Life without a wife
Is like a knife
So strife
For a better life.


Friends,

Life is short, but it is so beautiful. Make use of every minute. Do not waste your time on something worthless. Be always good and wear a smile all the times. Give a hand to all those who are in need of it and always expect the unexpected.

Sam

Today is Thursday, Sept. 25, the 267th day of 2014 with 98 to follow.

The moon is waxing. Morning stars are Jupiter, Uranus and Venus. Evening stars are Mars, Mercury, Neptune and Saturn.

A thought for the day:

Jim Henson, creator of the Muppets, said, The most sophisticated people I know -- inside they are all children.

QUOTES FOR THE DAY:

I don't like being told what to do.

------------------------

I don't need a lot of money. Simplicity is the answer for me.

------------------------

I think hard drugs are disgusting. But I must say, I think marijuana is pretty lightweight.

Linda Eastman McCartney

Half of the American people have never read a newspaper. Half never voted for President. One hopes it is the same half.

Gore Vidal (1925 - )

"Don't worry about failure; you only have to be right once."

Drew Houston


POETRY


MANIC PANIC

Marisa Crawford


Live fast
and dye your hair.

That's what I wrote on my
Converse in 8th grade.

Maybe it was the way
the feeling pulled me

like a girl
pulling a ponytail.

Maybe I didn't get the job
cause of the polka dots.

Maybe I don't care
cause of the wave.

Today I'm blue.
Tomorrow I could be anywhere.

All these pop songs about dying young
like it's gonna be so epic.

The only difference between 8th grade
and now is the blowing up

the use of color
& perspective.

Things that are with you
when you wake up

& you feel like
someone's there.

Same rainbows
under her eyes

clouds floating in the air.


About this poem

"When I wrote 'Manic Panic,' I was thinking about mass violence, about being a kid versus being an adult, about our culture's obsession with staying young forever contrasted with the reality of dying young in some form of violence or tragedy. There's so much focus all around us on the power and allure of youth, on 'stopping aging,' for women in particular, but this poem is about what happens to that power as you keep on living."
-Marisa Crawford

About Marisa Crawford

Marisa Crawford is the author of "The Haunted House" (Switchback Books, 2010). She lives in Brooklyn, N.Y.


*
The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day[at]poets.org.


(c) 2014 Marisa Crawford.
Distributed by King Features Syndicate


A TIP FOR WOMEN


Change your pillow case

What does changing your pillowcase have to do with health and beauty? Everything! Think of everything you use in your hair and on your face ... where do you think it goes at the end of the day? Change your pillowcase often -- about every other night is good -- to prevent breakouts.


JOKES


Barbecue?

As the coals from our barbecue burned down, our hosts passed out marshmallows and long roasting forks.

Just then, two fire trucks roared by, sirens blaring, lights flashing. They stopped at a house right down the block.

All twelve of us raced out of the back yard, down the street, where we found the owners of the blazing house standing by helplessly.

They glared at us with looks of disgust.

Suddenly, we realized why.........we were all still holding our roasting forks with marshmallows on them...


Swimming Lesson

A member of the Country Club asked the lifeguard how he might go about teaching a young lady to swim.

"It takes considerable time and technique." replied the guard. "First you must take her into the water, then place one arm about her waist, hold her tightly, then take her right arm and raise it very slowly..."

"This is certainly most helpful." said the member. "I know that my kid sister will appreciate it."

"Your sister?" said the lifeguard. "In that case, just push her into the deep end of the pool. She'll learn in a hurry."

Tidbits

"To celebrate the 30th anniversary of the moon landing President Bush met with Neil Armstrong. There was one odd moment when President Bush said, 'I hear you're doing well in that Tour de France.'" --Conan O'Brien

---

After examining a woman the doctor took the husband aside, and said, "I don't like the looks of your wife at all."

"Me neither doc," said the husband, "but she's a great cook and really good with the kids.

---

"My son's into extreme sports, my daughter's into extreme makeovers, and my husband's into extreme denial."

Insurance

A client called to report an accident and ask if her insurance rates would go up.

"Our underwriting department determines that", I said. Then I asked for her license number. Verifying her information, I asked, "NMF? Is that N as in Nancy, M as in Mary, and F as in Frank?"

"Well... yes," she said. "But could you please tell your underwriters that it's also N as in Not, M as in My, and F as in fault?"

Computer Virus Humor

Recently, the "Love Bug" Virus circled the globe, damaging computers in it's path. There have recently been some new mutations or variationsof this virus that you should be aware of.

