An Ode from My Humble Abode to Papito Juan

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Thanks to you all!

My birthday was a social media ball

Your acknowledgement of this old coot
Has me contemplating
Donning a suit

For those who know me well
This portends I am feeling swell

My most humblest of affections granted

On this blessed day I have not raged and ranted

As with Earth’s fiery core

And ever evolving state
I am burning energy radiantly as a bee-hive at eighty-eight

Content in my tortured mind
I will dream of times gone by

As I retire to sleep
Savoring that last loverly snuggle

My dreams beckon forward

Papito Juan

The human embodiment of elan!

The Family Stalwart

Of the Castillo-Luna Clan

On with the struggle!

The Daily Paper

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Oh! What joyeth!

And bedevilment

Bringeth to I

Bought and paid for on Kitty’s dime

The dalliance of the daily paper!

My earliest morn strolling the street

For the Daily News deliveries

To Sweet Mother I still savor!

Though the withering Times

Can be beguiling

And emotions oft flourish!

And at other black lines

Feelings taper!

I shalt forever more endeavor

To rejoice in the effervescent ether

And suck in the voluminous vapors

Of Life!

My most fortuitous caper!

Bon Voyage!

Let their be a good poem hidden

Somewhere inside the old facade

Interpreting the cause!

Providence doth not grant my faculties

To drift e’er into the hifalutin habitat

Via the external bombastic unlettered

Majestically Morbid!

Make America Great Again world

Of the colloquial slip-shod!

Memoriam for Max

 

 

Max

Max, our adopted maltese/poodle, died today; he was struck down by a car in front of our home.

The Reith Family has lost one of its members.

My wife Eva came home with Max one day after what was to be a simple shopping trip at Pathmark. She was approached by a lady who could not take care of the little puppy.

When Eva presented him to me for the first time he was a scruffy unkempt dog with fleas and a matted dirty coat. After giving him the full bath and combing treatment we saw there was more to him than met the eye on first inspection. It turned out he had a pearly white coat, once cleaned. He even walked with a regal gait. A very fine specimen of a dog and cute in a dog-like way.

He was three months old. Very active. The puppy loved playing and biting everything. A real boy dog!

Immediately it was apparent that he did not take well to commands.

He was not housebroken and it took months and a lot of patience before he finally learned to do his business outside.

He was filled with anxiety and had a definite stubborn streak.

It was our custom to let our dogs run outside in our backyard from time to time without a leash. Max had, on more than a few occasions, ran out to the front of the house. He had found a hole in the fence of our yard and exploited it to run in the adjacent yards behind my backyard.

Our neighbors complained of seeing him prancing up the street.

When I would go to get him he would rarely listen to my commands. He would just prance away from me.

Seeming to revel in my inability to catch him. He would traverse the block before he would finally enter back into the yard.

I warned my wife and kids that one day he would get hit by a car. There is a lot of traffic on our street.

The last few months of Max’s life saw a big change in his personality.

He had been able to finally rid himself of much of the restless anxiety that characterized his first few months with us.

He had relaxed knowing that he was in a loving family.

He loved playing with our female dog, Millie, a bit older than he. Inexplicably, he developed a close relationship with our cat Kittums, too. They would rassle for hours in the mornings and then lie down next to each other after tiring out from their battles.

Max and Kittums always followed me each morning after I awoke. They would follow me down to the kitchen as I went to prepare coffee and breakfast. Knowing that I would prepare their meals as well.

He had really developed a close relationship with I. Following me wherever I went up and down the stairs. He always wanted to be with me.

He even seemed to be listening to commands better. He was learning.

Max was hit by a car today.

When I got to him his body was lifeless in the street.

We rushed him to the animal hospital.

He died in my arms along the way as we were driving. His little face looking up into my eyes. Just like my previous dog Mindy did when I was a teenager. The doctor said he had sustained massive chest injuries from the accident.

Somehow, I cannot shake the feeling that I had failed him.

Max died today. As I sat in the animal hospital in Flatbush awaiting the forms for his body to be cremated.

The realization came upon me that I knew this day would happen.

The combination of my allowing my dogs to run free in my backyard and Max wanting to do things his way in the end was a lethal one.

He had been learning but we had run out of time.

I will forever miss my little Max. And the memories that could have been that were so suddenly struck down on this chilly April 2nd, 2015 evening.

Patriotic Phonies Ride Painted U.S. Flag Ponies

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Patriotic Phonies

Ride U.S. Flag Painted Ponies

Who needs to take the vaccine?

Baloney!

Refuse the shot and be one of our Capitol seizing macaronis!

National Security Concerns!

Trump Cult!
Remember that?

