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The exhaust would come first;
it was so friggin’ LOUD!
In the end, good results were obtained;
soon it would roll on, purring and proud,
cacophony no longer disdained.
Thus ‘round the shop
old Davey scurries
with the paint job
the least of his critical worries
‘Twas another day, obligations fulfilled
and needless to say
no more blood was spilled.
Whilst immersed in the fray
old Davey felt skilled;
and though trouble held sway,
on the way he’d rebuild.
Davey informs his reader hosts
that more is to come in subsequent posts,
so read on, reader, if you freekin’ dare!
It was Monday again
and prime time to scoff,
as the radio then
had to be turned OFF.
Rather than grieving or cussin’ or pissin’,
Davey decided he just wouldn’t listen.
Violence on the West Bank
with tribal tension to thank
and the US hoped-for hegemony
in Latin America,
more zealots setting off bombs in the Philippines
and workers without paychecks.
So prattle on, oh newscaster!
Your voice will be gone not quickly but faster!
Sun rises and sets each day
they place bets on an unfolding scene
for “our” fat war machine.
So what do We The People say?
Work, don’t shirk, and do be deft;
and of your own quirk
please be bereft.
No, don’t smirk
with stiff palate cleft.
You’ll get your perk
and will not be EFFED.
So a lot can be said
with regard to keeping one’s nose down
and minding one’s own biz;
with no need to frown,
that’s what reality is.
What a difference it makes
when you have nice dry wood!
Yes, that’s what it takes
for the heat to be good.
The fact is, this practice
has served these folks well;
ash dust on the mantle is one way to tell.
Breaking news and free from views:
up in Minnesota they’ve had some fun
with temps below minus 21!
Oh, and lest ye get uptight,
please be advised: that’s Fahrenheit.
Davey the dunce
had driven there once
and did so in the hot summer haze;
that was THE time to go
and he’d have you know
that the trip took him [censored] days.
Whilst in ‘sota the quota of days nice and warm were but one iota where icicles form
so life’s not a breeze
there astride the Great Lakes
and you might just freeze
but hey, that’s just the breaks!
With mind wandering back
to the temperate zone,
Davey, on track, saw he wasn’t alone.
A jubilant Davey H exults with the revelation that his old [anonymous] buggy passed inspection!
To the inspection lane
old Davey had hurried,
because he was so friggin’ worried.
Concerned a bit, oh, yes, but
did the inspector learn
of the hosed-up rear strut?
Luckily not, as it turned out; the lower bolt ended up being impossible to extract,
so although it was cut, it remained intact.
Well, though said strut,
though it didn’t jut
still had one bolt that sadly was cut.
Finally one thing the inspector spied
was the seatbelt dangling on the driver’s side.
He said “it shouldn’t be too hard
to pick one up from your fave junkyard”
‘Twas a half an hour or not much quicker
when the old car emerged with a valid sticker!!
Thus, Davey gave the horn a toot
as that set of wheels had borne ripe fruit!
In closing, this event made it clear:
no need for disposing one more year.
Rolling somewhat insouciantly down the back roads of (censored) township, Davey H took great pleasure in seeing the incredulous gazes of oncoming drivers.
After all, who wouldn’t stare at a (censored year, make, model) that had a 15' Hasegawa tripod ladder strapped to its roof rack?
When ensconced at his (censored) Road job site, Davey could hear the unmistakable throaty roar of a skidder on the southwest peak, and ‘twas not a sound that he’d eagerly seek.
Then, the next day – oh gosh!
What a fray at the local car wash!
Davey bows with veneration
at the wonders of such automation.
Not, really, but it is worth noting that only one or two employees will be working the facility on any given day,
and to the bottom line
that is just fine
and quite well it does play.
Next up, after dousing the automobile,
it was off to a major challenge for real.
Yes, Davey would continue
with pruning operations
on that mature apple tree next to the gazebo.
