The Most Human of Years

2017 is wrapping up shortly

and I think it’s appropriate to

recognize it for what it truly was;

The Most Human of Years.

I believe 2017 was the most human

of years simply because it reflected

what is the most common and universal

trait of all humans, our capacity to

err.

2017 was filled with so many

Oops-a-daisies and whoops-a-doodles,

it’s amazing we made it to the end.

From baffling election results to even

more baffling election results; our all too

human flaws were showing.

I feel 2017 was a raw nerve, finally exposed,

and we were doing everything we could

to keep people from poking at it. Sometimes,

we didn’t do it right and wound up just making

a grand mess of things. Or just lied about it.  

2017 was filled with backtracking, corrections,

re-evaluations, tactical reversals, contrarian

explanations, and general outrages over the lack

of outrage.  The human year, was a jumble of

emotions and thoughts, all running around

like kids at recess, screaming and shouting.

If 2017 were to have an image to represent

it, I would have to choose a giant finger pointing

at, “the other guy”.  It would seem the most reasonable

since we attempted to deflect any mistakes onto,

“the other guy”, for the majority of the year.

It is my hope that 2018 is The Year We Learn

From Our Mistakes. I know that the pessimism of

2017 will mark the first part of 2018, as the old year

can leave quite a bruise. Yet I remain hopeful in the face

of our collective humanity that we’ll do better, be better,

and rise above our common frailties.

Here’s to a New Year and the human capacity

to find hope in the darkest of places, valor against

the most difficult challenges and recognize the

humanity in our humanness.

Dear Mr. Christmas

Dear Mr. Christmas,

I hope all is well with you and

your kind and

things are swell and

not heavy on your mind.

Things over here aren’t so great,

I don’t want to be a nag

or berate.

But we’re in a pickle and everything

is a drag.

I write to you once more,

to remind you of what you said before,

when the kids were sad and you were

late, those words you spoke to make

us elate.

You said, “Quit your bitching and

shut up! I’m doing my best here so lay

off. I’m just one guy, doing what I can.

I’m not sure why I give a damn.”

Is what you said.

Mr. Christmas, you’re the best.

Saying what we can’t.

Puffing up your chest.

Fighting like a fire ant.

Mr. Christmas, you’re so cool.

What would Jesus do?

Walking on water when it freezes?

Mr. Christmas does it too,

he calls it ice skating and

does it when he pleases.

But Mr. Christmas, all that you know,

I’m just here to remind you of the season,

and to ask of you, before you show,

to look beyond our heart’s treason,

and help us if you can.

Here’s a list we made,

we hope it helps you out,

because off the path we strayed,

and with all your clout,

we hope you can make our dream true:

To make the Holiday bright,

treat each other right,

put our dicks away,

fight for equal pay,

Stop our warring ways,

end persecuting gays,

save the poor,

show the fats cats the door,

from pollution you can save,

keep us from the grave.

Mr. Christmas, can’t you see,

how much we need your seasoned

company.

Mr. Christmas don’t delay,

you’ve only got a couple days.

Christmalcoholic

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.

Let’s put those snowballs back

in the freezer shall we.

No one wants to see them right

now.

It’s Christmas time and that means

we need to keep an eye on Santa to

make sure he doesn’t act inappropriately

while asking children to sit on his lap.

This is a horrifying concept to me.

Santa Claus, the iconic symbol of

Coca-Cola, can’t even be trusted.

I am just super glad he isn’t real,

imagine the sexual assault/harassment

accusations against Mr. Kringle?

Groping Claus isn’t probably invited

to your holiday party, or if he is, he’s

not allowed to have any eggnog or any

of the Rum cakes.

In fact, I don’t think any variation of

Old St. Nick should be allowed anywhere

near alcohol. Plus, I’ve never understood

the whole if you’re a good kid, this old

man will bring you presents while you sleep.

What’s wrong with us and our mythology?

That’s just damn creepy right?

