Wednesday, December 07, 2005


My new plan

I’m toying with an idea.
I’m toying with an idea for a new plan to bring peace and calm to the world.
I call it the “You annoy me, be gone,” plan.

Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking; this is just another re-costumed re-choreographed version of the old “Just kill everyone” plan. But, you’re wrong. It’s totally different. Blanche was right. If you kill everyone who will you invite to parties? And the guideline of “Not everyone everyone, just everyone who is no one,” is far to vague for efficient implementation. Minions may be able to handle grey areas of judgment, but lackeys sadly are not. So in this plan all decisions will be made by me directly with the assistance of a hundred-strong administrative staff. Offending persons such as neuvo-mysticalist pop divas, rabid delusional televangelists, producers of CIA snuff films, the people who developed natural organic Doritos, and a host of other such persons would all be snatched out of their beds in the night. Of course, a lovely note printed in an italic serif font on lavender stationary would be left assuring anyone who cared that it was all for the best. Now, here is where this plan is far more ‘humane” than my previous plan. In a critical difference between the “You annoy me, be gone,” plan and the “Just kill everyone” plan these people will not be killed. Instead in a grand gesture they will be escorted aboard luxuriously appointed spaceships picked up cheap after the Centauri Technodribble merger and redecorated by renowned designer Isaac Mizrahi. The ships will depart from an undisclosed location and proceed by means of robotic piloting system on a leisurely cruise toward the sun. The sun, you say. They’ll still die, you say. But wait, there is a manual override on the flight controls that becomes available about halfway to Venus and the navigation system will assist them in going anywhere they like... with the exception of back to Earth of course... I mean then all the effort and expense would be for naught. And, after all, God helps those who help themselves, right? I heard that from a televised press conference. It must be true.

Monday, December 05, 2005


Sunday afternoon scrawl

The wind freezes foxes
on a snow fondled green
big men pant fog
the blinking box
shows us the scene
yet we talk about mages
elves and their kin
for the striped one
to signal we can
come in.
Dances without dance floors
syncopated chess
and poison control
fielding advances and quips
exchanging glances
and bitch-slapping
those who transgress
the moment.
Snow flies outside
the whiskey in
oh, the happy futility
in the glow
of the bartender’s grin.

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