* The "I Love You, But I'm Shy" virus never actually invades your computer, but collects data about it worshipfully from afar.

* The "Love The One You're With" virus hangs around your computer, but the whole thing is just temporary until it can find the computer that it really wants to invade.

* The "Happily Married" virus invades only one computer and stays with it for life.

* The "Unhappily Married" virus spends a long time negotia- ting with a computer, finally invades it, and then strays to other computers from time to time.

* The "I Want A Divorce" virus sends repeated, hard-to-read messages that your computer isn't working and takes half of your computer's best data in an ugly network session.

* The "Stalker" virus spends unnatural amounts of time monitoring your computer, collecting data your computer has thrown away and tries to record all of its functions. And it writes rude messages to any other computer with which yours connects on any regular basis.

* The "Forever Single" virus causes your computer to focus solely on other computers with which it is totally incompatible or prove generally unavailable.

* The "Deadbeat" virus invades your computer, spawns an entirely new database, then refuses to help update it as it grows.


HAVE A DAZZLING THURSDAY!

Eden’s Weeds (Andrew Crawford)


“seed buried somewhere six feet deep beneath dry bones
and brittle debris, lost in all of eden's weeds” Andrew Crawford

<><>><>
you tripped exploring mine own eden's weeds,
more precisely, tripped me up, your poring over,
my one hundred year old poems, flawed, by
many spilled tears, aged old, for and over them,
and now, once again, je vous réponds s'il vous plait

this poem planned, title chosen, well before you
exercised my memories, disinterring by your fingers,
(surprise!} but the content you also now provided,
@ ten to midnight, your privacy invasion, a very fine
sleep deprivation excuse to compose one more time

who knows, perhaps this next one could be ”flawless”^
not likely though, flawless never found amidst the weeds
though in Eden chances are, chances are, not impossible,
for that’s the place where slow, simple songs get replayed,
celebrating lovers of life, its pleasant harmonies, go figure

over, over again, like a rolling stone, until friction finally wins,
yes ”my own chosen speed”^ is a-slowing, direction home, finally,
the mosses occluding new words and combinations, concealed,
like a moss, got no roots, birthed by shedding spores airborne,
my new old poems, plucked from air, words passing by in phrases

your phrase,
eden’s weeds,
hit my irises,
insisting it deserved,
instant cognition,
two words,
demanding special education,
accolade recognition,
perhaps if I
stick around,
for a few more poems,
I’ll learn to write
as beautiful as you.

I saw the Maori Jesus
Walking on Wellington Harbour.
He wore blue dungarees,
His beard and hair were long.
His breath smelled of mussels and paraoa.
When he smiled it looked like the dawn.
When he broke wind the little fishes trembled.
When he frowned the ground shook.
When he laughed everybody got drunk.

The Maori Jesus came on shore
And picked out his twelve disciples.
One cleaned toilets in the railway station;
His hands were scrubbed red to get the **** out of the pores.
One was a call-girl who turned it up for nothing.
One was a housewife who had forgotten the Pill
And stuck her TV set in the ******* can.
One was a little office clerk
Who'd tried to set fire to the Government Buldings.
Yes, and there were several others;
One was a sad old quean;
One was an alcoholic priest
Going slowly mad in a respectable parish.

The Maori Jesus said, 'Man,
From now on the sun will shine.'

He did no miracles;
He played the guitar sitting on the ground.

The first day he was arrested
For having no lawful means of support.
The second day he was beaten up by the cops
For telling a dee his house was not in order.
The third day he was charged with being a Maori
And given a month in Mt Crawford.
The fourth day he was sent to Porirua
For telling a ***** the sun would stop rising.
The fifth day lasted seven years
While he worked in the Asylum laundry
Never out of the steam.
The sixth day he told the head doctor,
'I am the Light in the Void;
I am who I am.'
The seventh day he was lobotomised;
The brain of God was cut in half.

On the eighth day the sun did not rise.
It did not rise the day after.
God was neither alive nor dead.
The darkness of the Void,
Mountainous, mile-deep, civilised darkness
Sat on the earth from then till now.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right

in the supposedly post-racial united states of america

the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity.

black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency.

stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy

post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others-

these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed.

more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets.

"think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth.

but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?'

I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore.

does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free?

