The Wolf Sleeps Tonight

 

Service Wolves are extra tough,

wandering those cold north woods,

but the service part is rough,

being full of duty-shoulds,

and Belle can really get wiped out,

treating me like not-bright pup,

but you will not see her pout,

even when head won't stay up.

In this case best to let her sleep

(she was perturbed, yes, by the flash)

if my fingers I would keep

(no severed digits in the trash!).

She'll be fine again quite soon,

but now I need to give her room.

Here's a live performance from The Tokens, with The Lion Sleeps Tonight.

It should open in a new window.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is FAKE. Interesting, because the thing I was originally going to post was quite serious. It didn't seem 'me'; it felt, well, fake.

I'm really not a serious person, about my own life, or anything. So writing a serious post felt like being way out of my league.

But Barb and our friend Carol really liked it, and Barb tonight prevailed upon me not to abandon the thing.

So, if you're interested, click here and it'll open in a new link.

Sylvia will always wake for ice cream.

The War On Childhood

It's been a rough week. Our beloved fifteen-year-old Boxer Shelby died, I had a relapse of malaria (the ringing in my ears makes conversation almost impossible), and the cancer thing seems to steal more breath each day.

Still and all, I am lucky, for some things are far worse.

Do you remember stickball played

beneath white clouds and smiling sun?

Did you amble through a forest glade,

and do nothing just for fun?

Did Saturday once call to you

with sparkle-laughter in its eyes;

much to see and more to do,

and 'round each hill a new surprise?

But today all this has got to go,

innocence comes to a close.

Now childhood's activist sex-show

and we must kowtow to those 

who demand the world be rid

of what it means to be a kid.

"But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea."

Matthew 18:6

Music from Kenny Loggins, with House On Pooh Corner.

Sylvia understands this. She was denied a puppyhood. We found her abandoned in a summer field, six months old, with a dead puppy in her womb.

My First Music Video, And Cows

 

Do you think one might teach a cow,

so sweet-natured and serene,

to pull a harrow or a plow

or some other farm machine?

Do you think they have the strength

in their shoulders, with no lack,

to bear that burden at some length,

forth and back and forth and back?

Do you think they might enjoy

such trusted focused labour

to work direct in man's employ

and thus return the favour

by which their virtues are made clear

by their Chinese Zodiacal year.

And here's a 'special' treat!

I don't do current photographs, for a number of reasons, but Barb and I put together a Facebook avatar that is accurate to the extreme.

So if you want to know what I look like, click here.

It should open in a new tab.

And, also on Facebook, here's my first music video!

This should also open in a new tab. I hope.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is DOUBT.

When doubt invades my hasty heart,

and I know not if I'll be healed,

I find I must become a part

of that which Scripture has revealed,

for God gave up His only Son,

soul of soul and breath of breath

to become the only one

who could redeem us by His death.

And we are thus constrained to walk

the Via Dolorosa road,

to do far more than talk the talk, 

but bend beneath the load

that may be fatally required

that others are by faith inspired.

Less than five minutes. OK.

Very ill as I write this. Fever and chills. Syl is watching over me, pleased not to have to share her ice cream.

 

Taco Belle

 

Belle does love a good taco;

in fact, she finds them great,

and since she is muy flaco,

she don't worry 'bout her weight.

But she thinks God had the dumbs

when He did not address

a dog's need for opposable thumbs

so's not to make a mess,

but that does not deter the beast

from chowing right on down,

and she will not in the least

wear a worried frown,

for she is, yeah, one smart pup,

keeps me around for cleaning up.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is RECEIVE. Oh, goody.

The taco that Belle has received

has stirred up envy in the pack,

and there's no way she can deceive

them of their quite obvious lack

of a tasty Latin treat

that is the grace of foodie graces,

so she just sat down to eat

it right before their doggy faces.

Not as dumb as it may seem,

for she is a wolf, you see,

and no canine would ever dream

of giving her the heartfelt glee

of making a food-stealing try,

for that's a nasty way to die.

A bit less than three minutes, there. Makes me feel like the Michael Jordan of sonnetry.

But it's not completely accurate. The Chihuahuas can steal her blind, and she just looks mildly on.

Barb found this video on Facebook. It's appropriate.

Sylvia would like some vanilla ice cream flavoured tacos, please.

 

Black Sheep Clouds

The mystery...why would young Japanese men choose to crash aeroplanes and manned torpedoes into American ships at the end of a war that was so clearly lost?

Was it hatred, or blind fanaticism? With a surfeit of online information, we can make these assumptions. We can condescend.

But was it something else, perhaps?

A love for what had to be defended at all costs, family and home and land, informed only by culture and tradition and a tightly controlled press?

Your conclusions are your own, but I would strongly recommend M G. Sheftall's "Blossoms In The Wind: Human Legacies Of The Kamikaze".

 Is Yasukuni meeting-place

when it's cherry blossom time,

imbued with stern and fearful grace,

impervious to Western rhyme?

What could have led the bright young boys

to embrace their fatal choice,

abandonment of future joys,

silencing the freshest voice?

Were they dupes, deluded

by what elders placed in the mind,

or were their dreams precluded

by love for those they left behind?

Will God ask why they chose to die,

while wiping tear from holy Eye?

Music from Ed Ames, with Who Will Answer .

Sylvia has no answers, and neither do I. Ice cream is best.

 

Resolutions

 

We start out fresh with resolutions,

most destined to fail, I fear,

in attempt to find solutions

that will tame the coming year.

When rolls around the Super Bowl

the leather Bible gathers dust,

and exercise machine pays toll

of neglect in growing rust.

Perhaps we plan too far ahead,

and cannot keep the ball in play

for so long, and should instead

resolve that just for this one day

we'll do our best to see them through,

all that we promised to do.

I have but one resolution, and that's to singlehandedly create a supply-chain crisis of Keystone Light beer.

Oh, wait. Maybe I shouldn't have admitted said that.

Kidding!

I actually prefer Fosters ale.

Music from Chumbawamba, with the irrepressible song Tubthumping

Sylvia loves beer, as long as someone else is drinking it.

 

All I Want For Christmas

 A lovely sunrise, and two weather balloons being launched from a nearby aerodrome.

 

I have simple tastes, and I am certain that Barb will gracefully fulfill my Christmas request.

What I want for Christmas

ain't for Tom, Dick or Harry.

I am saying this because

I want a four-wheel-drive Ferrari,

a bright red Magnum 308

on big tyres and eigh-inch lifts;

doesn't that sound super great

'mongst the redneck Christmas gifts?

Longhorns mounted on the hood,

rifle rack behind the seats,

lookin' fine and lookin' good,

and ain't nothin' else that beats

cruising down Miracle Mile

in chest-thumpin' Bubba style.

Here's my favourite Christmas song, from the Goo Goo Dolls... Better Days.

Sylvia says whatever vehicle is fine, as long as we end up at McDonald's for ice cream.