A.G.E's Joint

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with the telephone.   Is it useful? Of course it is. But as I have gotten older it is more of an annoyance. It never fails that I will sit down to eat supper when… “RINNNGG”. ( Mine actually makes a weird electronic noise, but I digress.) I always respond: “Now what?” and then go pick up the handset and look at the Caller ID.   Do I know the number?   No? Talk to voice mail.   And most of the time the machine at the other end will recognize its brethren and promptly hang up.   I’ll then be like Grumpy Cat and go “Good.” I wasn’t always like this.   When I was a kid, the phone was a source of fun.   When my family moved to Orlando in the late 1960’s, our phone number was a transposition of a local restaurant. Family dinner was interrupted more than once by diners wanting to make reservations.   My brother and I were always happy to oblige, my mother usually being too drunk to notice.   It too...

Two very Very small flowers Lie bored in the garden Watered in the Spirit Warmed by the grace of God Watch them grow Blooming out To start a seed For two very very small flowers.

Good morning and welcome to Orange Inc.  My name is Joe Task and I started this company. Most people compare us to that other fruit company.  The one that makes computers.  People think they are so great and they changed the world with their "innovative" products, like phones and media players and junk.  But in reality, it's my company that began the nightmare. We manufacture Buzzwords.  We took the normal things in offices and homes from around the world and using our patented fraction distillation grammatical methodology (patent pending) and renamed them.  Our words serve to make people seem more businesslike and "professional".  Yes, we invented the "Forward Thinking Manager".  We turned a simple letter into a "Personal Communications Statement." And turned mass layoffs into "Right Sizing and Redeploying Our Human Capital".  All this to support a "Lean Environment", which allows for "Revenue Supluses" to...

I live in the suburbs along with the rest of the corporate sheep.  We put up with our bosses and hold our anger at the ineptitude and stupidity. Then we are released at the end of the week to hustle, bustle and consume the fractional distillates of our corporate culture.We hit the bars, wishing we were on Mars and away from the madding crowd. But we have been trained by the masters to worship things over people.  And this is what we get: Mall Madness My favorite description of Hell is from Dave Berg. He was a freelance writer best known for his strip "The Lighter Side" in MAD magazine. In one of his books, he describes a room with a banquet table that stretches as far as the eye can see.  It is sumptuously laid out with the best food and drink available in all the world. The guest are all gaily dressed and starving.You see, their arms are locked in a right angle, making impossible to feed themselves.The only way they can eat is to feed their neighbors and they are too...

The cup sat there, white steam rising slowly from umber depths. Smells of frying pork and eggs drifted into Debbie’s nose. Slipping her hands around the cream colored cylinder, she wondered how long since the waitress filled it?   It must not have been that long, it’s still hot.    How long had she been gone? Five, maybe six days?   The only reason she pulled into this diner was she needed to pee.   It just didn’t seem right not to buy something from here. Looking out the window, she saw the Watertown city limit sign and another one saying thirty miles to the Canadian border.    Tucson was dream and in the past. Montreal was the future. There was about $200 left, enough to get her across the border and into the anonymity.   Two years of savings spent in a week.   But it had to be done.   The sight of James and Maritza entwined in her bed had enraged her. She’d known about their affair for a several months. But to have...

 “Hey, Heidy and Howdy, It’s your randy, dandy late night DJ, Harry Handy spinning the tunes you want here on W.O.F.T., Old Farts radio, keeping all of us in the Geritol set soothed with the music of our youth.  It’s Grand Ol’ Opry night here at the Fart. All the crying and driving songs you’ll ever want to hear.   That was Ol’ George Jones with ‘He Stopped Loving Her Today’.  Next up: Conway Twitty, with ‘I’d Love to Lay You Down…” Yay, Tears in Beer Country on the radio.  Best way to wrap this day up.   And it had been a successful day, too. A parade of ladies in sundresses and shifts linked with their bored boyfriends, who only purchased the pretty stuff to keep the peace.  She sure didn’t mind.  Once is not enough, Ladies.  Keep it coming.  The take was probably six or seven hundred dollars for the day.  Bills were going to get paid this week.  Woo Hoo!  And it was going to be a busy couple of wee...

Eyes Looking Out from a Paneled background Sad and hopeful that An escape can be found From the evil world he sees In a home that looks wonderful Deceiving all that see the gilt cover He leaves tonight with his girlfriend Disappearing into the mist Leaving Mother speechless Grasping an image Of hopelessness Drunkenness Empty House