In a sick way it almost makes sense

that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved

that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain.

the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed.

our shackles are now student loans;

plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.

maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us.

miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.


but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."  

our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever.

and and fourteen and something isn't right

in the supposedly post-racial united states of america

the only thing this society seems to be is post humanity.

black americans are routinely treated with barely a shred of human decency.

stripped of our agency under the iron fist of white supremacy

post the cold blooded murders of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Eric Garner, Kimane Gray, John Crawford, and countless others-

these are the strange fruits that hang from our nation’s poplar trees.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. or is it nineteen sixty four? many a time I have opened the morning paper to see headlines that would not be out of place in that era of bloodshed.

more care given to a cotton cloth flag than to the black bodies that lie battered and broken in the streets.

"think of the businesses!" they scream, mouths afroth.

but won't anyone think of the black children murdered for carrying BB Guns? won't anyone think of the fathers? the mothers? the sons and daughters whose lives are cut short by those who are supposed to 'protect and serve?'

I will stop "making this about race" when the police stop giving me reason to fear for my life simply for existing. it is not enough to be peaceful and innocent anymore.

does this conversation upset you? can you not cope with these atrocities that go on every day in your precious land of the free?

In a sick way it almost makes sense

that in a nation built from nothing upon the backs of the enslaved

that it would take a bit longer than a hundred and fifty years to stop feeling the pain.

the whips and chains that once bound us were not broken, but merely transformed.

our shackles are now student loans;

plantations were exchanged for privatized prisons and lynch mobs now wear blue uniforms.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.

maybe it’s got something to do with the way that all people seem to care about nowadays is iggy azalea’s new hit single but not the way that white rappers want to be black so badly up until it’s time to fight for us. to march with us. to die with us.

miley cyrus can prance around onstage fetishizing black bodies like modern day hottentot venuses but when black bodies are being violated by the police she’s strangely silent.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right.


but there is a light that shines through this darkness. that light is within me, and you, and within the hearts of every single man and woman of all colors and creeds who raises their fists and says "No more."  

our fight is not over. the road will be long. it is very possible that more will die along the way.  but their deaths will not be in vain.

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right. but it will not be this way forever.

When the world is in trouble and theres nowhere left to turn.
Well your **** outta luck till then theres the Gonzo report.

Live from hidden location in a Florida basment broadcasting
now it's time for the Gonzo report.
With your team of in depth and seldom sane news team.

Your anchor man Gonzo   co Anchor that Batsheba
weather chick Neva finally gotta mention Flores.
Sports with your favorite ****** Richard Shepard.

And then theres Paula Swanson  who's sitting on my other side
I dont really know why  but eveyone likes Paula so who gives a *****.
Who wants a sandwhich im just saying.
And are field reporters Jeremy Wyatt,Chris Smith,And Mr E,

This just in.
A old man lost control of his car running over 17 people
and seriously ******* off one dwarf.
And if your keeping track at home kids it's old farts 20 crazy texting while driving teen *****   15.

Theres big trouble in Cairo kiddies  with more  no the situation
are own version  of snooky Bathsheba   take it away.
the camera zooms into  the   queen of Hello.
I swear to God Gonzo if  dont back the **** up i will knife you
you crazy *******  and put some ****** pants on you ******.

Yes Bathsheba ******* the outside  and  kinda ****** all around as well
but enough with the foreplay children.
Oh look Paula made cookies!
Baths began here report on troubles that had befallen this country
And as i mixed a drink it made me wonder.
Were the **** is Eygpt.

Opps looks like i dropped my cookie.
Like a mighty ninja with a hot flash I was met with a searing
pain to my nose.
In the name of Cindy Crawford what was that for?

Thats for even thinking bout going under that table.
But .
No Baths replyed  then hit me again.
The pain the agony my modeling carear.

Now with coverage from the World Series  heres Richard Shepard
Richard Can you here us.
The cam camera  cut  to a shot of a monkey masterbaiting in the Bronx zoo.

Yes the production team of Goldie and Joel M Frye
when not watching hot oil dwarf  varsity wrestling death match
there top notch.

Richard  dear lord man were on air it's no time for that now.
This isnt Chris's  bachelor party.
That isnt Richard you ****** Baths  spoke in that charming yet
Voice that told me if i didnt stop I might get a free *** change
voice of her's.

And it's not the world Series you half wit it's the Superbowl.
No  wonder  there was no mention of the stanley cup.
Baths what do you not know.
So after i mixed another wild turkey and put a mirror under
Paula's nose to make sure she was still breathing.
I told her  the roofies really help with the nerves.

