BY Davey H

05/01 Direct Link
Much-needed vitamin D
was absorbed through the skin
during that one brief revelry outside then in.

It would behoove the revelers
to wash off the salt spray.
This was a decided departure
from the chronically indoor foray,
which mostly involved eating, ancillary discussions and storytelling, infotainment absorption, and picture taking.
Memory flash cards were plucked from various digicams and plugged into the laptop for a silly show over dinner.

Davey had made strenuous tuning up efforts with said laptop, to modestly successful result.
Differences in display modes were noted between the two top competitors: Windows Media Center and Picasa.
05/02 Direct Link
Many things to do,
and if you wanted to,
you would.
But like Kenny Chesney crooned:
“but I didn’t.”
So far, no good.

Now, with trepidation,
you paste text into the box
in a brief spate of inspiration.

Funny how this stuff works;
you post your thoughts, likes, quirks.
But your restless mind, you’ll frequently find,
far from refined, it SHIRKS!

One needs periods of rapt attention
and concentration
in order to craft the simplest of documents,
say, terse emails or silly Facebook posts,
because those whose auditory canals
grab the slightest sounds,
periods of sequestration are a dire necessity.
05/03 Direct Link
Checking Wall Street
at the top of the hour,
let us not be discreet:
those blokes have the POWER!

But let this boy wax reticent;
with a loud “ahoy, ahem!”
For he declines to  envy the one percent,
and does NOT want to be like them!

A pundit once so wisely spoke
that if you watched CNBC
you would surely end up broke
if you followed it  to a 't'.

So what's the next guess
in this guessing game?
Some say OWS
all things being the same.
But it went R.I.P
in a dithering flame.

What was that price again?
05/04 Direct Link
Dump Is A Dump

To the Saturday Dump
and a glance at the statement;
it's a good thing we waited
thanks to an abatement,
the value inflated
on our modest place
'let us get out,' I stated
and thus saved our face.

Enough is enough!
Let's sh**-can this nonsense.
For it's this kind of stuff
that has made us so tense.

Now is a good time
to sing, dance and shout.
But keeping in mind
we're not falling behind
no donation in-kind
we do not want to wait
or to participate.
No, it's come time to cash this thing out!
05/05 Direct Link

Another day to jump with glee,
but wait a sec – what's this I see?
Flailin' my socks,
trundle out to mailbox,
one more mailer from DirecTV.
(Insert ANGRY-assed emoticon here)

This is what I would like to tell these shills:

“Listen up, loonies,
we're out in the boonies,
and wanted you morons to see;
that we have no television
– a conscious decision –
so please friggin' just let us be!”

Oh, this passion a fashion
you cannot ignore;
out Davey is lashin'
like often before.
Will those dull TV shills
start sending us bills
or notices tacked to our door?
05/06 Direct Link
Later, but not by much,
it was time to get back on the road
and get gluteus maximus back in touch
after once again dropping a load.
Then once again filling
although hardly willing
the old wagon's acutely flaccid
right rear tire,
then off to the town dump
before too much time did expire.

Raindrops falling,
yes, we know,
and to the ground come-a-calling
they soon go.
With no two raindrops shaped the same,
as it has been stated,
but not corroborated,
they all get me wet
and it is a safe bet
that no single one is to blame.
05/07 Direct Link

Here's to dear ShepNel
who is long since gone nil;
yes, she was all Shepherd,
yes, if you will.
The longest lived of all “our” Shepherds,
yes, ShepNel did live the longest;
and sitting still was for the birds,
dear ShepNel was the strongest!

We'll certainly never forget her.
She came as a rammy puppy,
seemingly bent on incessant play
– of course preferably with dogs matching her size and strength.

Then, my friend, you would sit back as a spectator and watch the canines rassle at length!

Bent curtain rods and scratched up carpet ensued.
05/08 Direct Link
Let's get on with it: we need to get paid here
having played here,
delayed here,
laid here,
grayed here
and stayed here.
Are we waylaid, dear?

Now spring, that thing
where we get out and fling
after indoor time spent
having paid the land rent
many an email was sent
too bad that dough was lent.

Now we ask ourselves:
“so, should we let that debt go?”
You can bet that the half-wit
to whom funds were lent
would sooner be half lit
and live in a tent.

