Online Issues – A Love Story

Cupid drops the whiskey shot in his beer.  The furious bubbles dance like liquid fire.   His attention fixed until the show slowly ends.

He lends back in his bar stool.  Lighting a cigarette.   Then starting at a tablet.  Right index finger flips pictures in strobe like fashion.

“Yo, short stuff!  Kill the heater!   It’s a no smoking place.   What the hell’s wrong with YOU!   Don’t you got something to work on.   Tomorrow’s your big day, right?” Ben the bartender looking for bigger than his six fit frame.

Cupid smashes the cigarette out on the wood bar top.  Without looking up replies “Some day, I’m walking in here.   There’ll be a robot.   It’ll say ‘ hey short stuff’.  I’d put an arrow in your ass. .. but I’d feel bad for the dog in the alley!”

“Hey, touching.   You used to find people and make magic.   You know people really liked you.   What did they actually talk to you?  Did your magical people skills do you in?”  Ben plops down on his elbows trying to catch his attention.

“Look.   People used to go out.  Malls were great.   Now, it’s no weapons allowed!   Can’t do my job without them!   So I troll online.   I’ll start at 3AM.  I’ll make up names close to someone else.  Send a couple messages between two people.   They forget because at 3AM your drunk online.   Next day they scramble to find that day person.  Simply genius.   But the entertainment value, so much better.”  Cupid stops to drain the glass.

“That’s really sick! !  You fraud people into love!  How could you?”  Ben looks a bit angry.

“Ever lie a little to get something pal?!” Cupid stood quickly.  “Hey wait! Gold here.  ‘Looking for genuine lovely soul’.  This week be good.   Happy Valentine’s Day!”

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Christmas past

We all have memories of what Christmas is or was.   Some are simple, like I remember getting the greatest present ever.   Or finding the legendary gift to to all gifts.  Maybe, the spirit of the holiday.   The people who we can not longer share it with.  

For my little local world of Cleveland, this was Christmas.   Well Christmas past.

http://www.mrjingeling.com/

Video from when it was only shown at Christmas time.   Hard to believe but a movie made in this town would go on to bury Mr Mingling.  Ralphie probably had the ghost of Mr Jingling help shoot his eye out.

Starting to Look A Lot Like Christmas 

The tree is up but not finished!  The first crate of ornaments is done.  Starfish Santa from Kona, Hawaii almost make up for cutting off Ren & Stimpy.

  

Help is found everywhere! Booger lives under the tree.  She knocks off ornaments if they interfere with her space.

  
Zuni dancer from Arizona, mingles with Contessa Wagon from Oregan Trail from Nebraska and a voodoo ornament from New Orleans.  Behind a girl puts her letter to Santa Claus into a mailbox.

  

  
Above is our blue spruce, that’s as good as the iPad works at dusk.  Below the weeping cherry with a light net thrown over it and a twinkle tree with flashing lights.

   

Thanksgiving 

Today is our nation’s day of giving thanks.

Holiday season used to open tomorrow.

Another commercial tradition ate the meaning of the day.

Neither of us can tell the world what thanks is given to whom.

Keeping the newest tradition and post it on social media.

Special day of  gatherings slide into the past.

Going to the mall, grandma can wait or cook early.

Investing in TV’s and gifts, no longer the people in our lives.

Visions of materials keep us in tune with today, maybe tomorrow too.

I called you three aisles over, “is it in the cart?”

Never mind we don’t have room in the trunk.