Finally The artist formely known as Jack Horner   was live on the screen  from some cult meeeting it appeared.
*** they've captured Fergie.
Richard take it away.

Well these ***** keeping fighting over this ball.    
Runnin back  and ****** forth its driving me ****** bonkers.
Oh yeah amigo I these knickers ya asked for.
Richard held a pair of black *******  to the camera yeah
smell of  no talent  and overproduced songs.
dam you slash.

Back in the studio.
Ummm haha well i didnt ask him to steal anyones *******.
Paula broke the awkward silence i dont wanna go to school.
Paula you alright?
***** you John Travolta.

Ok well also at the world series of poker Jeremy Wyatt and he's got a special guest Taylor Swift.
Great god of the traveling  flying squirrell monkeys pants.
anything but her.

Screaming like a naughty little school girl with a  bad texting  habit
on a unlimted plan i dove underneath the news desk for it's better
die at the heels of Baths and a tap dancing kinda drugged Paula than   face a evil more sinister than Drew Dillegence or Ghandi  combined.

Jeremy was in the danger zone note even knowing it for beneath that
yummy little body layed the soul of satan  himself.

It was Nashvile  a few whiskey laced years ago  I was a drummer
for local sessions  she was 16 I.
well I wasnt.
you mix in some drugs s0me cars crashes knocking over a liquor store or two.  
That little hell cat had a thirst for danger  and some  lets just say
weird habbits   okay it was more like a curse.

Strange things happend to here past lovers.
John Mayer,  The gay cowboy from Broke Back Mountain  you know
that movie about the sinking ship, and that lesbian  from the Jonas Brothers.

Yes just as soon as she wrote a song you were good as dead.
You'd vanish to here secret torture chamber were her music played
non stop   and your blood was drained slowley so she could feed
her own talent or lack there of.

Jermy puzzled  hey Gonz you there Baths umm Paula ?
Underneath the saftey of are second hand news desk hey look gum.
huddled togather like three okay one drunk monkey and a passed out frat sister and a very ******* Baths please dont stab me im
fragile   like a aged bottle of good whiskey im just saying.

We gotta make a brake for it look Baths  you distract her im blowing this joint  like a long winded madman  on a five day binge
let loose on old country buffet.

Baths   spoke   in a  language  that was always a challenge  for me
called sanity.
Gonz if you dont let me out from under this desk.
Im going to rip your heart out and feed it to the  homless dwarfs.
And heres a napkin Paula's drooling on you.

I have a heart?

After a brief break.
And another check to make sure Paula was still breathing we
returned.
Dear lord where's Jeremy!

Screams could be herd Jesus Richard   it's no time for killing hookers
But 10 dollar beers  are a real kick in the ***.
Oh well Wyatts  gone he'll be missed.
this just in Taylor Swift to release her new single Why  Not  Jeremy!

Dear lord sweet sallys *** it was code she had taken him hostage
in the love of all things lady gaga  someone had to save my amigo.
except me  cause that ***** was crazy  and she's got a hell of a bite
im just saying  stay  strong   Jeremy  and think happy thought's

I could feel the ****** clamps and smell the burning flesh
from the car battery as we speak but enough  bout me and skeeters
personal life.

now its time for the weather with finally she's gotta mention Neva voice like a angel  Flores.
thanks Gonz that southern bombshell replyed okay in the south.

Alright Neva that was great  like i need to hear the weather.
I havent been outside in  seven years.

This just in Mr E  has been taken hostage in Cairo.
Well kids all i can say is as much as this hurts
we dont deal with terrorist  like we could raise a hundred bucks.

The bulletin came across the wire Raitch with a look of dont **** with me   Gonzo  although Pepples  thinks your okay in a ***** kinda pervert way.

All hells breaking loose  a all girls school for hot super models    
in trainng.
Baths  in shock and mock concern replyed oh dear lord.
I dont who has chops to cover such a story in short notice.
Raitch  Oh Baths I dont know either   ive herd  there ripping  each others clothes off   hair pulling its worse than a prison riot with
hot half naked strippers.

Baths kept speaking but in the name of chain gang women
i was lost deep in thought over ******* and world events
while downloading  pictures of Fergie eating a banana
what im a health nut okay.

Yeah I dont know who should go cover such a story right now hint.
Gonzo Baths and Ratich spoke like a tag team of terror hint!
Hey I should go shouldnt  I  ?