But we let her off the hook
– and also our book.
05/09 Direct Link
Five / Nine / Fourteen:

Here today, by dawn tomorrow;
we shan’t bray or drown in sorrow.
For before tonight’s strong dozing,
today’s delights included CLOSING!

A surprisingly informal yet functional paper-pushing session notwithstanding, the day was definitely an adrenaline-laced sleigh ride.
We got the check and what the heck, the lawyer wasn’t snide.

Here, no fear, and with dog willing,
on up to the finish line
we had to leer at Jack M's shilling,
although he was doing just fine.

We ended up scrawling
on a whole bunch of papers;
made us feel like crawling,
oh, such legal capers!
05/10 Direct Link
We exited that place
and were just slightly grievin'
for although we saved face
we just barely broke even.

Davey had stayed up until midnight cleaning cobwebs, vacuuming and wreaking general mayhem on his multifaceted bodily appendages in a last-ditch fit of paranoia that, for the sake of conjecture, even though we had fully spit and polished the place, someone would come along later intent on pasting negative repercussions upon us.

Sometimes 'even' is a good way to break.
05/11 Direct Link

A Must-See for the Working Class

It is with effusive sprightliness that Davey H announces the presence of film director and protagonist Patrick Lovell's excellent documentary entitled, “Forward 13: Waking up the American Dream”.

It comprises 1.8 gigs, and is available on Amazon in SD or HD, $ 10.00 and $20.00 respectively as a download to be viewed in their virtually un-hackable ‘Unbox’ player. But since most of us are not equipped to make optimal use of HD format, SD will do just fine.

Thankfully, though Lovell lost his ass in the 2008 crash, his chutzpah could not be squelched.

05/12 Direct Link

Going further, to wax a bit more specific, the aforementioned Lovell became a consummate force to be reckoned with in his indomitable quest to shine a blazing, unblinking spotlight of scrutiny upon the abominable Banksters, Big Oil, Big Government and all ancillary spokes on the wheel of which that triad is comprised.

Davey H highly recommends picking up a copy of this fast-paced Hunter S. Thompson-esque travelogue replete with its inspiring stops to pick the brains of the fed-up, the disenfranchised, and the lost-ass-in-the-2008-crashers.

Moreover, his Everyman SuperPac offers this observable inspiration:

“The system is broken. Let’s fix it together.”

05/13 Direct Link

A Day In The Life Of Two Murphy’s Law Dupes

Being flustered more than slightly
we scramble, fumble and bask
whilst contemplating here each rightly
damn near finished task.

Each evening, though, to be quite frank,
we feel so venerated;
those catbirds and song sparrows to thank
with song we’re titillated!

They chirp us through each arduous chore
until the sun has expired;
their repertoire to not ignore,
in fact, we’re rather inspired!

One of these days we’ll finish the coop
as the work pace steadily quickens,
then scuttle to clean up all the poop
produced by those six chickens!

05/14 Direct Link

More Working Class Diatribes

If something isn’t fixed, of course
that means it’s friggin’ broken;
and so it is with little remorse
these fixin’ words are spoken.

Davey waxes supercilious
in proffering the following working class maxims:

What is needed right now is ‘Quick and Easy’.
Where’s the time for anything other than that?
Hark! How the robin’s song will please me!
Wait a sec – I dropped my hat.

The bird feeders were filled
as little birds trilled
then were sated with us befriended;
They peck at the seeds
as per their needs,
and would do so until winter ended.

05/15 Direct Link

The morning Joe: got the usual dash
of cinnamon, lo – hey, the flavor’s a SMASH!

Perhaps it was whilst going through recycled papers – which, as you may surmise, is one of any given country bumpkins’ many annoyingly perpetual and ongoing capers – that Davey H might have come across the following hard-hitting headlines:

This year, was it accurate?
Yes, dear, you better freakin’ bet.

Their fuel-gulping diesels
indeed own the road
and like f**in’ weasels
your mailbox they’ll goad
and bash and trash and wallop and gore
such a guffawing smash
as they laid down some more.

05/16 Direct Link


Tom, he was a frumpy guy
but was kind of neat;
when he confided on the sly
he’d won the Poet’s Seat.
Full well you know,
and it would seem,
to this wood they go
to let off steam.

