Category Archives: Regret

Julia, it was not good to know you… It’s no sad goodbye from those once below you. (An addendum of sorts to the previous post.)

Re:Boot.

I took pleasure in seeing the boss kick Julia’s ass out the door;
My one regret is not putting in a few myself, to even the score,
But no, I’d kick myself if I didn’t regret doing one thing more
And that’s seeing her off with my size nine from the sixth floor.

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Don rallies support at Mississippi for Brett Kavanaugh, and attacks the lack of total recall of a woman assaulted years ago by him, allegedly. When it comes to justice, luckily we can rely on Don to judge. Don really hopes there won’t be many more taxing times like these.

Being Seen To Be Done.

At the rally Donald took the sword
To the testimony of Ms Blasey Ford,
How high Donald’s rhetoric soared-
From his lips the scorn petulantly poured.

See how his red-capped rabble rousers applaud
The irreverent words of the man adored,
The cheap shots and low blows Don scored-
Shouldn’t his deplorable words be deplored?

No, Don don’t believe some conniving broad-
Nor those mean #me too chicks who sew discord-
Don’s happy to let Brett take the Supreme award
And welcome another rich red-faced man aboard.

But there are some words Don’s pointedly ignored-
Loans Don got from Fred before he went to his final reward-
Up there, on high (or more likely, down with the Dark Lord,)
All FAKE NEWS, Don swears solemnly, a TOTAL fraud.

The day comes along for a maudlin thought or two. Such is life.

Long Slow Burn.

Spring brings thoughts of summer, tinged with regret,
For today is- was- the birthday of my brother Chet,
So I called in to work claiming, truthfully, an upset.

I drive the old roads we once biked way back when,
Them skies looked newer and bluer way back then
To two overgrown boys, so so far from being men.

I parked by the pool, old now, new then… to reminisce,
Of that hot endless summer, of the exquisite bliss
Of meeting Chets girlfriend’s sister, of a first kiss.

So we spent those days, young and tanned and strong
Not a care in the world the whole damn summer long;
Show me a healthy tan, and I’ll show you you’re wrong.

Hurricane Florence makes an unwelcome appearance. She’s big, bold, loud and depressingly nasty, and she don’t want to budge. And she’s slowly making advances.

Cold Clammy Hands.

The wind did howl
The hard rain did fall,
The weather, diabolically foul,
Over Carolina Florence did stall.

See the water rise?
It’s lapping at the door!
Perhaps it would be wise
To step up to the second floor?

See, the waters ankle deep-
Now it’s over knocking knees-
Now it’s creeping coldly up the thighs-
It’s enough to make one’s privates freeze.

Another weekend spent at leisure driving the sports utility truck? Or, some might say ‘it’s pick up time.’

All Decked Out.

If you drive a canopied Sports Utility
You’ll soon find you’re everybodys friend,
Add your good nature to its load bearing ability,
Friends, neighbors, their moving stories never end.

We saw the sofa that had been bought-
It measured out at precisely six foot long,
The deck of the utility proved a little short
And the back window glass non-too strong.

Sofas in a truck bed must be restrained-
And please do not slam down the canopy-
Upon the sofa and the tarmac safety glass rained-
‘Bye, friends and neighbors, Hello Insurance Company?

What? All change at the White House legal team- again? Ah well, Donald is chafing to personally fix the legal system anyway.

The Law Is An Ass.

When Dons innocent dealings caused offence,
When he’d find himself in need of legal defence,
When he found the going getting pretty sticky
He’d call Mr Fix-it Cohen, AKA Tricky Mickey.

But now Don feels incensed, full of fury and regret,
For his once trusted Cohort and Mr Mueller have met,
Mikey’s gathered up all his tapes, notes and diaries
And is helping Bob with his probing enquiries.

Now his top White House Counsel loyal Don McGahn-
Who for thirty hours of Bobs grilling defended his boss man-
Sweating through the gruelling Summer, backed against the wall-
Finds Don’s designated him to take retirement and the fall by Fall.

In solidarity Stefan Passantino, McGahns Deputy and protege
Has tendered his resignation, beginning the end of the day,
With evidence of dark White House intrigues proving so abundant
As Lawyer-in-charge of White House Ethics, obviously Stef’s redundant.
 

Off on holiday, off on vacation, doing the Route 66 thing. Ah, the romance of finding a hidden gem somewhere off the beaten track. True story.

Burn Out On Route 66.

After a hundred desert miles in a hot Mustang rag-top
Near Kingman we turned into a quiet deserted rest-stop,
At 100 decibels AC/DCs intro to ‘Thunderstruck’ was roaring
Unhappily rousing an indignnt down-and-out from his snoring.

He sat up, bloodshot eyes blinking,
Looking much the worse for drinking.

He stumbled out from his refuge of dark concrete
Then his steps syncopated with the pounding beat,
In his long-lost eyes a spark of recognition had flared
As from the rumbling Mustang ‘Thunderstruck’ blared.

He felt a trembling in his shoes-
And not from the DTs from the booze.

The hands he’d balled into fists uncurled,
His bright eyes looked into another world
As far from earthly care as the farthest star
As he began to sway and play his air guitar.

Hungover and down on his luck
But he was all over ‘Thunderstruck.’

Satriani, Slash, Stevie Ray, Page nor Hendrix
Could never hope to replicate those licks,
Whatever had washed through that sodden mind
A flash, a trace of rare talent had been left behind.

He’d had to have led an ass-kicking band-
Before the elbow raising got out of hand.

As the thunder begun to come to a close
On that animated face puzzlement rose,
After a few pyrotechnic moments in the light
Those bright eyes fade and darken, dead as night.

We left behind a man lost, unsung and unstrung,
A sobering warning to any wannabe Angus Young.