Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

The clearest description I have managed so far about my blog is that it is not about cats. In general, I find predators pretty predictable while prey on the other-hand, because they live in universes of anxiety, develop more textured personalities. I also have as a writer a deft hand when it comes to making matters worse, so of course , the already panicky are ready made for me. I will try to grow this blog into an assortment of laughs, because that is what my life has mostly taught me to do. I will use the famous people I have known to get your attention and then tell you small but many times wonderful things about them. I will never name the ones I say ugly things about but I hope you will guess who they are.

Category: Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

Poem: If You Can’t Watch

Every death,

comes with its particular novelty.

While birth plods into life

with a sloppy inaccuracy,

tumbling incoherently through

a thick sticky afterbirth,

while shackled to incomprehension.

Still, we guess birth to be miraculous

while it’s endgame, death

is reviewed as a misfortune,

accompanied by a chorus of “if only ”

and the tardy howls of regret.

But of what good is the marvelous,

if you can’t, watch?

PUBLISHED: June 2, 2017
FILED UNDER: Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

The Great U.S. Sensitivity Race

Well, a new American foot race is on over which of us is more sympathetic over a tragedy. At the first turn, white liberals are three lengths ahead of the black people who suffer in real-time. Corporations, stylishly slow out of the gate, are lathered and gaining with just finished TV commercials. The Republicans are frozen still waiting for the gun to go off at the starting line and the Democrats are all dressed up and drinking wishing that everyone loses.

How does God Dress?

Republicans fear their Gods but generally ignore them unless his likeness appears miraculously on a Walmart. Then they all go out to buy their last suits for a second “coming” until our media broadsides the party and makes them look like cattail eating morons.
Democrats see god in sexual activity, kind of like the Old Testament Romans. They instead worship movie stars whom they believe are real people. Most wait breathlessly for new holes in human beings to build popular sex cults around.

The bit of God that snuck home with me, after I died for a while in the hospital, is plonked in the corner of my bed arguing with my dog.
My name has not come up.

Hello! Who are you?

I am in the kind of mood where I might spend the day calling up a hundred or so of my “friends” on FaceBook, of whom I have no recollection, and breaking that to them uncomfortably.

Please hit me

Not hitting the “like” on a FaceBook post of mine is no different than passing over a blind beggar’s tin cup and smirking.

Blind and a Pig (I’m Told).

Pretty Monkeys

There is very little about us that is not sexual. After all, fucking is the only reason for us to be here. “Go forth and multiply ” was not God telling us to do math.

What separates us from the apes is our sexual costuming.

Granted, that is a big addition.

The Jolly Bigoted Hills of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 1950

Most everybody from Pittsburgh grew up on a hilltop.
Hills surround the city.
We were bigots and racists.
All of us had our peak, the results of the game of musical chairs that is continuously playing in America. Our timid arriving immigrant masses huddled on any vacant space they could find. Then they hard prayed the English language would become decipherable to them in time.

Our little ethnic villages stood like bearded goats on these elevations, each confident that their summit was closer to whatever they believed was God above them.
There were no hills for women, as they were scattered equally and none for gays and lesbians because they did not yet exist. Blacks somehow did not get any top land, so they got a middle ground and called it a “side.” Jews seemed to be hiding around the big University of Pittsburgh. They appeared to feel safer there. I hardly knew about Jews when I lived there in the fifties and sixties. But we knew all we needed because of jokes at their expense.
Mind you. We made fun of everyone except ourselves.
Class envy existed, but nobody had very much of that. We were all kind of a shitty shipment of lower classes, so fighting about so little would have just proven demoralizing and too obvious.
No, the best playing fields for prejudice lay in the more fertile areas of skin color and accent.
I grew up in a time when snobbishness was a greater offense than discrimination. Nowadays, conceits are confused with power, and bigotries punished like little homicides.

The geography of my youth helped me stumble into a critical ditch of reality in my life. It is that crowds are meaner than individuals. One person can reflect before they make a mistake, but a group cannot.  
Groups develop from the fear of friends.
There was no one to show this to me when I was a kid. Hurting someone weaker or different is reassuring to anybody frantic for acceptance.
You do not have to come from Pittsburgh to know that.

Teaching Rock Stars Math

Between shows, much of my time with The Who was spent reviewing each artist on their multiplication tables.

PUBLISHED: May 21, 2019

FILED UNDER: Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

Seven-inch heels and a pack of Camels

As of this very morning, I am officially a domestic fairy Goddess. I have discovered feather dusters that you throw away when they get dirty.
Now all I need is a maid’s outfit that goes with black mesh stockings, seven-inch heels, and a cane. OK, you can breathe again.

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