It is a place atop a hill
the saving grace to hide from ill
and sit a while and brood or think
then flit, beguile your splotch of ink.

From a long-dead poet
it got its name,
and while he didn’t know it
he had fame
although like Emily Dickinson’s story
he never lived to see his glory.

05/17 Direct Link

The last time Davey embarked on one of those so-called 'vacations', he forgot to take his passwords along, hence no communications were possible with those whose access required passwords.
But that turned out okay; it was actually a big relief not being completely tied to an electronic device for the purpose of communicating. That meant time for being glued to said electronic device for other recreational pastimes and troubleshooting – a feature that presented itself in abundance.
He waxed a bit of a smartass and took self-pix of his pink-nosed Yankee mug while he posed next to a gaudy Boston Whaler.

05/18 Direct Link
This was a type of consumer-grade sporting boat Davey recalled from childhood, when, whilst ensconced at summer camp, he watched the brave and willing from among the camper and counselor constituency water ski behind such boats.

Time flew by as Davey would mutter
but he wouldn't try and still his cam shutter
so he took lots of pictures
and avoided strictures
while watching his senior folks putter.

Meanwhile, stack at the branch,
an attendant diligently worked,
obligations fulfilling,
at Don't Laugh It's Paid For Farm,
where the rooster still crowed free from harm,
with none to hear his fine trilling.

05/19 Direct Link

Davey checked the SPAM folder regularly, being regularly appalled at the volume of it.
Equally nauseating was the very nature of that unfortunately ubiquitous paradigm: everyday people sending unwanted trash every day to other everyday people who had to spend large blocks of otherwise productive time every day eliminating such detritus from their Inboxes.
The sheer quantities of time, effort, electricity and so-called 'talent' allotted to creating SPAM is in and of itself a testimonial to the wasteful side of human nature, and vast quantities of otherwise productive woman/man-hours are spent mindlessly performing erase, delete, repeat reflexive SPAM reducing actions.

05/20 Direct Link

Next, it was a Eureka! moment as Davey finally figured out how Tupak Shakur got his name.
Spinning his first name on its head, 'kaput' appears as if by magic. Perhaps Shakur had been prompted by a bit of prescience, as his kaput-ness indeed arrived later on the coattails of a bullet or two
This bit of trivia is not required for essential mental functioning in any regard, but instead included for dramatic effect.
It was one of those infiltrating trains of thought that percolate now and then, keeping one's mind off of their own ultimate decay, disease and death.

05/21 Direct Link

Then, once Davey realized he omitted the FIRST Shakur testicular shooting, without hooting, it was back to eliminating SPAM, which is unfortunately all too often, nay, shall we say nearly ALWAYS an essential first step in beginning either a sensless surfing session or moribund office-bound day, and a function which, like sleep or taking of nutriment, is performed without undue exercise of the tempers or complaining.

Let's keep in mind that this unwanted layer of redundant complexity has been a millstone, a pesky addendum to our already cluttered lives for almost 20 years now. So its seniority lends it privileges.

05/22 Direct Link

Back to being thrown to the dogs:

Take a right at poop spot #2,
lift left leg on the proper mailbox posts;
as this befits the likes of you,
while appalling your pauper hosts.
Here, oh dear, is, to the dogs,
the meaning so clear of words like “logs”.
Meaning, yes, no need be vexed:
those logs are not composed of text!
Moreover, more distinction is had
as we ponder what is meant by 'pad'.
So hasten those leg lifts, 1,2,3;
they are not for your abs
but rather to pee!

Thus concludes this compulsive installment
of canine chronicles.

05/23 Direct Link

You think that you could write a book?
If so, what would you feed it?
Check out the news and take a look
if your views would impede it.

Chide that fellow 'oer books he wrote,
but he's still mellow, that we note.
In the swing, as a boxing ring,
sans cerebral fettering.

Oh, he could pen a sad, sad song
what, it's only 100 words long?

Davey couldn't, his mind did flit;
he thought his book not worth a sh**.
Hanging on, 'twas so absurd;
banging, wan by the hundredth word.

And so he decided to hang it up.

05/24 Direct Link

Next up: a pervasive, mildly disturbing, near-total dearth of coaxal focus. This far too common occurrence should not in itself be particular cause for consternation, being, after all, a snippet from this vast pastiche of ever-changing circumstances.