“It is likely that it is actually two trees,” Davey noted, adding, “they were, even to the most casual observer’s eye, planted immediately adjacent to each other in what was no doubt the same planting hole.”
So that was well and good;
and if he may be so droll,
he got some apple wood!
So now the sun was shining
bouncing off those buds;
to work Davey was pining
whilst suiting up his duds.
He felt a bit of energy
but not a lot of power;
immersed in solar synergy,
these trees began to flower.
Blossoms, yes, it would be best
for they produce the pollen;
this grove of trees
yes, if you please
would thrive when bees come callin’!
With sprouts still pointing toward the sky
former neighbor Carl stopped by.
Inside the tree, atop a ladder
Davey shouted with glee
as if it would matter:
“Hello, Carl K.! How ya doin’ today?”
“Can you keep rain at bay?
Hey whaddya say?”
Carl said, “hey, oh monkey in the tree!
You’re just the man I wanted to see!”
A lively conversation ensued,
‘twixt Davey and that Carl K dude;
no cusswords or anything crude
and many good vibes did exude.
The next day, upon task completion,
regrets begged for fast deletion.
Davey gazed upon the tree
with a sense of reverie.
To Nature he did reverently bow;
wiped lingering sweat from his wet brow;
he was no rebel with a cause;
this livelihood did give him pause.
The weather had been erratic recently,
and America’s heartland was certainly no exception. In fact, during the much-ballyhooed cold snap in early February, Chicago experienced an 80° single day swing.
Everyone, it seemed, looked for a bogeyman to blame for such lurid extremes.
Opinions forming ‘oer global warming;
asthmatics wheezing each breath. . .
worse yet, that’s
some dogs and cats
so sadly froze to death.
So on and on the two camps quibble:
‘alarmists’ and ‘deniers’;
on the sweet cake of calm
they’ll need to nibble
and squelch all the quarreling fires.
Then once the arguing blazes are calmed,
we’ll hear phrases of which place was bombed.
Our ‘leaders’ we heed ‘em
to ‘let freedom ring’;
but our feces-splotched species
has not learned a thing.
The preceding ripostes are
and have been recurring themes
in Davey H’s scribbling:
outright distrust, angst, and pessimism
regarding Homo sapiens.
So much for that.
The next major hemorrhoid in Davey’s cache was the (censored year, make and model) pickup truck.
and more than a little rusty,
it would now face rejection
at the dreaded place of inspection.
To his surprise, the old truck did rise
although it consumed lots of gas;
not faced with rejection
it aced the inspection
emerging with bold lettered ‘PASS’!
Davey’s truck had passed a test
good luck, on laurels not to rest.
He gave a fu##, yes that was best;
pulled from muck and not in jest.
Thus truckie was lucky
for one more year;
let’s hope she stays plucky
and from trouble will steer.
It burns much oil and some just oozes;
antifreeze it also loses.
Never mind the gas it uses.
For these environmental abuses
Davey sees fit to make excuses.
But overall, that old truck is cool;
it makes good use of fossil fuel.
While its wallet impact is a bitch,
here’s one truck old Davey won’t ditch.
The next day, according to rumor,
Davey took a pooch to the groomer.
On a subsequent excursion,
his old car made mechanical sounds
as he loaded it up with his version
and a pack of four mutt-hounds.
That was yesterday, and as of this writing,
it was Valentine’s Day – yes, so inviting!
But romance was not anywhere to be seen;
and surely not on a radar screen.
No, sweethearts were not to be
due to a ‘national emergency’.
The urgency, of course, was totally fake
but was a force the Chump did make.
His right-wing base would heed the call
to push their case for a border wall.
Then they could dance a jig and shout:
“that wall is BIG to keep ‘THEM’ out!”
Others didn’t share the fuss
saying ‘they’ are likely just like ‘us’.
But the inclusion theme
just wouldn’t fly
as it’s not in the scheme
of the White House guy.
Thus with consternation
we have decided
that our sad-assed nation
will now stay divided.
