the annual gift-giving hectivities
in advent time
when we are
expecting the birth of our savior
defy traditional ideas
of quiet meditation
drowning the sense of wonder
with relentless jingles for super discount sales
of things neither we
nor anybody else
even though they suggest we
and whoever we give those goodies to
would be beyond the moon
in spite of all this
the United Nations
ever and again call to raise billions
to help countries devastated by war
or other mostly man-made catastrophes
I suggest we operate by the causality principle:
the countries who sell all those arms
and military support to the warring parties
or leave the natives no land to grow their own food
simply use the money gained from their sales and appropriations
to help the refugees they created
build up all the cities their weapons destroyed
provide a living for the farmers whose lands
have been sold to agrobusinesses
pay for the education of all the children
unable to have schooling
reconstruct the societies their greedy actions destroyed
sounds like a fair proposal
For the low low price of just being within' earshot,
the conversation analyst will run a full diagnostic on your conversation.
You know how that perfect comeback
feels, three weeks after
You didn't say it?
In training, representatives for Inbound sales listen to recordings of their own phone calls and critique them like Art majors in a studio class.
Our conversation analyst.
Looks at you like a shoe on the wall.
Unlike the psychology major, the conversation analyst will never share his results.
He'll just judge you.
He doesn't speak.
His fourth grade english teacher taught him that the carpenters house is never finished.
She was referring to her husband, the carpenter, not finishing the renovations on their new home, but the conversation analyst heard it as a metaphor, and adopted it as a universal truth.
Much like a painting controls the path your eye travels the canvas, or the scientific process that goes into composing music,
the way you build rapport is one of those things that people don't realize can be an art form until they wittness it professionally.
Our conversation analyst considers himself Socio-passionate.
Which amuses him, when he deducts points from your conversation for not empathizing correctly.
Or not giving effective compliments by asking a relevant question afterwards.
The conversation analyst is not always mute. On special occasions such as first impressions he is a fine conversationalist.
You can meet the conversation analyst for the first time, as many times as you want.
If the carpenters house is never finished.
The conversation analyst
exemplar at listening,
Will never hear you.
I don't want to sell,
I wish not to have sold at all.
Religion is useless...
Spiky-Hats, pointy-things, death.
I am not a salesman,
Early morning, they scuttle around, looking for some junk that no one has yet found.
Look another bright orange sign, slam on the brakes maybe we will make it on time.
Read the sign. Follow endless arrows. Some little punk changed the direction of these arrows.
We drove for an hour, Grandmother said keep going, we will find it, I know it has great offerings.
Tireless efforts the sun has now set. Grandmother was determined to still find this treasure nest.
As annoyed as I was, I would give her the endless days of driving around looking for those junk sale signs, if I could have just one more day.
Now she rides above me as I wander from sale to sale. Stopping only at the ones I know she would have wanted to.
I silently shop through others junk. Talking to her about each item I rummage through thinking of her.
My garage is full of boxes of other peoples stuff as I keep on buying all the junk you thought was just.
I learned much from you. Making money on this stuff. I love you dearly Grandmother for the lessons you taught.
Nashoba copyrighted 2017
she is a carafe of reverb
that broach a top in quarters now
this tray makes her wedding day
while her make up dries her tears
with skins regale there with the bells on
as her blossom is newly squib
Sir or Ma'am,
It's not blood but my sweat that trails the sidewalk of the
Dogs lick it for the salt.
I've given them names but they
I wear a watch, a polo, and a prayer.
I offer a future for you
for the thirteen seconds
that I exist
at your front door
until you slam it in my face.
What does Santa have to do with Jesus
Or an egg-laying rabbit for that matter.
People who think this crap up must be
As mad as Lewis Caroll’s Mad Hatter.
I mean, these same store owners
Got those stories from somewhere.
Then put them out generously for
Gullible parents so freely to share
With kids grown greedy by the lack
Of parental care and nurturing
Not to mention pablum, for real
As the family thing was rupturing.
Where did that rabbit come from?
It never made sense at all to me.
How did those ******* up genetics
Get dragged into the nursery?
It defies belief that anyone over eight
Ever bought in to the silly tale.
It was always so obvious to me
That it was all to make a sale.
So, first there was fat man and sleigh
Flying at blinding electronic speed.
With ungainly flying reindeer as
What passes for valiant steeds.
Next we have a bunny who hides
Millions of gaudy hard boiled eggs
Then apparently hops right off
On some very confused short legs.
Did I leave out the Tooth Fairy?
Now, that is a real piece of work.
I really believed that pillow thing.
My god was I ever a young ****!
There might be someone else besides
Fecund rabbit, fat men and a fairy.
If they hadn’t brainwashed us so early
This whole mishagas would be scary.
The new Genre Tourist Punk
is sailing the nation.
Hawaiian shirts and white keds are lining up all around Orlando to see
up and thrifting bands like
Lighthouse tour and
Founded in a Starbucks
by Toni and Dash,
two MECA grads one student loan away from selling out and getting involved in
the lighthouse painting business,
The Band: Lobster Trap
gave birth to a whole new genre.
Toni and Dash decided they needed to provide music that was expensive. niche.
Something unspeakably mundane.
With smash hits like
"This traffic is *******"
And "My name still isn't Joe".
Lobster Trap is flying
up the American top 40
faster than you can say socks and sandals
Sales of "I HEART LOCATION" merch has skyrocketed with every launched tour.
Crowds of L.L. bean boots and visors are Moshing, breaking poloroid cameras over each others heads in a salmon rage.
old school punk fanatics were skeptical at middle aged middle class suits getting into their scene.
until it hit them that they could now throw punches
at every pedestrian who ever cut them off.
"Hi thirsty, I'm Dad." By Land of the Polite
Has been played more times in the last year then any taylor swift song.
Money once invested in college-bound middle class vacationlander spawn is being wisely spend on bands like "discount Polo",
and "Local Diner"
if you spend an obscene amount of money on travel fair, and over priced, cheaply made souvenirs;
Or Work in customer service thriving to see those leaf peepers choked out by their own ***** packs.
Do yourself a favor.
road trip into your local bullmoose
sporting your states name on your chest.
And Treat yourself to an exclusive new album
of TOURIST PUNK.