoping their tips will increase;
mechanics all covered in Bardahl and grease.
Anyone dreaming without sharp deadlines.
And especially those who wrote Burma Shave signs.

The trouble with drinking LaCroix

From the Wall Street Journal:

Most LaCroix drinkers are women—as is the case with diet sodas—but men are discovering the brand, too. Orlando, Fla., resident and former Diet Pepsi drinker Kevin Glennon dedicates much of his fridge space to LaCroix, which he calls “soda’’ for water drinkers.

“There’s no guilt for a guy like me. I can pound five or six of these a night,’’ said the 37-year-old TV ad agency employee, an avid weightlifter and runner.

The trouble with drinking LaCroix
begins when the bubbles do cloy;
after 8 or 9 cans
you have to change plans,
and bedpans discreetly employ.

Limerick for Trillin

When Trillin lampoons the array
of Chinese cuisine, some do say
he's being offensive --
and so they are pensive
(and might serve him up curare . . . )

8 Hacks on What to Do With a Black Hole

Our motto here at Hikingware.com is "Prepare for the 'IF' in Life."

In the spirit of that philosophy (and with tongue in cheek) we take great pride in presenting our Resident Expert on Just About Everything  to explain what to do about those pesky black holes . . . 

Things are going along pretty nicely when suddenly you wake up one morning to find a Black Hole in your backyard. There’s no need to panic or call 911; this is a common, everyday occurrence around the world. People have been dealing with Black Holes in their back yards for many years without turning so much as a hair, and you can too. Now if it was a Black Hole in your FRONT yard that would be a true catastrophe. But, as we say, most Black Holes pop up overnight in the backyard, and here are 8 tips on what to do with them.

1. No more recycling worries! Just toss everything you don’t want or need any more into your convenient Black Hole. We do suggest you put a fence around it, to keep anything (or anyone) from falling into it by “accident”. Ha. Ha.
2. Troll for Captain Janeway. She’s still in there somewhere, despite the Hollywood happy ending they tried to fob off on us! Rig up some 20 lbs. fishing line and bait it with a thermos of strong black coffee –she always did like her java that way!
3. Nasturtiums do very well as a border for Black Holes. You won’t need to water them; your Black Hole will manage to pull down plenty of rain clouds as they try to pass overhead.
4. Since Black Holes generate an inconceivable amount of energy, you can jury rig a power outlet that will run every electric appliance in your home. Just invite some of the boys from the Large Hadron Collider over in Switzerland to stop by for a barbeque and ask them to hook it up for you – they’ll be glad to oblige after they’ve had a couple of beers.
5. The Event Horizon is a good place to build a gazebo. The view is amazing. And you won’t be bothered by mosquitos.
6. While Black Holes themselves are completely noiseless, some of the items they suck in may make quite a racket – such as airplanes, utility lines, nervous people, or buildings. To muffle any unpleasant sound we suggest you replace the nasturtiums with a hawthorn hedge.
7. Occasionally something from another dimension may force its way out of your Black Hole and want to hang around the neighborhood. Most of these disgusting things are not malignant, just curious. It’s best to have a very large shop vac on hand, so you can clean them up as they enter our world; most landfills will take them off your hands for an additional fee.
8. Black Holes do have a tendency to meander. This means that your Black Hole may wind up in the neighbor’s yard, or even out in the street where it might disrupt traffic. If your Black Hole wants to wander you can keep it in place by offering it sacrifices while dressed in a grass skirt with your face painted deep purple. Just bow down before it, chanting “Bugawuga mufu, O mighty one!” and throw chicken gizzards into it. It’ll settle right down and become like a member of your own family in no time.

Limerick: Weddings

The price of a wedding indeed
is no matter of chicken feed.
Without any frills,
you're still paying bills
long after divorce is decreed.

Cooler and Warmer (Limerick)

Rhode Island has tried a new tack
to get some publicity back;
Raimondo intended
a motto so splendid -- 
but now she's an amnesiac. 

The devil uses flattery

Mosiah 26:6 -- "For it came to pass that they did deceive many with their flattering words, who were in the church, and did cause them to commit many sins . . . "


The devil uses flattery
to build up our iniquity.
He makes us think we are hot stuff
with words that are but empty fluff.
So when you're told you are a jerk,
remember -- it just may be God's work . . .

If the Cat in the Hat wore pompoms . . .

From the Wall Street Journal:  "Mrs. Bignelli, as it turns out, was an earlier adopter. Since her nuptials, pompoms have spun from kiddie playrooms and fashion runways to wedding aisles and just about everywhere else. This season, they can be found bobbing about the straps of shoes, clinging to curtain edges and bunched on sweater fronts. Housewares stores are selling pompom trivets.

The look, says Neiman Marcus fashion director Ken Downing, is “kind of groovy granny.” The pompom, he declares, “has become a folkloric flourish.”

If the Cat in the Hat wore pompoms, just where in the heck would we be?

And suppose Leonardo da Vinci had painted his Mona with three?

Did Washington crossing the Delaware have them upon his coat sleeves?

Or what if that wonderful Wodehouse had written them in for poor Jeeves?

The pompom was meant for small children, for toys that are stuffed and all pink;

adults who mess with them are loony, and soon in depravity sink.

If you date a woman with pompoms (I don't mean her physical heft)

she'll shatter your heart in a minute and leave you completely bereft!