for all to see?
Now listen, son,
that just ain't me.
I'm not even sure where
my soul might be.
How old are my kids?
They're "Hey, Dad, we're going to Los Angeles for a week and we don't need your money or permission, but would you mind driving us to the airport?" years old.
My Coma List
To whom it may concern:
If for some reason I'm riding my motorcycle and I get smooshed by some dude in an F-150 listening to "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" by Kenny Chesney, and all the smooshing leaves me in a coma for the rest of my life, please don't turn on the television in my hospital room.
It's very possible that my mind inside the coma is fully intact just looking for a way to let you know, but if The Bachelorette is blaring on the tube, I'm going to hunker down in my trenches and wait until the shelling has stopped.
To entice me out of my vegetable soup, I hereby leave a Coma List of five things to do and not do:
1. Leave the TV off unless it's showing reruns of "Gilligan's Island," "Star Trek," or "Doctor Who" -- the new Doctor Whos, not from the 60s; I especially like the Matt Smith seasons with Martha Jones (Freema Agyeman) wearing her red leather jacket, oh yes!
2. I like all kinds of music, except for country and anything from the 70s or 80s. Barry Manilow's "Copa Cabana" is fine but only because it will force my crying wife out of the room. She hates it.
3. Most people believe in talking to a comatose person. I do, too. Talk to me all you won't, but please don't discuss the weather, politics, religion, any kind of procedure your Aunt Edna in El Paso is having, or football.
4. It's been a long time since I've been read to, but I think my coma mind would enjoy it. Poetry is good, but not the "what is he talking about?" kind. Graphic novels would be okay, but you have to use different voices for the characters. Dickens' "Tale of Two Cities" would be perfect. But please, no erotica -- I'm in a coma, for heaven's sake.
And finally,
5. If I'm not in a coma, the doctors are saying I'm just a breathing cucumber, but my eyes are open, I think a stripper would do me worlds of good; a classy Jessica Alba "Sin City" type would be great, but please no wrinkly Pamela Andersons.
If for some reason I'm riding my motorcycle and I get smooshed by some dude in an F-150 listening to "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" by Kenny Chesney, and all the smooshing leaves me in a coma for the rest of my life, please don't turn on the television in my hospital room.
It's very possible that my mind inside the coma is fully intact just looking for a way to let you know, but if The Bachelorette is blaring on the tube, I'm going to hunker down in my trenches and wait until the shelling has stopped.
To entice me out of my vegetable soup, I hereby leave a Coma List of five things to do and not do:
1. Leave the TV off unless it's showing reruns of "Gilligan's Island," "Star Trek," or "Doctor Who" -- the new Doctor Whos, not from the 60s; I especially like the Matt Smith seasons with Martha Jones (Freema Agyeman) wearing her red leather jacket, oh yes!
2. I like all kinds of music, except for country and anything from the 70s or 80s. Barry Manilow's "Copa Cabana" is fine but only because it will force my crying wife out of the room. She hates it.
3. Most people believe in talking to a comatose person. I do, too. Talk to me all you won't, but please don't discuss the weather, politics, religion, any kind of procedure your Aunt Edna in El Paso is having, or football.
4. It's been a long time since I've been read to, but I think my coma mind would enjoy it. Poetry is good, but not the "what is he talking about?" kind. Graphic novels would be okay, but you have to use different voices for the characters. Dickens' "Tale of Two Cities" would be perfect. But please, no erotica -- I'm in a coma, for heaven's sake.
And finally,
5. If I'm not in a coma, the doctors are saying I'm just a breathing cucumber, but my eyes are open, I think a stripper would do me worlds of good; a classy Jessica Alba "Sin City" type would be great, but please no wrinkly Pamela Andersons.
Sunlight
kinda bright
in my chair
think I might
sit on the porch
till sweet twilight
and drink a beer or two
before mosquitoes bite.
in my chair
think I might
sit on the porch
till sweet twilight
and drink a beer or two
before mosquitoes bite.
Our Founding Fathers...
gave us the constitutional right to bear muskets that took 15 seconds to reload and weren't all that accurate.
My old grandpa would say...
"If you really want to change the world, start by planting a garden then work your way up."
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