What would you change about modern society?
These times are marked by rapid technological advancement and globalization.
A rise in secularism and a focus on the individual, rather than the nation.
My recommendation to bring a change to modern society.
Let us count our blessings and become purveyors of propriety.
What are your future travel plans?
I’d like to visit Antarctica ‘cuz I hear the place is cool.
Then it’s off to visit Africa, home of the world’s largest gene pool.
I’d visit Mawsynram, India, which gets the greatest amount of rainfall.
Off to Atacama Desert in northern Chile, that receives no rain at all.
After all of this travel I am famished and I need a bit of a break.
To The City of Brotherly Love, for the world’s best Philly Cheesesteak!
Comes to mind is my favorite dish, a true epicurean delight.
Not ingredients merely thrown together, the process makes it right.
The journey begins at the butcher shop, in search of a choice pork butt.
After perusing what’s in the display case, I choose the most, bestest cut.
Then off to the Eastern Market, in search of spices bold and fresh.
I manage to gather together what makes my dry rub, simply the best.
I return home laden with the treasure of my arduous trek.
Taking a moment, I pause for a bit, on my day I do reflect.
During this respite I am reminded, why I chose to prepare this dish.
It’s for those who most deeply know me, I know it’s their deepest wish.
The dry rub is on the pork butt, into the refrigerator it goes, for the night.
The process of slow cooking meat, begins hours before day’s first light.
Two hours before sun up, while all the others toss, turn, and continue to sleep.
The pit master is up caring for the coals, as though a Sheppard after his sheep.
Coals for the cooking, coals for the smoke, each require a subtle touch.
If one is not careful in tending them, either of the coals can become too much.
So it is, with great care, the pork is introduced to the environ of this cooker of low-heat.
The pit master is a true maven of techniques proven to turn pork shoulders into tender, melty meat.
The next several hours unfold, as though choreographed, well in advance.
It’s the work of a skilled pit master, moving with purpose, nothing left to chance.
And so the skilled movement continues and slowly draws to an end.
The pork shoulder now is tender and fit to present to a friend.
The pork is pulled, the slaw is dressed, the sauce is rendered sublime.
The lemonade is poured, the corn bread is cut, now come and let us dine.
There once was a Moose from Bozeman.
Applied to the volunteer fire brigade, they chose him.
He can’t climb a latter.
Oh, that’s no lofty matter.
He’s the #2 hose-man.
Which activities make you lose track of time?
There are many things that I like, for which I take great care.
One activity that heightens my interest is pocket-watch repair.
The crown, knurled and knob-like is more than a pretty thing.
He sets the time, moving the hands, and winds the mainspring.
The mainspring stores the energy that drives the precision gear train.
The balance wheel oscillates, defining time intervals, as though the watch’s brain.
For me the work is subliminal, yet the watch commits a crime.
Though I give freely, that watch robs me of my time.
Our Irish Setter prefers marinara on rotini,
With sautéed yellow squash and zucchini.
Our Persian cat, on the other hand,
is finicky and will demand,
There be Alfredo on the Fettuccine!
I went to the city council meeting, they had one just the other day.
I was fired up, I was all about it, I had me something to say.
“Mr. Council President, to manage traffic there’s more than one approach.
But the way we do it now, was used for horse and coach.”
“Seems the lights at a certain intersection are causing great delay.”
Said he, “Mr. Citizen, we’ll handle this directly,
in a most roundabout way.”
To an Army Colonel who had lost his son in a tragic accident.
You have seen other soldiers called home,
And knocked on their family’s doors.
However, this time it is so much different,
Because the one called home is yours.
Remember how you consoled others,
You told them, “Your son was a good man.”
If anything can cure the wound in your heart,
The memories of your own son can.
Those memories of him are a salve,
They can sooth every aching part.
The love you have for your son,
Will heal the wound you have in your heart.
List 10 things you know to be absolutely certain.
When it comes to certainty, I find myself ambivalent on many topics.
However I am certain the temperate zone is located above the tropics.
When it comes to marine life, my knowledge begins to pale.
However I am certain a guppy is much smaller than a whale.
When I consider the earth’s density, from pole to pole,
I am quite certain it is much less dense than a black hole.
Regarding the intellect of the average, American sixth grader,
It may surpass that of many a celebrity, but not that of Darth Vader.
Should a regional power outage leave New Jersey void of light or spark,
I am unequivocally certain Bruce Springsteen would be dancing in the dark
If a text message says, “Respond to receive a beard trimming and a free jar of jam.”
Most certainly, I am sure, that it is a bald faced scam.
Given the prospect of a road trip with destinations of various variety,
I know for sure the EV car operator will suffer from range anxiety.
Should a restauranteur open a place on the dark side of the moon,
The menu might be great, but without atmosphere, he’d be outta business soon.
When it comes to sporting venues, I know with all my soul,
No matter where I sit in Warsaw, I’ll always sit behind a Pole.
Now this I know for sure, without the slightest doubt,
Three called strikes and the umpire calls the batter out!
Now there you have it, the things of which I’m most certain.
Come back tomorrow, to see the man behind the curtain.
I can get along with most people, I can appreciate just about all things.
What bothers me most are birds that don’t fly even though they have wings.
They strut around scratching and pecking the soil, ignoring you as they eat.
They will turn and charge at you, their disposition changes in a heart beat.
The bane of my existence Ostriches, emus, kiwis and penguins too.
I can’t tolerate them. Do they ever bother you?
The Ethereal Scupper 