BY Davey H

02/01 Direct Link
Whoops! Hold everything! Whelp, Davey H just relearned the hard way that you ‘can’t take it back’. This with reference to
When you post, it sticks. No editing, period.

And so it is with simmering regret that Davey H reports a redundancy due to a slip ‘o the mouse. Or keyboard. Or whatever.

Due to any or all of the above mentioned slips, his January 29th post got misplaced, and as it turns out, January 30th got pasted in its place; hence, two identical entries got posted on two consecutive days: the 29th and 30th.

Not that anyone noticed.
02/02 Direct Link

His ADD – or as is currently the more stylish presentation of that phenomenon – ADHD, was becoming glaringly apparent, and Davey H’s desperate parents didn’t know quite what to do.

They were flying instruments at first, this being their inaugural flight into the vast uncharted skies of parenthood, and help was scarce.
Of course, they had books. Dr. Spock was an early pioneer, penning such masterpieces as ‘Dr. Spock’s Baby And Child Care’.

Another tome present in their literary arsenal was ‘Baby Makes Three’.
Hey, golly gee!
They did their best
like all the rest
but Davey H
presented a test.
02/03 Direct Link

Out to get hopping, so don’t pout; balls not dropping, no need to shout!
To wax discursive, no improvement is seen; in writing of cursive, oh, how has it been?
Now Brink Road is still friggin’ closed, and uphill we dozed to see that our friend Jim still has maple syrup. Well, bully for him!
Whilst over the hills thus falls a hush; I pondered the thrills of a place to dump brush. And that’s exactly what I did; behind the hedgerow it was hid.
Today and most days like this the township dumps sand with salt to spike it.
02/04 Direct Link

Salt for no-fault; salty, filthy,
non-slick road
to which our tires hap’ly adhere;
it’s a necessary curse,
though hard on the purse
around this time of year.

Taking a chance cutting off corners on a downhill,
but doing the dance perchance if you will.

Down the hill I’m telling you:
our friend Jill came down with flu.
Her cough had juice,
her temp was hot,
yet she had no use
for the flu shot!

Good for her!
A member of the medical profession, no less.
But you can bet your bottom buck, no guess
her story won’t get much press.
02/05 Direct Link

Will maple syrup do me harm?
It’s oft for sale at Big Jim’s Farm.
So sweet and neat and like a drug,
the day complete – get us a jug!
No small ones, NO, I’d say, aw shucks;
pick up a gallon – it’s fifty bucks.

More snow, you know,
but no weepin’ or wailin’;
although as we go, we did some fishtailin’.

Remember: Jim and his clan
were the original family.
Let’s not forget that. Deemed a ‘century farm’,
Jim, his now-deceased parents,
his deceased brother,
a nephew and some very reliable cohorts
surely have prevailed through times good and bad.
02/06 Direct Link

Shoeless this morning. Enter car.
Remove shoes.
Whoa! Won’t go far!
That chilly breeze that you just can’t lose,
but time’s-a-wastin’ – let’s hit the tar!

Cold air on the toes where they mearly froze;
a nice blast ‘o heat you just chose.
But without a shipment
we have some equipment
and if we can bear it
someday we will share it.

Thinking back upon that call to jury duty:
never again will this boy look upon
such a call with dread. No way.
Today, okay, bear with this opining:
we must all say STOP!
For the dog that keeps whining.
02/07 Direct Link

As the day wore on and energy waned,

with venue thus gone

should it then be feigned?

Take ‘er out of gear and put it in park;
because, lookie here: it is damn near dark.

Hopefully this can be read
when it’s time to copy it.

After all, to digress,
all’s well that ends swell
when it’s electronically codified,
I guess.

Dottie likes doing a cat visit, and one cannot blame her; because that kind is it that is so much tamer. Thus ‘tis put here in these scripted logs; for those cats, my dear, are a lot unlike dogs!