Yeah Gonz  ya think ?

With some ***** looks from the people who much like my family
wish id forget there names.
So they wouldnt have to join the witnness relocation program
i love it when they play hard to get.

Finally i was off the trusty Gonzo Report news van  waitting for me a bottle of wild turkey and some fine reading materials by that thinkers mag hustler waitting in the back.

There my amigos stood standing togather waving goodbye.
crying tears of joy hey is that a keg?
Chris on the turntables im beginnning to think it was a party.

But if Chris  was there just who was driving the Gonzo van!

The little dwarf laughed in glee as we flew threw town
like Charlie Sheen on a coke binge.
I was tossed around  like a beach ball at greatful dead concert
as finally   over the cliff the van flew.

There was a explosion that could be herd for at least a half a mile
course that was drowned out by the party.

The party was in full swing  finally Paula awoke.
Hey what the  hell happend and why is Trimman
******* my leg?

                                  
                                  Is Gonzo really Dead?  
    
    Will Jeremy Wyatt ever escape the *** dungeon of Taylor Swift.
                    
                        Will Richard Shepard ever put out a book
                        how kick lots of **** yet win the hearts of millions
                        and do a co write with lady GaGa and Mel Gibson?


                    Will Neva Flores  get ****** over her five second
                     mention hunt me down  and torture me for hours
                     im just saying  a girls got needs.


                    Will Paula Swanson  kick Trimman like a field goal
                                                    or just pass back out?

               Find out in the next action packed trillogy  called
                                          The Death Of Gonzo  

                       Untill  Next Time Stay Crazy Kids

Your Wreath, Un-Thrifting Essence, bears his Name
And Fine be your Acts soothe such Heavy Hand
Which Time boost as his Protector and Sage
Skimming the Dirt infect his Rising Sand
Though one would Wonder why such Blogger speak
Of Secrets known must bequeath to the Few
Though in your Boy's Best Fate subdue the Meek
Out of Best Concern his Wild Growth does stew
So persistent be our same Wonder at
Those Keys deserved should never be Endorsed
For his own Respect; As ours Mature that
Let the Gentleman go if his Plays be Forced.
My Loyalty, still, Un-Conditioned will be
Though Swords still stab on such Smile you Reprieve.

Then again, your Trek for the World resume
Since Two Million Tweets placed your Scales on Top
For the Plym's Fine Arts deny their Bid consume
By Theories bid on your Commitments flop
Though demanding may be your Prime Support
Which most would Bellow your Extracted Youth
Would one Understand these Issues report
Beyond such Volumes of your Weaning Truth
After all, Tweens do tend to Toast the Shows
Then let Moralled Queries compound Debate
Since Youth the Adult's Pad much Air would blow
Then burst borne Viruses and Flies too late.
Such they Prevent - your Groupie's Quarantine
To Sand your Frame preserve Smooth and Pristine.

‬

I
This is the night mail crossing the Border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,

Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner, the girl next door.

Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.

Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,

Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.

Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches.

Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course;
They slumber on with paws across.

In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes.

II
Dawn freshens, Her climb is done.
Down towards Glasgow she descends,
Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes
Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen.
All Scotland waits for her:
In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs
Men long for news.

III
Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or to visit relations,
And applications for situations,
And timid lovers' declarations,
And gossip, gossip from all the nations,
News circumstantial, news financial,
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in,
Letters with faces scrawled on the margin,
Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts,
Letters to Scotland from the South of France,
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Written on paper of every hue,
The pink, the violet, the white and the blue,
The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring,
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring,
Clever, stupid, short and long,
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong.

IV
Thousands are still asleep,
Dreaming of terrifying monsters
Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston's or Crawford's:

Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh,
Asleep in granite Aberdeen,
They continue their dreams,
But shall wake soon and hope for letters,
And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart,
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

To let your Heart pour for Opinion's sake
Be that my Sore Own apply much Respect
And the way your Letter transformed your Make:
The Adamant Mum etched in Dad's Aspect
Which his Bright Shield, polished for his Survive
Cause his Deliverance for Angles serve
For his Efforts shown affixed his Love revive
And share his Dream of his own Plays deserve
Though Performance be his Method-of-Doubt
Such what Limping Thespians were prone to have
So to permit his Stripping Baskets have caught
Is to License the Giggolo he has.
Yet the Mum you are, all Rights reserved his Skin
By Instinct's Phase, uphold his Life so Thin.

-If I were *****, who would I choose?

