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THE NEW PALS CLUB WEB-LOG

THE NEW PALS CLUB WEB-LOG
improbable-looking limestone karsts in Guilin

Thursday, June 08, 2017

For Thursday, June 8, 2017

Gotta type fast before this is old news and forgotten by the fickle public. 

Something detected,
Something infected,
Something for everyone:
A Comey day, tonight!

Fakers and ringers,
One with short fingers,
Something for everyone:
A Comey day, tonight!

Nothing with class, nothing with sense,
Bring down the braggart, dirty and dense!

Old situations,
New explanations
Words lose all meaning with the Right!
Tragedy tomorrow,
Comey Day tonight!

Frenzied and bitter
Bleating on Twitter,
Soaked in emoluments:
A Comey day, tonight!

Bleakly depressing
Info suppressing,
Something for columnists
A Comey day tonight!

Nothing makes sense
Nothing feels fair
Short-sighted lies pour out of his hair.
Facts leaked from trials!
Fact-free denials!
Agents from Russia in plain sight!

Bullies and whiners!
Intel and diners!
Oilmen and huskies!
Wingers and Russkies!
Sleeping dogs!
Alt-right frogs!
Cupidity!
Turgidity!
Newsbreaks!
Fakes!
Cries!
Lies!
Spinners!
Bad winners!
Mopers!
Gropers!

A COMEY DAY…
TONIGHT!

[by Kip Williams, after Stephen Sondheim]
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Sunday, February 19, 2017

Toon River Anthology, part 17

CASPER

You look like someone who could use a friend!
But never mind. If there’s one thing I’ve learned,
It’s not to go down that road. The only times
I thought it was going to work, I still got the shaft.
They went to Heaven. Yeah, Heaven! And I’m still here.
How long has it been? A century? A millennium?
So pardon me if I'm just a little bit down today.
It’ll pass. It always passes. I’ll be cheerful again. 
I’ll be a real Pollyanna, and I’ll have adventures.
As to that stone and what it implies, all I can say is:
I WISH!


HOT STUFF

Born a devil, lived a devil, died a devil.
No, not one of those tall devils, or the fat ones—
Just a little one. Cute, harmless. An imp, really.
Sometimes unexpectedly good, never evil.
Mild pranks, hijinks, tomfoolery, a hot foot or two.
I used to think I’d grow up and get big,
I’d be a regular Mephistopheles!
FEAR ME!
But no.
If anything, my belly got rounder,
And my head got cuter. Just don’t pat it, Bub,
You’ll burn your hand! (That’s devil humor.)
There was my life: It was OK. I hung with my friends,
Swiped an apple or two.
Not too good, not too bad:
Born To Raise Heck.
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Friday, January 27, 2017

another filk

From a few years back…

YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE

You only live once, that’s how it goes.
One life and you’re gone, most evidence shows.

You live for your years, you turn your wheel
Some say you get more years; that’s not the deal 

Your life is the least the world puts on your plate
Be fast to the feast, or be late for your fate!

One life all your own, and you’re the price.
One more would be nice, but you don’t live twice

(ttto: You Only Live Twice, DUH)


[slightly revised, 2017]
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a swinging holiday

There's a blackboard in one of my classrooms—actually both, since I take both classes in the same room on different days—with some writing on it about snowmen and whatnot. Down near the bottom, in mixed-case cursive, it says "Jungle Bells," like someone was doing the "i" and made two peaks instead of one. In a situation like that, I could (1) just ignore it, (2), fix it, or (3) do something else. I chose (3). Today, as the rest of the class was filing in, I was scribbling away:

JUNGLE BELLS

Swinging through the trees
With a holly jolly ape.
Music's on the breeze.
Native children gape!
Lights on green fronds cling
And shimmer in the heat.
Let's dance and sing till tree frogs ring
With a yuletide jungle beat! Oh—

Jungle Bells, Jungle Bells,
Through rain forests green!
Carols hum on a wooden drum
From hands that can't be seen, oh—
Jungle Bells, Jungle Bells,
Tinkle through the swamp:
Festive chimes that hang from vines
For a sultry Christmas romp!

So have a happy. The time is out of joint anyway.
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Monday, January 23, 2017

way down upon Toon River

Freckles Friendly

A lot of people, when they talk about their life,
Say, “Sure, I did what I did. I had no choice.”
I’m not judging them, but that describes me:
The poor friend of the richest kid on earth!
What else can you do when one family
Owns everything in the county, in the state,
And the pampered heir decides that he
Has to cultivate the poorest of the poor
To show that he has the common touch?
You going to put your foot down, show your pride
And listen to your kid brother cough all night
In the leaky room you share with your folks?
So you listen to his golly-gee platitudes
And you thank him for everything you get,
No matter how trivial or useless it is.
And try your damnedest to save a little,
Shopping at the company store: lotsa luck!
And one day, maybe, you survive it all
And you escape him and go to another state,
Start your own business, and tell folks
That your last name has always been Welloff.
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Tuesday, January 17, 2017

we need a new label

I've written a reel. Wrote it on January 11, 2017, and on the 16th, I took it to my regular Monday Irish jam group, who liked it and played it. Now I must write more, and now I have a new label for such items.

Look Away (by me)

It's copyrighted. I was going to go with Creative Commons (BY-NC-SA), but Wikipedia seemed to say that these could lead to a legal thicket, which seems like a lot to put on a poor little reel.
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