02/08 Direct Link

Live long and prosper – an adage we hear;
but you’re at a loss per each paycheck, you fear.
Bullet points and pizza joints;
they make the grade ‘oer sharpened blade.

Wood in back we need to stack
if Old Man Winter cuts us slack!

Early it is, with sun in me eyes;
a stark need to whiz –
hey, that’s no surprise!
Heading eastward, thus we go;
Piss! I drank too much H2O!

Eyes forward when driving means this:
safety first.
And thus arriving, get there first.
Rolling wheels reserve their grease;
how good it feels to arrive in one piece!

02/09 Direct Link

Cracks and potholes in the road

perturb this wagon’s light-assed load.

Meanwhile, a cursory flip

through various radio frequencies

yield’s zero useful information.

So go faster if you dare,

yes with great speed thus you fare;

just make sure to be aware

of the morning’s solar glare.

Oh, tractor trailer, huff & puff;

as seventy is not fast enough.

Just be my guest, please, go and pass;

the sooner you’ll ease up off my ass!

I-95, when down southeast

will come alive but soon you’re fleeced.

Aaah, the smell of stale diesel fumes

on a straightaway as the rush resumes.

02/10 Direct Link

With 14 minutes to the destination,

it’s timing’s ideal to Davey’s observation.

In other words, what’s meant by that:

traffic was absurd in two seconds flat!


At the Advanced Rigging course,

folks in threes, ones and twos;

some just needed some CEUs.

Davey H didn’t but wanted to go;

because he was still pretty damn gung-ho.


The course went ‘til 3 in the afternoon;

of course, you see it ended too soon.

Hosted by our pals at Vermeer

in their corrals with chipper gear

but just the show was not enough:

this boy had to go and buy some stuff!

02/11 Direct Link

A gray pall cast its shadow ‘oer what appeared to NOT be a mall. . .you know: one of those urban or suburban heat sinks that contain the toys and trinkets we have come to know and crave.

Still, the drab sky does prevail, and as of 4 pm, out westward to sail.

Then, making a switch from pencil to pen,
hey, life’s got a high pitch, shall we go ‘round again?

Gray liked Ray, yes a pal he did like, but to this day he would resent Mike.

Dot-quote. Like this.” That’s how style dictates closure of a quotation anyway.

02/12 Direct Link

Aghast, we go past a nasty filthy substrate of salty grit that resides below a disingenuous veneer of white. Yes, off-white. Be not fooled by its sight!

Today’s insouciant scribbling results filled 1½ pages; Aye, such brash insults here for folks of all ages!

Later on in wee hours: After nearly sweating by the fire, it was time to cut it off.

Then again, all wood things come to an end.
Off to the mundane: toilet, floss, brush, shuteye.

Okay, word fiend: having amassed a little over nine day’s worth on PAPER, it’s time to get going and edit it.

02/13 Direct Link

Even when life gets kind of stale,
you need to keep pluggin’ away.
That is how, as per this tale,
the folks are together this day.
Sixty three years,
and they gave it their best; 
through laughs, trials, and tears,
being put to the test.

Whoa! Something just fell off the fridge. Something BIG. “When will you learn?”
An angered spouse asks.
Well, the problem’s twofold: first, the floor slopes to the back of the fridge, which in and of itself isn’t bad; in fact, it helps provide an ‘auto-close’ feature that would not be afforded with a level floor.
02/14 Direct Link

Too bad about the floor: it happened years previously as the sill under the wall rotted out due to excessive moisture from underneath, and the floor promptly followed suit.
Next on the list of the fridge’s troubles is its malfunction as regards defrosting. Manual defrosting is the order of the day, performed at least once per year, so this means the fridge is perennially pulled out away from the wall in order to facilitate easier access when the time comes to get out the old hair dryer, take apart the backing plate from the freezer compartment, and go to town. 
02/15 Direct Link

This trick was instigated during a fridge repair guy’s visit.