The lovely Edmund treated her kind
Indeed, kind he was in her mind
He was protective of her
His words were of comfort
She doted on him so much
That seeing him with another depressed her

The charming Henry grew fond of her
On her gentleness and modesty he dwelled
In her modest and elegant manners, he found charm
There was a sweetness to her which felt warm
And Henry was seduced by such gentleness
He found her timidity so delightful
That for her, he harboured feelings so soon

Yet in *****’s innocent eyes
Crawford’s flirtations led to his own demise
Not indifferent to what seemed to be sincere efforts
He forcing his love on her however proved just worse
She was too much convinced of his pretence
In his endeavour, she found not grace but nonsense
His unsteadiness
Her ineffable kindness
They were too much different
On such belief, she wouldn’t be bent

On the other hand
There stood Edmund, oh dear Edmund
He cared about her so deeply
But his attachment was merely brotherly
Knowing such truth saddened her immensely
Yet she’d rather be with him as a sister
Than not be with him at all
He was too virtuous to be deceived

The goodness of her heart dictated to choose none
Poor Edmund was blinded by Mary’s doings
As calculated as they were, they promised sufferings
Edmund could think of no woman but Mary to be his wife
His idea of her was exceedingly flattering; what a plight
A hurt ***** could not change his mind
Her unwavering support never left his side

And the proud Henry Crawford
What to say of his ardent courtship?
At some point, vulnerable ***** could fall for him
But she never did, not even once
He changed for her in manners and words
But to defy one’s true nature would be to lie to oneself
Temptations so strong
In the presence of an interested Mrs Rushworth
Needless to say; his true colours showed, infidelity ensued

In the end, who to choose?
If I were in *****’s shoes
It certainly wouldn’t be Henry
Such a **** doesn’t deserve a pure soul like *****
Though I don’t doubt that he truly fell for her
He ruined all chances of being with her
His incessant words of love were received with pain
He tried to win her affection in vain
But to try to gain a girl’s heart with flowery talks
This is an unwise move, it is too much

Thank God, Edmund realised his error in the end
But can he redeem himself when he showed so poor a judgement?
I doubt so; and I dare question his change of heart
His infatuation for Mary faded, and his love for ***** grew so fast
Does it even make sense to have one’s eyes opened that fast?
I dare answer in the negative
This said, none of them deserve *****
If I were *****, I’d choose none...

-15/05/10

Hey Kids ever wonder why people are such a pain in the ****?
Well thats usally cause they have to work for a living and unless
your in **** that really ***** well I guess in that field you get paid to ****.
But enough about what certain people I cant mention do in there free time
im just saying.

And ever wonder kids why your parents are so ******* uptight?
Duh its cause befor you  mom and pop used to be total freaks.
Now Pop is lucky if he gets at least once a month from moms sister.
Yeah thats why they invented hookers I know what a ******* .

But enough about global warming cause really I just live here on the planet.
Why should I care about it?
Some people often ask me.
Gonzo dont you think you should put the bottle down and give up the drugs and *****
strippers?

Hmm yeah probaly when hell freezes over and hopefully it does cause I have never
looked forward to moving to a warmer climate.
Yeah sure I could stop being a party animal and ****** with a heart of gold.
But **** that duh then what would I write about?
Being misreble like everyone else really doesnt sound all that fun.

Hey ever wonder if im really insane as you belive.
Well just send me a key to your house and find out.

One time when  was but a young little Gonzo.
I stole Grandmas credit card and tried to hire a ******
for *** ed  class I always was a more hands on student myself .
Yeah it would have worked  if that old *****  hadnt noticed it gone

Thanks Granny you totally ruined a kickass party.
Its okay she talks to the wall in the old folks home now.
Im kidding  like id waste that sweet social security check on a home.

She's doing just fine in the shed out back ****** that reminds me i gotta
feed her and take her to the park for a good run yeah I know im all
heart except fro the rest of me.

You know I think it's unfair hookers never give discounts.
Hey look every other company does even ******* subway.
Yeah the footlong isnt really a footlong  some people really
dont know what to do with a tape messure.

Hey remember its not the size that matters yeah news flash
if she ses its a good size then locks herself in the bathroom
for a hour and you hear a motor going off as the lights dim
on the whole dam block .
Well women lie  just like men except way better.

Sometimes I like to get really ****** up
I know your shocked.

Ever wonder why weirdos love to hunt ufo's and bigfoot?
Duh you cant live off star treck reruns alone.

