Six Word Saturday

Just Wait, Donald. Just You Wait.

Sorry. I know this sounds like a threat, but it’s not. It’s advice. Try to slow yer roll, willya? So far, everything you’ve done makes you seem moronic. I’d hate to think America would elect a moron (even though most people don’t vote, and most of those who do vote didn’t vote for you.)

At any rate, like I say, I know this sounds like an idle threat. But it’s not. And you’re no idol.

You’ll Get Yours. Wait. You’ll See.

Habeas

It’s like Death Row, but with
bedrails instead of bars and
windows where the walls
would be—windows that won’t
open, though, and muralized walls
designed to deliver a sense of
sea-spray or new-mown mornings.

One thing’s the same for both:
boredom, boredom, boredom.
About half the inmates hope to
get out alive; the balance are
resigned to only watch and wait,
some among the cinderblocks
some amid the buzzers, plastic
tubes, and sanitizers. Some
day soon, they all believe (and
rightly so, one must suppose)
all their trials will finally be over.

Six Word Saturday

Whew!! That Was A Close One!!

balsamic

I had considerable trouble sleeping last night, awoke in a really fuzzy state and—out of a misguided (and very temporary!) desire to show at least a modicum of reasonable cooperation with our alleged President—I nearly banned the vinegar from our pantry.

Fortunately, I came to my senses.  I hope he can do the same.  Soon.

——[|]——

Call Me Cate is delicious at: SHOW MY FACE

—————[|||]—————

Mock Trial

He sits and waits until the bailiff
says ‘All Rise’ and then, unrisen,
he exposes his inability. This,
his frozen status, is new,
not only to all the others
but also to himself. Everyone
rises. Everything in the room
shines. He does neither;
offers only a mute and
immobile testimony to
the passage of time,
the certain inevitability
that all things,
regardless of volition
or momentum, must finally
reach their end.

Everyone else, seeing him,
either frowns or scowls
as they rise, but he—
the only seated being
in the universe—smiles.

He Who Does Not Pay

He tells the lies
over and over; lies
like traitor or spy
or terrorist, like
closing the door
or fear and anger,
like hatred. As far
as he’s concerned,
neither side matters.
It’s all about him
or it doesn’t exist.
The innocents get
convicted daily and
the devils get to
call the shots, force
the simpletons to
pick up the tab.

Triopsy?

acecut-biopsy-needles

I saw a BUNCH of medical professional types yesterday and let them take 3 samples of my kidneys (does that make it a triopsy?). Of all the docs though, NONE is more important to me than My Beloved Dr Sandra Stanley, EdD, without whom I would have already wasted away to nothing ages ago.