Magpie Tales 3

This was a tough one. I couldn’t summon the muse at all, no matter how many times I looked at that damned picture of a kilo weight. Coming from a certain generation, I kept getting hung up on that word "kilo".

Back in the day . . . way back in the day . . . I have to confess to a momentary fascination with the effects of marijuana. It only lasted for a short time. A couple of days. Or was that weeks. Or months. Or years. I sort of forget. But it is far in the past now. (That makes me think of the scene in the movie "It’s Complicated" where Meryl Streep and Steve Martin are sharing a joint and one or the other of them says (approximately) "This sure is different from what we smoked 30 years ago!")

Anyway I had a friend . . . back in the day . . . who smoked way more than I did. One time he went to Hawaii and while there acquired a sizeable amount of what was known as Maui Wowie, much of which he brought back to the mainland in his wife’s suitcase. She didn’t know it was there until they got home and boy was she pissed at him.

He decided to share his wealth with me and mailed a package of it to me. It arrived at my home when no one was there, with his return address on the outside of the package. AND WITH POSTAGE DUE!!!

Now there’s a sidebar to this. Our yard at the time had a large number of snails. I had told him we were going to gather them up, purge them by feeding them cornmeal and then cook them up for an escargot feast. Snails . . . or garden slugs, as he insisted on calling them . . . were not his cup of tea. But when he was in Hawaii, he toured a botanical garden and took an extreme close-up photo of the biggest snail I’ve ever seen. In the picture which topped off his "gift", it looked about the size of an old Buick.

Well, the good news is the postman didn’t open the package, we paid the postage due, we didn't "process" the snails and the rest is lost to history.

Until Willow’s photo prompt for Magpie Tales 3. And the only thing I could think of was this little limerick.

The mailman while making his rounds,
Brought a package that brings joyful sounds,
A box of fresh weed
All foil-wrapped, indeed,
A kilo that weighs two-plus pounds.

And if that's not enough, you can join in and/or read much more from more talented writers at Magpie Tales 3

A rant

O.K. It's time for a rant. Those of you who don't want to read this should delete it now.

Our sainted Arizona legislature, overcome by Republicans, has decided rather than try to solve its budget crisis that the most important thing to do is to object to President Barack Obama's right to serve. To wit, that he is not a citizen of the United States. He has never produced a birth certificate that confirms that he was born in Hawaii (a state) but that his birthplace was in Kenya. There is a photo circulating on the Internet showing a sign that says "Welcome to Kenya, birthplace of President Barack Obama." Of course, it has been shown to have been Photoshopped and is totally false. But the "birthers" still proclaim it.

Now, a crazy woman from a place known as Skull Valley, in Arizona, has introduced a bill in the Arizona legislature to insist that future candidates for the presidency proclaim their birth as U.S. citizens.

It is obvious hatred.

What is painful is that some 40 members of the legislature (Republicans all) have signed onto this crazed piece of legislation.

What is wrong with them? Are they crazy? Or are they just so biased against a popularly elected president of the United States that their sensibilities have become enraged and biased?

Lucy Mason, Andy Tobin and their co-horts in the legislature should be ashamed of themselves.

And most of all . . . Judy Burges, who sponsored this abominable legislation.

If you, as responsible voters, have any common sense at all, you will vote against all of these people in the future.

An Elvis breakfast

Elvis Presley was known for some pretty unhealthy eating habits, like his deep fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. But I adapted that for a tasty breakfast snack this morning. First I toasted an English muffin, then spread it with creamy peanut butter and topped that with a sliced banana. Very good! I'd show you a picture but I ate it before I thought of the camera.

Olympics Fever

I was about to turn out my light and go to sleep when SWMBO called from the other room: "Did you see that?"

I obediently padded down the hall and said "What?"

She said a woman from a two-woman bobsled team had just been thrown out of her sled and skidded down the track on her backside.

I asked if the sled had run over her and SWMBO responded "No, she was behind it."

I unfeelingly said "I don't really have any use for the Olympics, winter or summer."

SWMBO responded sharply "Oh, yes, you'll watch 9 months of baseball or football games on television."