They left the guacamolé out today
when both of them went to town;
returning home with much dismay
as that guac had all turned brown.
Thus the evening was complete
when a repast was made;
and it would be a mighty feat
with guac of a different shade!
Other folks who read this post
may not know what they’re missin’;
we may be the butt of snarky jokes
whilst having a pot to piss in.
The end result of that guacamolé debacle was somewhat positive; its remaining nutritive essence having been snatched from the jaws of a waiting compost bin by a few shots of apple cider vinegar.
Thus ends these highly stimulating kitchen meanderings.
The next day at sunup,
Dave could barely get up.
The ongoing snot factory located between his eyes was prodigiously producing. This, combined with quantities of tracheal discharge had boosted production to historic peaks.
This was but one more entry in a series of annoyances under the heading of ‘LIFE’. [Hells bells, man – Keith Richards wrote a whole book on the topic under the same name.]
So to get on with it amid personal strife.
Paper beckoned. But hey, wait a second:
he shuffled some, but. . .
Where was Davey’s Chump tax cut?
Said tax cut was nil
and dollars were few;
worse, Davey felt ill
with too much to do.
No time, no room; no rhyme, some gloom.
A tenuous struggle just like before;
oh, to befuddle – just get out the door!
Nobody ties shoelaces anymore.
It’s all gone Velcro®,
that’s the scoop;
better known as ‘hook & loop’.
And THAT Davey does abhor.
But Davey was grateful for those boots
with the Velcro® straps,
and as he cut wood,
it all turned out good,
but he maybe should have worn his chaps.
That was truth telling
regarding tree felling
while Dave was toiling alone;
today soreness lingers
in his back and stiff fingers
because they were worked to the bone.
This just in: [well, last weekend, anyway]
Darla Krantz has a parrot named Nicky free to a loving home. He came from Senegal, apparently, where enterprising pet dealers extract birds from their natural habitat and send them halfway ‘round Planet Earth
to satisfy the ‘pet’ buyers’ mirth.
Nicky comes replete with sizable aviary-style cage, food, perches and amenities,
but here’s the bit:
he needs a warm place to shit.
So if any of you have heard of someone who wants a bird, you can contact Darla directly via email at Darla Sky@ (censored).com.
Now, on to the next profundity.
Davey intimates this:
when you wake up so lame
in a bed of hot coals,
rekindling the flame
is the noblest of goals!
But this would prove
to be ‘one of those days’,
when a body can’t move
to wrench free from haze.
But Davey made the most,
to that day he raised a toast.
And thus he created this post
as a Saturday evening ghost.
Sure, on the job he did fine
but was a bit hard on his spine.
Indeed of this beleaguered spine
he did wonder
if it would stay in line
if he wrenched it asunder.
For when monkeying around
‘twould be easy to do;
just dance on the ground
and twist like a screw.
So what, pray tell,
is new and exciting?
“well, missed a whole day of writing.”
What else is in the offing
as he comes to terms
with that incessant coughing
while spewing lots of germs?
No matter, he would patter.
The next day, ‘twas windy here,
so Davey did stay at home and buy gear.
Alone, over the phone, it wasn’t so hard
to make a buy, guy, with his [censored] card.
Not that he was too far behind,
but sometimes the simple stuff is hard to find.
Case in point at his frumpy joint:
although he wasn’t that nimble;
he did a quick search
for a piece of merch
that was called a ‘round rope thimble’.
In time one was found
by Davey the hound
so the efforts were not all in vain;
yes, he saw thimbles hence
for sixty nine cents
and was back in the saddle again!
So his usual go-to vendor
was not the best sender
of round-ass thimbles and such;
but that was okay, it was a Monday
so things wouldn’t matter that much.
So Davey had hope
and also bought rope
to keep himself from a-slipping;
yes, he thought it best
with 4000 pound test,
it would qualify for the free shipping!
It was near the end of February when Davey H listened to Michael Cohen’s rippin’ testimony. The snarly, spiteful and vindictive tone of his Congressional interrogators was in evidence and quite frankly stunk to high heaven.