So that visit – which yielded no tangible results other than the prospect of shelling out $280 or so for a new main computer board – was in fact fruitful

He was an affable, no-nonsense fellow, utilizing a gentle, fatherly manner intended to convey rather than just display. On that characteristic alone, this chap would have been well worth his $75.00 service fee. But the fact that the Don’t Laugh It’s Paid For Farm household garnered highly useful fridge maintenance tips was priceless.
Thus ends this chapter in the ongoing ‘keep-the-fridge-going’ saga.
02/16 Direct Link

Recently, a pundit penned a piece entitled “Our Love Affair With Digital Is Over”. So in reading this, Davey H realized said digital stuff was no longer his 4 leaf clover.
NO, it’s damn near gone, so let’s just move on and not burn our eyes out or continue to pout
with electronic fetter: hey, paper is better!

Actually, it’s not, but screens aren’t so hot.
They aren’t the look
for reading a book,
so what other stuff have we got?

On another note, Davey H got back in the saddle; off to skidaddle and hope for a fun day, but hey, it’s a Monday.
02/17 Direct Link

Say what? Run, run, Rudolph, in 3rd gear;
no more playing golf you hear?

Pickled jalapenos? Yeah, give us some!
I could eat those ‘til my lips go numb.
But as a colleague once had chided:
“you’re not a Latino.”
Yes, that was decided.

So that tidbit’s, intact, or is it?
That fact was aired during a southern visit.
Said fact, in fact, was to be had
thus proffered to Davey by his Dad.

Though for hot foods
Davey expressed preference,
betwixt the two dudes
he then showed deference.

Habañeros burn ya TWICE,
Yeah, and those are oh, so nice!
02/18 Direct Link

Hark! Whilst listening to a talk show, it was with unfettered joy to experience the host LISTENING to the caller!

This particular host traditionally has had a VERY hard time listening to anything but himself talking.

The caller was repetitive, parroting what he had said at least twice.
Repetition, repetition, repetition.
That’s the way of the talk world these days.

Repeat, repeat, repeat to death;
‘oer the head you should beat
with your breath
again and again,
but not only ‘til then,
just please BEAT IT TO DEATH!

So anyway, at least the caller got heard,
but oh, my word!
02/19 Direct Link

Colonial Realty gave Davey a pen,
but the ink didn’t last very long;
so pray tell,
could they give him a new pen again?
“Sure.” they said,
as they’d done nothing wrong.

“Thanks”, said this chap
‘oer that cheap piece of crap
that had been wrong not to write;
when he pulled off the cap
and it laid on his lap
‘oer spilled ink he had gotten uptight.

Thus to bring to a close
this crapped-out pen prose
on the ink that had given such grief:
a desire arose to return to those
said pens and that gave some relief.
02/20 Direct Link

Sticking out like a sore thumb is no fun,
but Davey H can assure that having not one but TWO sore thumbs is a major friggin’ hindrance to even the most mundane everyday activities.

So please, oh thumb, hey, just go numb
and give a bit less grief;
as per this rant
oh, thumb please grant
these hands some good relief!

The above riposte against what appears to be a chronic condition in Davey H’s basal thumb joints is not to be construed as railing against what could possibly be normal effects of wear and tear or aging.

Or maybe.
02/21 Direct Link

Write, write, and don’t be contrite!
But stop a bit to catch your breath;
just don’t ever dare to expose and lay bare
your onerous fear of death!

For each day this chatter
may or may not matter
as you thus expound on your page;
hey, it’s a good distraction
from Nature’s strong action
propelling you into old age.

So be therefore advised
though old age is despised
through the eons the story is told;
as you sit in your lodge
you surely won’t dodge
the aspect of your growing old.

Dayum! This here bummer topic
can make one myopic!
02/22 Direct Link

Plink plink go the piano keys
while we duck and dodge potholes, please.
Sit back and watch the weak sun tease
through leafless branches just like these.
Although you thought ‘twas evergreen;
or is it dead? What does it mean?