Some people think im a pervert and a drunk and a womanizer.
And a drug addict well and a sick ******* as well.
Words they really hurt well at least to people who give a *****.
Sure they said alot of good things about me but they also left out a charming
mispelling half wit duh what *******.

You know sometimes I think.
Hey it could happen.

Just remember kids whatever you think of me.
If you dont have a sense of humor you'll ******* hurt yourself.
That and Gonzo loves you all and especially if your hot.
And if you have any pics send em to www.learntotakeafuckingjoke.com

Untill next time hampsters.
Remember that little bump on some chicks face aint a beauthy
mark its probaly ******.

Dam you Cindy Crawford well at least i'll never forget you.
Im kidding she a good girl it was just the clap.

Stay crazy Gonzo

Loony-Toothed Blogger, your Trussled Pen spite
Save to spike such Heart plombed by Heresy
That Heresy be Truth pin proves Delight
Come Trenching Escapades grip his Fantasy
Though permit his Trade be for Answers meet
And fill Sore Minds his Clients satisfy
Preach Hearts for Profits; His Code on the Street
Would squeeze such Scandal from his Salsify
Be there Room then for your ardent Refuge
For you as one seeks his Innards to Change
For Betterment's House shut Public's Confuse
And let your Person enjoy his own Range.
His Arrows be his choose his Portents bend
Though Blame blunt his Skies by Penance amend.

What I am trying to say is,
I am well aware that it matters not whether I am with or without you;
I will keep moving,
but I much prefer your limbs with my limbs,
and I enjoy the tragedy you think makes you unable to be loved,
and I'm sorry I didn't touch you a little bit longer,
and when you're here I feel it,
and when you're not I feel it too.

by : Alexandra Crawford

Let’s pay homage to many innocent black lives that were taken by
the corrupt system:  Martin Luther King Jr.  Malcom X.  Emmett Till.  George Stinney.  Will Brown.  Sandra Bland.  Trayvon Martin.  Ahmaud Arbery.  Breonna Taylor. George Floyd.  David McAtee.  Natosha “Tony” McDade.  Yassin Mohamed.  Finan H. Berhe.  Sean Reed.  Steven Demarco Taylor.  Ariane McCree.  Terrance Franklin.  Miles Hall.  Darius Tarver.  William Green.  Samuel David Mallard.  Kwame “KK” Jones.  De’von Bailey.  Christopher Whitfield.  Anthony Hill.  Eric Logan.  Jamarion Robinson.  Gregory Hill Jr.  JaQuavion Slaton.  Ryan Twyman.  Brandon Webber.  Jimmy Atchison.  Willie McCoy.  Emantic “Ej” Fitzgerald Bradford Jr.  D’ettrick Griffin.  Jemel Roberson.  DeAndre Ballard.  Botham Shem Jean.  Robert Lawrence White.  Anthony Lamar Smith.  Ramarley Graham.  Manuel Loggins Jr.  Wendell Allen.  Kendrec McDade.  Larry Jackson Jr.  Jonathan Ferrell.  Jordan Baker.  Victor White III.  Dontre Hamilton.  Eric Garner.  John Crawford III.  Michael Brown.  Ezell Ford.  Dante Parker.  Kajieme Powell.  Laquan McDonald.  Akai Gurley.  Tamir Rice.  Rumain Brisbon.  Tony Robinson.  Mario Woods.  Quintonio LeGrier.  Gregory Gunn.  Akiel Denkins.  Alton Sterling.  Philando Castile.  Terrance Sterling.  Terrence Crutcher.  Keith Lamont Scott.  Alfred Olango.  Jordan Edwards.  Stephon Clark.  Danny Ray Thomas.  Dejuan Guillory.  Patrick Harmon.  Jonathan Hart.  Maurice Granton.  Julius Johnson.  Jamee Johnson.  Michael Dean.  Keith Childress.  Bettie Jones.  Kevin Matthews.  Michael Noel.  Leroy Browning.  Leroy Nelson.  Miguel Espinal.  Nathaniel Pickett.  Tiara Thomas.  Cornelius Brown.  Jamal Clark.  Richard Perkins.  Michael Lee Marshall.  Alonzo Smith.  Anthony Ashford.  Dominic Hutchinson.  Lamontez Jones.  Rayshaun Cole.  Paterson Brown.  Christopher Kimble.  Junior Prosper.  Keith McLeod.  Wayne Wheeler.  Lavante Biggs.  India Kager.  Tyree Crawford.  James Carney.  Felix Kumi.  Asshams Manley.  Christian Taylor.  Troy Robinson.  Brian Day.  Michael Sabbie.  Billy Ray Davis.  Samuel Dubose.  Darrius Stewart.  Albert Davis.  Salvado Ellswood.  George Mann.  Jonathan Sanders.  Freddie Blue.  Victo Larosa.  Spencer McCain.  Kevin Bajoie.  Zamiel Crawford.  Jermaine Benjamin.  Kris Jackson.  Kevin Higgenbotham.  Ross Anthony.  Richard Gregory Davis.  Curtis Jordan.  Markus Clark.  Lorenzo Hayes.  De’Angelo Stallsworth.  Dajuan Graham.  Brandon Glenn.  Reginald Moore.  Nuwnah Laroche.  Jason Champion.  Bryan Overstreet.  David Felix.  Terry Lee Chatman.  William Chapman.  Samuel Harrell.  Freddie Gray.  Norman Cooper.  Brian Acton.  Darrell Brown.  Frank Shephard III.  Walter Scott.  Donald “Dontay” Ivy.  Eric Harris.  Phillip White.  Dominick Wise.  Jason Moland.  Bobby Gross.  Denzel Brown.  Brandon Jones.  Askari Roberts.  Terrance Moxley.  Anthony Hill.  Bernard Moore.  Naeschylus Vinzant.  Tony Robinson.  Charly Leundeu “Africa” Keunang.  Darrell Gatewood.  Deontre Dorsey.  Thomas Allen Jr.  Lavall Hall.  Calvon Reid.  Gerdie Moise.  Terry Price.  Natasha McKenna.  Jeremy Lett.  Kevin Garrett.  Alvin Haynes.  Artago Damon Howard.  Tiano Meton.  Andre Larone Murphy Sr.  Leslie Sapp.  Brian Pickett.  Frank Smart.  Matthew Ajibade.