Old man sneaks into your house and leaves

gifts because he’s been watching you to see

if you’re naughty or nice. Gah!

Maybe this whole war on Christmas is

right. Maybe the symbols of this season

should be less about pleasing an old white

man and more about being good to each other?

I don’t know, I’ve had too much eggnog and

there are elves coming on to me. They want it.

Look at how they’re dressed. All tiny clothes,

and you know, curled up shoes, striped stockings,

yeah.   They want what this Santa’s got.

Ho-Ho- damnit I spilled my eggnog all

down my Santa suit.

God Rest ye Merry Gentlemen,

Shhhh, shut up, shhh……

   

Perspective by the Slice

                “So I’ll have the cheese pizza,” said Gary to the young man at the register.

                “What size sir,” asked the young man.

                “Oh, ummmmmmm……. large,” said Gary.

                Eight Guys Pizza was bustling with activity and customers stood in bunches around the four small tables by the large front picture window.  They ate their various pizza slices in their own various ways. They were all in a hurry it seemed. No one these days seemed to have any time for a casual slice. They had to choke it down as fast as they could so they could get back to work, or get back to shopping or back online. They seemed like animals, nudging and grunting at each other. Gary didn’t like them, but he did like the pizza.

                “So that’s one large cheese pizza, nothing else? No other toppings? Just cheese,” asked the young man at the register.

                “That’s right, just cheese, to go,” said Gary.

                The young man shrugged and entered the order into the register and Gary gave him a credit card to swipe.  Gary waited for his receipt, rapping his fingers along the greasy, yellowed Formica counter top. It was scratched and worn in many places. Gary could see the names of lovers, pledging to be together forever in the counter top. “Jaime and Chico, 4-eva,” and “TDogg + MissThing”, scratched into the surface of the old counter top.  He snickered and wondered if indeed Jamie and Chico were still together.

                The young man handed Gary back his credit card and Gary stepped away from the small counter as the next person in line stepped up to place their order.  On Gary’s planet there was no pizza. On Gary’s planet there was none of the essential ingredients of pizza. They mostly survived on vitamin infused gel packets and a substance called melmel; which to Gary’s palette tasted like hot glue and paper. Earth’s pizza was Gary’s vacation and he certainly was glad to have it.  

                He could only get to Earth every few years when his intergalactic postal route brought him within the solar system.  A few things had changed since his last visit but overall Earth was still the same churning and bubbling cesspool the rest of the universe had written off as a lost cause. The universe’s inhabitants found nothing redeeming about Earth and were pretty much waiting for the inhabitants to kill each other and the planet off.

                Gary liked the pizza though. It was good everywhere on the planet and there was nothing else like it in the Milky Way. He felt bad that once the inhabitants of Earth destroyed each other that the marvels of Pizza would probably die with them.  However, being from another world and having seen the mysteries of space and the rise and fall of multiple planetary civilizations; Gary couldn’t really bring himself to care too much for the humanoid species on Earth. They were doomed and that was fine with Gary.  But he’d miss the pizza.

                 “Gary,” shouted the clerk, “your pizza is ready.”

Swinging at Snow

Looking for love is

like swinging a

sledgehammer at

falling snow.

Stumble bums and break hearts,

plead at the foot of some

romantic ideal, “The Woman”

with the bright eyes, easy smile

and carefree sexuality. Begging for a

shot at romantic love. 

“I brought my sledgehammer,”

the stumble bums and break hearts shout to

her. “Look, look, look, look, look,” they

say as they dip and bob for her eyes,

praying they fall up them.

Like looking for a cardinal

in a sea of blue jays,

looking for a porpoise

amid dolphins, looking for

hay in a stack of needles.

Love, without scandal,

judge-less, faultless, wherein

the only consequence is

happiness and a desire to mutually

suffer for someone else.

I’m swinging that sledgehammer,

hitting air, walls, beer bottles, sidewalks,

pedestrians, lampposts, cars, elephants

in the room, but missing the falling snow.