Good old days were when we rushed to see each other…

Happy thanksgiving!  In the most American way, the lyrics of British group singing in Japanese (Queen) We are a nation of mutts…

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Ge18n2JCwBs.  (the video)

Teo Torriatte (Let Us Cling Together)

Queen

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Lyrics

When I’m gone no need to wonder

If I ever think of you

The same moon shines

The same wind blows for both of us

And time is but a paper moon

Be not gone

Though I’m gone it’s as though

I hold the flower that touches you

A new life grows

The blossom knows there’s no one else

Could warm my heart as much as you

Be not gone

Let us cling together as the years go by

Oh my love my love

In the quiet of the night

Let our candle always burn

Let us never lose the lessons we have learned

Teo torriatte konomama iko

Aisuruhito yo

Shizukana yoi ni

Hikario tomoshi

Itoshiki oshieo idaki

Hear my song still think of me

The way you’ve come to think of me

The nights grow long

But dreams live on

Just close your pretty eyes

And you can be with me

Dream on

Teo torriatte konomama iko

Aisuruhito yo

Shizukana yoi ni

Hikario tomoshi

Itoshiki oshieo idaki

When I’m gone they’ll say we were all fools

And we don’t understand

Oh be strong don’t turn your heart

We’re all you’re all we’re all for all for always

Let us cling together as the years go by

Oh my love my love

In the quiet of the night

Let our candle always burn

Let us never lose the lessons we have learned

Cold, concrete, frosty the fraud

                                             Frosty

                                     you are a fraud!

                          Frosty we tried to make you!

                                 The eyes, the cob pipe.

                                               The hat.

                   The magic was fraud.  Frosty kids with 

             Ice cold hands. Yelling grandparents. “what the

       Hell is my pipe in the snow!”  Frosty, didn’t move, dance

            Sing, parade all around the square, no catch me if you

                     can…  Frosty was a fraud.  The before he melts

                                                Grounded!

                    Frosty, I’m glad you never came back some day.        

       Frosty, we watch the show.  We had stuffed snowmen. All fraud.

Frosty, we learned marketing because of you.  Just in case, you didn’t 

hear me, you are a fraud.  We ruined a couple hats.  The eyes made out of 

         coal, couldn’t hurt them.  Grandpa never got past the corn cob

                     pipe.  Frosty as if you cared.  You still a fraud!

He’s where?!

The radio crackles, squelches, then blares through the quiet night.

“Suspect is in the third crypt.  He is described as a tan skinned, thin man, about five eight, blonde, blacks eyes.  Unknown if armed.  Several complaints.  Damage, personnel property.”

“Are these things numbered?” Patrolmen Loomis looks out across Memory Gardens.  There are no lights here.  The residents don’t need them.  Several patches of grass are torn up.  Large stones seem to hide at the edge of his vision.  “10-4, Loomis doing perimeter search.  10-8 on Jones and Fieldman?  Or am I here solo?”

The radio cracks two or three times.  “Fifteen minutes, Loomis.  Number three is second on left.  Dark stone, wooden door.”

They are all dark.  Everything here is dark.  The flashlightprys into the dark.  Shadows don’t even move here.  Let they give themselves away.  The air is still.  The calm is unsettling.  Trees sit half bare.  Their leaves colored by day, have been robbed of substance by the dark.  The moon won’t shine tonite.    

“It’s the wrong time of the year for this shit!”  Loomis explains to no one.

A shard runs through the flashlight’s beam. It’s heading straight for a dark stone building.

“Halt!  Don’t move again!  Hands up where I can see them!”  Loomis cries out.   Where he’s not sure, but he knows he is no longer alone.

A quick jog of six feet brings him to the door of Crypt #3.  The old wooden door eight feet by eight feet, massive iron bands keep it off the ground.  The door doesn’t budge.  The man came right through the door.  The shadow did at least.  The door doesn’t budge.  The hand lock barely yeilds.

“Sussspect, iiiinn crypt! Fast moving shadow all I seen. ? Failing breath slowly returns to Loomis.

“He’s where?!” A new voice replies.

Loomis spins his head around going to see company has come.

Nothing, darkness. Lots of darkness.

Out of corner of his eye, within two feet is a figure. White hair, shriveled hands, dark deep set eyes take away from darkly tanned face.

“John Paul says sleep, Mr Loomis.” The whisper sends like a shout echoing in his head. A blast of powder fills his vision.

“Mr Loomis, you will believe in zombies! You just won’t remember.”