Onward, forward, upward we whirl,
looking down briefly to see a squirrel
beheaded, supine, pink and gray
Uggh; for said squirrel, ‘twas quite a bad day.

Dead squirrels and their kith and kin littering already littered roads is more than ample testimony to human petrochemically powered civilization in its hurly-burly rush to get from proverbial point A to point B.

02/23 Direct Link

To the layman, a cop’s mentality is unfathomable.
As pertinent as the adage, ‘when you’re a hammer, everything looks like a nail’, surely to cops [at times] this would also entail.
Of course we should all respect the cops,
even if at times we don’t think they’re tops.

In front of the screen as sure as time passes, old Davey is seen wearing scratched amber glasses. This, to the uninitiated, is one way, albeit a somewhat lame one, of mitigating the UV or blue light spectrum exposure from computer screens to the average user. And Davey H is DEFINITELY average.

02/24 Direct Link

Dump your pollution
across the street;
yea, ‘tis not a solution,
and trouble complete!
[Polluters’ names, addresses, and
phone numbers withheld
pending notification of authorities]

It was nearly Valentine’s Day,
and Davey H was off
to no races whatsoever.
Yet you could bet
he had arrows in his quiver.
Brightly colored pencil in hand,
cell phone OFF, you understand,
we headed down the pike;
with seats so soft,
bright sun aloft,
with lots of sights to like.
But riding time is not sublime
and we don’t give a hoot;
about this road or our payload
or this here stinkin’ commute.
02/25 Direct Link
Red flags or red ink?
Which drags most?
What do you think?
Red flags promulgated by a school shooter
would include a history of SSRI drugs.
Or rather, it SHOULD.
And it COULD, if we didn’t have a 500 billion dollar per year pharmaceutical industry
wielding great influence.
That should be obvious, of course.
[As a disclaimer, Davey H is not impartial to this issue, having lost a cousin and a brother to suicide.]
Their common thread:
both were on the med.
And as one pro-med PA once did say:
“better med than dead”.
Oh, really? How about BOTH, Bucky?
02/26 Direct Link

Davey bit his tongue whilst conversing with the PA, quelling the urge to snipe: “Ditch that white-ass coat and shoo the high horse. This psych med paradigm is at best questionable!”

Next up, a comment from Davey H’s pee-nut gallery: “Chocolate consumption late in the day will give you gumption to continue the play.
This was not an inane rhyme-for-the-hell-of-it stanza from Davey H’s churlish, floppy real paper play-book, and wasn’t culled from any of his ostensible research, mind you; rather, it was a bit of an info snippet here, one there, some from afar, and a few over thar.
02/27 Direct Link

Then, later on, Davey thought about old Petey Carson. Petey couldn’t bring himself to listen to opera on Saturday afternoons.
He had made that abundantly clear to all who would listen. He was a college basketball fan and an Army ‘dropout’. He relished imported beer.

Petey, to the uninitiated, was the guy who got mugged while delivering pizza in a seedy apartment complex one evening.
A swift crack to his head’s back lad him out. And with this brought no doubt he would suffer long-term effects from that incident. Although he probably hasn’t died yet, we remember Petey this day.
02/28 Direct Link

Whilst a puff of smoke from that truck,
 – no joke – enveloped us as in a vault;
that puff was enough
to cause wheezing and stuff,
but was it just dust from road salt?

Never enough time.
“Never say never” goes the old saw.
Yet ‘never’ is a function of time nonetheless.
After all, one could say that if given the time to do or not do, our pal ‘never' could rightly assert
“No F’in’ Way!”
Sooo. . .

Road salt grit with macrophages;
sun’s rays flit in slivered stages.
‘Tis good, they say, to be alive;
tomorrow’s foray: snow 4" to 5".