There are so many more that have died at the hands of the prejudice system.  All of you will never be forgotten.  Your legacy will forever live on.  Rest in Paradise to the fallen angels.

One Sunday night  a drunken man went down the streets about three sheets in the wind and bumped against a tree. Thinking he had hit a man, he backed off, took off his hat, and said,"scuse me,sir- scuse me." He staggered on a few steps, struck a man, and courtesied again, before staggering away.
A neighbor came along, seeing him stumble against a fence."Why, William! You need to go to revivals with me."
Accordingly the two set out for the meeting held at the nearby church, all the while William recalling what a hypocrite the deacon was.
Making his way down the aisle he threw himself on the pew beside the disgusted looking deacon, while Neighbor Jones took the bench behind.
As deacon Goodwench rolled his eyes in horror, William grinned and winked at him.
Presently the evangelist came to an eloquent Biblical passage and called, "Where is the drunkard?"
Whereupon William rose, folded his arms, and shouted,"Here's the sot. Blaze away," and proceeded to stand at his pew till the evangelist finished the verse.
The Reverend Crawford came to another Biblical passage and called out, "Where is the hypocrite?"
Nobody moved and you could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly William arose,reached over and gave Deacon Goodwench a rough nudge in his side. "Get up and take your med'chine,< Goodwench! Likes I did when he called me..."

(By Sir William Topaz Crawford-McGonagall, Poet and Tragedian, Grand Knight of the Pink Garter)*

'Twas a Monday morning, in late February
When the clouds were covering London, thick, dark and heavy
(A beautiful city, when the sun is shining,
But not if it rains when people are out dining)

And waking up in the morning and looking at the sky
I felt quite sad, and moved to sigh
Because not only was the weekend over
(Which, having to go to work, I easily did discover)

But alas! the darkness made to sink my mood
(And that was not very good
For being in a low mood takes away my joy
And makes me feel like a grumpy and unhappy boy)

An Lo! The forecast was for more to come
Until Saturday or Sunday, at least, no chance to see the sun
I tried to think of things to do
Which would, perhaps, make me feel a little less blue

Despairing of the weather, I set to work
(Because in order to earn money to pay the bills, one must not shirk)
And bent like a Trojan to my labours
Hoping that happiness would be repaid as a favour

And slowly - oh joy and great day! - my mood it turned
And the harder I worked, the brighter it burned
So now I do not worry about the weekend
Because after the week which it subsequently sends
Another weekend itself there appends
And it all seems to work out quite well in the end