
Beware of snakes
selling snake oil,
especially
if you
frequent
the same dens.

Beware of snakes
selling snake oil,
especially
if you
frequent
the same dens.
You are the funnel circling the bathtub drain.
You gurgle incomprehensible complaints and accusations.
You suck vacuously at lavender scented air,
all the while choking back the bile of sewer sludge
that tickles your throat.
Your vortex pulls in stinky sock lint –
flushed out of hiding from between unsuspecting toes,
clumps of sloughed off hair and slimy scum.
Lots and lots of scum.
I watch and silently will the tub to drain faster
so as to leave as little residue as possible
once you are gone.
And for the umpteenth time, I wonder how it is
you ever got elected to office.

#WeekendCoffeeShare is graciously hosted by Diana at ParttimeMonsterBlog.com.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you I’m feeling conflicted this morning. When I take part in the “Weekend Coffee Share,” I literally sit down with my morning cup of coffee and share what’s on my mind. I don’t preplan a topic and I sometimes surprise myself with what comes out.
Today, my mind is on so many things, I don’t know which of them I want to write about. I want to be lighthearted and talk about the Super Bowl, and post photos of my dog, and tell you about my latest DIY home impairment project.
But… I’m also thinking about how the country in which I reside is imploding. The saying, “It’s like watching a train wreck,” comes to mind. The destruction happens almost as though in slow motion, car by car by car (or day by day), and even though it’s hard to watch, you just can’t seem to look away.
I’d love to unplug from the media and ignore all the politics. I’d love to try and remain apolitical. And I feel strangely guilty for being “inconsiderate” in “harping” on my “opinions.” For being a malcontent, when I imagine my readers here or my “friends” on Facebook would rather read something humorous or warm and fuzzy.
But I read something yesterday that basically said that ignoring the declining conditions in the world – ecological, economical, political, ethical — is a luxury that only the privileged in life can afford. Or think they can. Major paraphrasing there, but that’s what I got out of it.

Of course, once a (literal) train wreck starts, you can’t stop it, and maybe we shouldn’t look away. Maybe we need to witness it, look for our own culpability, be there to help pick up the pieces and offer aid in the aftermath.
The metaphorical train wreck can be stopped, and I think we have an obligation to do what we can, to witness what is happening, to look for our own culpabilities and be there to help. It’s not fun by any means. It doesn’t sit well with morning coffee and croissants. It may seem overwhelming.
Or it may all sound like hyperbole. Like Chicken Little running around fretting that the sky is falling. I would still suggest we not look away, because there’s that other fable about the boy who cried wolf. One day the wolf was really there, and no one saw it coming.
And so I leave you with a warm and fuzzy photo of my dog Chules and his anticipation of the Super Bowl, and the humorous suggestion that he is looking bummed because his toy football has been a victim of Deflategate. And I’m off to work on my DIY home impairment project and make the most of today.
There must be a fable somewhere about finding hope amidst the storm.


Sincere words of courage and wisdom
solicit resounding amens from the choir loft,
and hallelujahs that reverberate
through vacant pews and empty stares.
The familiar message inspires those
who came to sing along, and though
not having fallen on deaf ears, it nonetheless
does not reach the ears of its hoped-for audience.
A lackluster congregation adjourns
to the fellowship hall to await dispensation of
the promised coffee, cake and cookies.
But the coffee is cold, the cake is stale,
and the cookies have raisins
instead of chocolate chips.
And so it’s no wonder that,
after the uplifting words
heard by none save the choir,
the good folk in the fellowship hall
see no recourse other than a
coffee-splashing,
cookie-hurling, and
oh-so-ungodly
food fight.
Let the Congress say…
amen.

Couldn’t Resist