Who will play with me?
Solitaire is played alone
I find that boring
Who will play with me?
Solitaire is played alone
I find that boring
An old computer
An apple with just one bite
Eden’s garden crashed
Neighbors cutting grass
Riding their mowers around
seeking checkered flag
This morning, because it was such a beautiful day; I decided to take my coffee to my garage and look East to the Mississippi river which is less than a mile away.
Bald eagles Flying High
Eagles find updrafts
above the Mississippi
A true bird’s eye view
Seems I was wrong. Mama racoon already had her babies (kits). She was just checking things out before making a debut with her three kits. In another week or so she will take to the trees with her family. this will keep them safe from hungry coyotes and foxes.
Picture is a little blurred as I am not able to focus with my low vision. But I think you can see the whole family.
This racoon has been living under my deck for a couple of weeks. Seems to be getting bolder and is quite used to our comings and goings. She’ll probably give birth soon an then move-on with her brood as soon as they are big enough.
can be sung to the tune of a traditional Scottish folk song about restoring a king during Jacobean times.
Con Donnie lies over the ocean
He lies wherever he goes
He lies about his friendships
With people that we call our foes
(Chorus repeats after each verse.)
Don’t lie oh don’t lie, Con Donnie don’t lie to me, to me
Don’t lie oh don’t lie, Con Donnie don’t lie to me.
His Pinocchio nose gets longer
Each time that he starts to speak
His lips, when he tells a new whopper
Take on the shape of a beak
He eats cans of worms for his breakfast
He gobbles down bowls of untruth
He shuns accountability
He’s done it since he was a youth.
His lies are all propaganda
His base sucks-up it all
Mostly he lies about building
A thing that he calls a wall
He told us that Mexico would pay for
construction down on the line
He’s Feeding his vanity and ego
With dough that was once yours and mine
It lies each time that he opens
The hole in his face that’s a mouth
Claims he’s making America great again
When in fact it’s all going south
He lies when he speaks without knowing
That what he just said is untrue
His fantasy thoughts are his reality
Which he fishes from out of the blue
Short on facts has become his trademark
Alternative ones are his choice
And all of those who surround him
Repeat his lies with one voice.
The con claims the art of the deal
But that’s a myth to make him sound tough
His art is to play the big bully
But to leave when the going gets rough
What a con, what a con is our Donnie
Snake oil is what he likes to sell
Mendacious claims come daily
The only words that he can tell
He lies about the lies that he’s uttered
Says things like “I never said that”
Seems he pulls most of his lies
From out of his MAGA red hat.
He cheats when he out on the golf course
Claims championships that he’s won
Truth is he was out there playing
All alone by himself in the sun
He claims he’s a vibrant young man
But he’s unable to see the jokes
Everyone knows that he’s a dotard*
As usual he claims it’s a hoax.
Bill Barr is his new legal beagle
who pooped on the Rose Garden lawn
Covering up misdeeds and wrongdoings
The AG is Con Donnie’s pawn
2020 elections are coming
Will it be a happy farewell?
Will it be lights-out for con Donnie?
And our country saved by the bell.
* Dotard: The Urban Dictionary defines dotard as follows:
A cross species between an Orangutan and an Oompa Loompa. The Dotard is usually bred in captivity by wealthy families that wish to pass on their inheritance without having to raise an actual human. There are many similarities to a human, but you can usually tell the difference by their unique orange skin and hair.
Yaffles and Magpies
Words from long ago now heard
with fond memories
Eating Jaffa cakes
Small bliss before my bedtime
taken with Merlot
As you probably saw on Facebook, my veteran’s badge arrived today. So this is a thank you email for your effort to apply for and send this to me.
Now of course I have to ask; does this mean that people will start helping me across the road, or perhaps a free ice-cream on a hot summer’s day or perhaps a seat on the bus? Or better yet, DICOUNTS! Ah what fun it is to be a veteran. Makes me feel at least 10 years older.
There must be hundreds of thousands of veterans wandering the streets of Britain. I wonder if it would have been cheaper to give everyone who is not a veteran a badge.
So after all my cynicism, still a big thank you. I shall wear it proudly and tell everyone who asks me what the badge you are wearing is for; I shall tell them stories of El Alamein and bombing raids in the Ruhr Valley in Germany. Not that I was ever there of course, but it should be worth a pint or two – one way or another.
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