To stomach the entire questioning affair
would have been too sickening;
for a country boy with work clothes to wear
hearing it all was too much to bear
and his work plot was still thickening.
*CLICK* went the switch;
Davey snarled, feeling snide:
“life’s not a bitch
when you can get outside!”
Thus Davey trucked
happy to go up a tree.
It was a rather simple matter;
configuring the tripod ladder;
Davey does it all the time
when he’s too lazy to climb.
Uh-oh: a glaring typo!
It reared its ugly-assed head
to Davey, you know,
not Denise or Fred
at which time he said “Whoa!’
“That needs a retort!”
For said typo did go
in the (censored) report.
But once the quorum
a good score ‘em:
It was March 1st
and Davey stated
“prepare for the worst
with the tasks we have slated.”
“Well, I must profess
before this day expires:
I’d like to see less
of this tangle of wires.”
Next, Davey would feel
just a slight bit rewarded
if he could bring to heel
trees so clums’ly pollarded.
Yes, they needed some serious ‘tone’,
but truth be told, two were his own.
So sit tight, alright,
while he tells of these
that began as very slight
black poplar trees.
A small pair of tiny nursery twins
that grew barely past his old bony-ass shins.
It was spring of 1999 or 2000 – not sure which – and their old computer, despite being a 286 or 386 (whichever was in vogue at the time, prior to the ‘Pentium’ era) had not yet been buggered by Y2k.
Yep, Y2k that was okay
and they would pull through anyway.
Yes, anyway, Davey H, spouse and one or two dogs, depending on what year it was, put down roots in the pastoral hills of (censored), (censored). Prying open a bevy of seed and garden catalogs – eschewing any online opportunities as they didn’t yet exist – the excited couple picked out a
selection of trees, two of which were called ‘Lombardy poplars’.
After selecting the planting site, they plugged both whips into the sandy loam [this could well have been Arkansas] where the tiny saplings rapidly grew. Davey H and spousester fairly marveled at the near instantaneous shade. Now, some 20 or 21 years later, the Lombardys tower over a fenced in area where their roots have meandered well into the pen enclosure. Both of the gnarly trunks are approaching 10" DBH and the crowns reach approximately 40' in height. Two rounds of topping – a practice considered aberrant in professional arboricultural circles
– has resulted in forked tops in both trees, and to the initiated, the fancier term for this is ‘codominant stems’.
Ergo, Davey’s next task: sublimate the dominant leader (see nonexistent figure #1) and remove the second.
But other chores outdoors have beckoned.
And although Davey rails,
he won’t bore y’all with dull details.
Today is Schtukesie’s birthday, and Davey H needs to call him.
This friendly gesture, even if administered a day late (dollar short or not), would NOT be met with such righteous indignation as was the case when Davey H offered Seve non-Belasteros similar birthday sentiments years ago.
That, of course, was another matter
with no remorse from the former or latter.
On another note,
amid the radio chatter:
What did it say on this fine day?
Some blatant pro-vaccine patter.
At this, he squelched
as his ears belched
due to change in elevation.
Suddenly he thought
“someday soon when you take your last piss
before you draw that last breath
one thing you can be sure of is this:
you’ll be pissed off before death.
In closing, if you aren’t dozing, Davey H takes a page from Dr. Suzanne Humphries’ play-book regarding vaccines.
Amid the prevailing negativity-drenched atmosphere, some sniveled, some chiseled, and a very small but potent cadre of hackers saw to it that everyone else’s parade was rained on. And since the hackers held nearly the entire world by the proverbial scrotum, they wielded enormous power. So they reigned on.
As we shudder,
hackers grasp the rudder
of this slowly sinking ship.
Davey noted and hereby quoted:
“one thing I’ve learned is that I don’t know much. No need to keep reminding myself of that;
I already know it.”
If he plays his cards right, he won’t have to blow it.
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