Hillary’s deleted e-mails?

We will make sure Herd Immunity can never avail!

Then we will crow supremely in the know

How your President has failed!

Mined from the ether to mind

A Salem Witchcraft fireside chat

From Fox television/ radio/ email

Cutting quick to the pale!

Conspiracy theories!

New quack medicines!

Our politicians ain’t really politicians! Tomfoolery!

All we shall begat!

We shalt all drink from the blood

Of the coveted religion/ party/ money/ superiority-first

Deep State Cup!

Then we can begin

The boisterous chants of:

Lock Him Up!

I’ve Had a Bad Bad Day

 

 

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Woke up this morning

Looking for money

To go to the store

Hit my knee

On my old black and white T.V.

Happy Feelings

Was no more!

Checked in my billet

Needed bacon in my skillet

No dough?

O.K. here we go!

That’s the end of my day

Chillin’

Went To the bank

Gave a letter to this customer service crank

It read

“Up the dough!”

“I ain’t playing no more!”

“Banksters gangster fittin’ to be robbin’ the store”

Screamed at the top of my lungs

“Everyone get down!”

“Don’t be acting a clown”

That’s wassup!

Not one damn hiccup

Or I’ll blast this whole damn town!

Now I got’s one clear demand

Stop the Income Inequality in Uncle Sam!

Let me turn up!

This here middle-class mike

I’ll Let You Go

Back To Your Home

Just Press Down On the “Like”

A Boeing 737 Max Free Market Frankenstein Flight Plan

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The Free Market Frankenstein speaker says:

Boeing is an economic deity!

No Regulations in our Individualized Society!

Piety is not the same as Safety!

The Highest Law of our Beloved Invisible Hand is Propriety!

Profits over People!

Take a proper gander at our White House Golden Steeple!

Work hard and pray for your Material Blessings!

This should relieve any public anxiety!

The Mueller Report Cover-Up

 

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The Cover-Up
First you provide AG Barr “findings” as the evidence fluff

Stressing the point The Emperor was found with clothes!

And not as expected in the buff

Then you instruct your Republican and Trump Cult team to intervene

Baying to the Moon!

About the loons
Who have swooned and crooned
Evil aspirations against our man

Treating our Trump Crown
As Charlie Brown

The general gist being it overly rough

Intimate innocently that you plan on going over The Mueller Report

To redact so as the Special Counsel cannot put back
Revise so as any logical person will surmise it is as AG Barr summarized
Submit drip by drip
To tamper all enthusiasm as to the findings of the script

And then above all
When the clarion call goes out for transparency!
Rebuff! Rebuff! Rebuff!

Finally what had seemed in the beginning

A proposition that would have been considered patently absurd!

The general public will not clamor to read every word?

We have corralled the Herd!

The Young Hurler and The Circle Change

 

 

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I can remember those days when I was young and the starting pitcher for my Little League team: That feeling of responsibility that I felt as the umpire bellowed, “Batter Up!” as I stood on the pitchers mound ready to begin the ball game.

As I warmed up, I would look around at the infielders and outfielders throwing baseballs and playing pepper with each other and I would feel that same nervous sensation. “Oh Boy,  It’s all on me. I better get this ball over the plate.”

You see, I had a pretty decent fastball and I could throw a fairly “nasty” slider when it was in the strike zone. The problem, though, was my control. It was terrible.

There were times when I would feel like I was in a Bugs Bunny cartoon as I kept throwing heaters all over the place and the opposing team was doing their version of a Conga Line around the bases.

The frustration would set in after each “Ball Four!” call by the umpire. Leaving me muttering to myself and wishing I could shrink and find an anthill somewhere to crawl in and hide. Unfortunately for me, the only hill available was the pitchers mound that I was standing on and my whole team was looking at with sheer desperation.

A starting pitcher for a baseball team is arguably the most responsible position that any youngster can play in any sport.

No other position leaves you as vulnerable; where you can lose the whole game before anyone else on your team has even made a play; that feeling of leaving your teammates powerless and quite angry as they watch the opposing team walk their way around the bases while runs are added up.

It is essential for a pitcher to be able to control his pitches. The ability to throw your pitches for strikes will lead to greater confidence, less anxiety, and that favorite compliment of all pitchers: the young hurler showing poise on the mound.

Proper mechanics are certainly a big part of the equation which should also be studied. The ability to repeat the same motion each time one throws a pitch is of the utmost importance. Whether that pitch is a fastball, curve, slider or change-up. A pitcher must be able to execute his pitches. Especially when there are two strikes on a batter. This is the optimal time for a pitcher to use his “nasty” pitch.