Oh, Davey had seen books, articles and glossy magazines brimming with tips and tricks on how to hone one's ailing memory and nanosecond attention span, but he had rarely gotten one or two paragraphs into such text.
Thus, no benefit was derived.

Besides, once any given so-called knowledge was instilled into his marginally functional gray matter, it would become obsolete in short order.

05/25 Direct Link

As any reader – casual or otherwise – of 100 Words posts could surmise, Davey was one of the laggard non-hosts who seldom finished batches on time, possibly due to his silly propensity to attempt making everything rhyme.

Having a bevy of word processing tools at his disposal meant he, like any other electronically dependent typist, had little excuse for not completing writing projects in a timely manner.
Therefore, it had to be chalked up to mere laxity in concert with a dearth of meaningful cranial musings.

So what if today is actually June 1st?
Since nobody reads, it makes no difference.

05/26 Direct Link

Davey marveled at the greats, such as Ernest Hemingway, who had created such immensely popular 2 inch thick tomes by pecking them out on old mechanical typewriters.

Even if only assessed in just that respect, he put most modern writers – who are equipped with all manner of snazzy, easy to use word processing tablets, laptops and desktops – to severe shame.

Have you ever tried going back and typing on an old mechanical? Noisy as hell, isn’t it?

Well, if you did, you could surely hone finger and wrist muscles.

Oh, by the way – don’t forget to hit the return lever!

05/27 Direct Link

Some prep was done before this gig
and we had fun aboard this rig.
Miles were gulped and time was lost;
good thing we didn't lose exhaust.

Coming up the Interstate
Slow as hell, it wasn't great.
No GPS, our path not tracked,
full road, I guess, with cars 'twas packed!

The PA turnpike was a GAS;
we had to spike and let them pass.
Stopping for tea and rummage through bags,
have a look-see at all those tags.

Hi-ho, the dairy-o,
Some from Jo-juh, some from Ontario.
I’m not sayin’ where ours is from;
It might attract SPAM scum.

05/28 Direct Link

What if word problems shared some of the silliness of mathematical ones? Like, say, what if you were queried the following:
“add this verb, take away six,
sine and cosine just for kicks.
Subtract, abstract, as you laugh and hoot
but don't forget that you're the square root.”

Davey was, to nobody’s surprise, a math flunky. As he noted: “My seventh grade Algebra teacher was an egotistical puff-headed tennis buff who didn’t give a flip about much else, and as far as the work went, once they started adding letters and parentheses into the equation (pun distended), I was LOST.

05/29 Direct Link
Letters and numbers,
they just aren’t the same,
thus they don’t belong together;
please don’t make me slumber
I’ll flunk out of this game
and will hate this math sh** forever!

Much later on, however, Davey was able to make his way in the world –and do quite well, thank you very much – without having absorbed so much as a trivial snippet of those ridiculously complicated mathematical so-called sciences.

He thought of that algebra so-called teacher now and then, and felt vindicated that the term ‘algebra’ didn’t need be capitalized.
That sh**-ful collective of lunacy didn’t deserve proper noun status.
05/30 Direct Link
Uh-oh – here’s that Watchtower again,
as you all know it happens now and then,
but ‘now and then’ is too often, friend!

That Hendrix cover was written by Dylan
who brandished a poet’s power;
and here on some weekends
we have let the shill in:
Hark! A pamphlet called “The Watchtower”.

With a knock at the door
just like mentioned before
so sore, I abhor and then cower;
Should I crawl under couch?
Nope, too dusty – ouch!
Best to hide for the rest of the hour.

All too often,
this visit enraging,
but sometimes I’ll soften
and find it engaging.
05/31 Direct Link
Be that as it May, we close here on this day.
And it is with exuberance Davey can say
Word 2007
is like seventh heaven
and a pleasure in which to foray.

As for the usual May weather, no such thing as ‘usual’ or ‘consistent’ exists from year to year.

Here in ’14, after mounds of snow cleared, one of the Metasequoia Glyptostroboides showed serious signs of decline.
This was a shocker to Don’t Laugh It’s Paid For Farm’s country bumpkin inhabitants; after all, they had thought this majestic ancient species to be nearly invincible.

Maybe late frost did it.