. . . . .

After thinking that over, I returned to the fray and said, smartly, "Baseball is the national pastime and I'd certainly rather spend my time with it than to watch a bunch of silly girls fall out of sleds or a bunch of girly-guys use brooms to sweep the ice in front of what they call a stone!"

. . . . .

I know.

I'm going to pay for that.

Catalyst's big Oscar predictions

I'm 11 days ahead of the actual ceremony but here are my Oscar winner picks at this year's Academy Awards for 7 awards. An asterisk (*) indicates I have not yet seen the movie.

Foreign Language Film:

"The White Ribbon" *


Supporting Actress:

Mo'Nique in "Precious: Based on the novel 'Push' by Sapphire" *


Supporting Actor:

Christoph Waltz in "Inglorious Basterds" *


Actress in a Leading Role:

Meryl Streep in "Julie and Julia"


Actor in a Leading Role:

Jeff Bridges in "Crazy Heart"


Best Director:

Kathryn Bigelow for "The Hurt Locker"


Best Movie:

The Hurt Locker

I know this goes against the huge push for "Avator" and James Cameron and I have not seen the movie. But I was so impressed by the Hurt Locker and by the fact that this high testosterone movie was directed so well by a woman that I can't overlook it. And things I've read about Avatar and its big-ego director make me believe the Academy may turn on it.

March 7th . . we'll all see.

Magpie Tales II (Two)

The Hotel Forum. Now, the Hotel Crowne Plaza. In Bratislava. How the times have changed. Slovakia. It dates back to 270,000 BCE. Before the Christian Era. Not the hotel. The country. But it’s all changed. Now the Hotel Forum is the Hotel Crowne Plaza. It’s still across the street from the Presidential Palace. But it’s different.

Restaurant Magd a Lena is still there. But there is now Restaurant Fusion. Fusion? What the hell is that? Fusion music is awful. What can the restaurant be like?

But . . . the Forum. Let’s take it back in time.

I was there in 1959. It was dark then. The rooms were lit by multiple candles. It was warm, from the heat of many fireplaces and by the ambience of those candles. Hundreds of candles, throughout the restaurant and the hotel and the halls. Candles in sconces on the walls. Warm. Beautiful.

There were exotic women in gorgeous gowns. Men in tuxedos. Gourmet meals. Champagne.

And then.

(No, I didn’t wake up.)

There was more.

I was posing as a businessman but I was really an operative for a government agency I won’t identify, even now. I waited inside the hotel lobby, looking for a certain man.

Then I saw him. He was tall. He had a dark moustache. He had dark hair. His eyes were intense, also dark, betraying nothing except that he was dangerous. He and I had long been enemies. I had been told he was in Bratislava to assassinate the president. He was Drago.

Our eyes met and he smiled slightly as we nodded to each other. I walked slowly into the cognac bar at the hotel. He followed. I sat at a small round table. He gazed around the room. We were alone in the room except for a bartender who was watching a noisy soccer game on the television over the bar. Then he approached me, pulled out a chair and carefully sat down at the same table. We each ordered and the bartender brought us our cognacs. I gazed into his eyes as we both sipped from our glasses. We knew we were enemies. Yet friends.

I drew a cigarette from my pack of Gauloises and offered him one. He declined and took one from his own pack. A Russian cigarette. He took out the matches from his box . . . Hotel Forum, Bratislava . . . and moved to light his cigarette. In the glare from his matchlight, I quickly pulled my silenced gun and shot him between the eyes. And killed him. The bartender heard nothing over the blaring sound from his television.

I left Drago’s burnt match lying across the open box on the table and slipped quietly out of the bar.

The president was safe.

For now.

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This is the second in a set of writing exercises under the name of Magpie Tales, organized by Willow. You can read more and join the fun by clicking here.

Snow

We got hit with a snowstorm this morning. Not much but enough to whiten the territory.

By noon the sun was out and the snow was rapidly melting. But my buddy, Reed, has visitors in from Juneau, Alaska, and they (Princess ME and her guy JO) said it was colder with more snow than they had at home!