Once a pitcher leaves himself the maximum wiggle room, by getting ahead of the count 0-2, which means you started out by getting two strikes on the batter, they are in an infinitely more commanding position.

Now you can throw that nasty slider or fastball with ultra conviction knowing you have 4 more chances in front of you before you get to ball four.

The key is to be able to get yourself in that 0-2 position. While you may have proper mechanics you will never get there without control. Control is the ability to throw strikes consistently or Pitchers Heaven!

I thought I would never get there and it would always be a struggle for me out there on the pitchers mound.

One day, while I was reading the N.Y. Daily News, I came across an article by Pat Zachry, a starting pitcher for the N.Y. Mets.

He was an older pitcher who used to win with a high octane fastball but now claimed to be even better because he had learned a new pitch the Circle Change. His record since learning the Circle Change was impressive and the article had diagrams which showed how to throw the pitch.

The Circle Change is an easy pitch to emulate. Instead of using your thumb, second finger ,and middle finger which you use to throw a fastball: You use your thumb, and last two fingers to grip the ball, excluding your second and third fingers and throw it the same exact way as you would throw your fastball. Your arm motion and pitching mechanics are the exactly the same, also.

This pitch is incredibly easy to control!

I was able to learn it quickly and consistently get it over the plate for strikes and get ahead of batters. Plus, because your pitching mechanics and arm motion don’t change, it will naturally fool the batter, who will think you are throwing him a fastball.

My Circle Change also had a late dip on it which caused the batters to hit a lot of choppers back to me on the mound. I would catch the slow moving ground balls easily and throw out the runners at first base. Additionally, I was getting ahead of the batters in the strike count by starting out my first two pitches with Circle Changes.

Once ahead, I could “put them away ” with a fastball or slider!

Your fastball will look much faster to a batter once they have been exposed to a Circle Change pitch.

I became way more relaxed almost dare I say “poised”after mastering the Circle Change. I could use my fastball and slider to get the out once ahead in the count.

This one pitch made me way more effective as a Little League pitcher. I started to get picked for All-Star teams after I learned the Circle Change.

I was the man, now!

The Circle Change also has the added benefit of putting much less stress on a youngster”s arm which will prevent injuries.

There have been countless cases of young “phenoms” who “blew out” their arms before they were out of High School.

Throwing a steady diet of fastballs and curve balls can take a dangerous toll on a youngsters arm.

For parents, this fact alone is all that is necessary to show how beneficial this pitch, the Circle Change, can be to youngsters. The added benefit is they will exhibit a much greater propensity for throwing strikes while making their other pitches seem even nastier.

Growing up a Yankee fan it is quite ironic that I learned this “game changing” pitch from an ex-Met player named Pat Zachry.

It made me a much better pitcher and baseball player and will do the same for any young pitcher. I highly recommend all fathers to teach their kids this pitch.

They will have greater control of their pitches, much more effectiveness which will in turn raise their confidence and poise on the mound while simultaneously protecting their young arms from serious injury.

Once your child has mastered the Circle Change they will always be itching for the umpire to say the words, “Batter Up!”

The Swordfish and The Amistad

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“Now All Shall Bow and Obey My Rules on This Ship!”

Bellowed the overbearing Captain Crook

With that he ordered everyone out onto the deck

In the pouring rain

The swells rocking the boat

As if going from mountain to valley

“None shall eat, nor talk, neigh even to loosening your bowels!

Until I have confirmed that it shall be granted by my judgement

And mine alone!”

All of a sudden!

A giant Black Marlin

Rose from the depths of the ocean

And smote off the evil Captain’s head

With a quivering

Poetic agile stroke!

A man from the galley

Quill

Who was particularly set upon

By the degraded whims

Of the arrogant Captain

Picked up his severed head and said

“Is this okay, Captain!”

And proceeded to urinate all over the face

Of the separated cranium!

A raucous cheer!

With the faintest understanding

Of freedom reclaimed

Broke out amongst the hundred or so men and women

Hoarded on the Amistad

Within mere minutes

The blood of the Captain’s crew spilled

Aft and stern into the open seas

The tempestuous storm departed

And the sun’s golden rays magnificently came piercing down

Bathing the men in its glory!

As if wanting to add some divine finality

To the former slaves/master peculiar predicament

Fight Writing

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Though some might think it folly

And others fear it just

I write

Without feeling contrite

To fight for what is right

Simply as an Elephants charm

Because I must!

To right the wrongs

And sing the songs of the poor troubadors

Workers all

Veterans

Senior citizens

Children

Toilers and more

And illuminate the light

Fight write the good fight

And provoke and revoke the ideas

Prevalent

Championed from the minds of the Chosen Ones

As well as the upper-crust