A.G.E's Joint

So, we get the news Spidey John's pancreas gave up the ghost a few months ago. It wasn't surprising, really. He'd been on the carousel of treatment for quite a while  The painted pony would go up as the inflammation waned, and go down as it came back. Circling and spiraling down to the inevitable exit off the freeway of life.Dylan Thomas would have been proud. He met the pain with sarcasm and bite and went down swinging. I had gotten to know him through The Group Blogging Experience. I liked his snappy use of language and Devil May Care attitude. We were both going through a mid life crisis and writing was the way we dealt with it. I was just starting to write regularly and needed a bit of guidance on how to go. He just told me to keep reading. I read his Treehouse Erotica and his normal stuff. The porn was a bit rough for my taste, but his take on life was hilarious. He read mine and gave me pointers on plot and character development.  Through him I met a large portion...

I get this question from time to time.  Who IS Another Government Employee.  Well, I answered this one time:  Who am I?. But that changed over time.  So, I did an update;  Meet and Greet While that helps, it doesn't really capture the essence. I developed the AG.E. persona so I could sign on to the Neal Boortz website and heckle him.  The tag line that used to grace every entry : "Sixth House on Right, Off 9-27, PDK Atlanta" really does describe the location of my house.  Boortz is a pilot and used to keep his airplanes at the airport up the street.  Most of my posts were just making fun of him and his bombastic views.  He would never respond, though. As a writer, I'm all over the board.  I tend towards shorter pieces and free verse.  Rigid forms are too confining to me.  So, you will see very few sonnets.  Only exception is haiku.  They are fun. I do characters as well.  Some have been around for a lo...

So, the challenge from Group Blogging is the Anti Bucket List?  The stuff you wouldn't do for love or money?  That is a challenge.  I have always been one to take a dare and do stuff I normally wouldn't.  but that said there are a few things I just can not see doing. 1) Jumping out of a perfectly good, flying airplane.  Sorry, folks. Unless there is a REALLY ugly Drill Sergeant with an M-4 at my back, I ain't doing it.  You can talk all you want about rushes and how pretty the scenery looks... 2) Likewise, jumping off high fixed objects.  Now, I actually used to jump off cliffs and stuff into a river, but I'm older now.  That sweet zone just doesn't look that big. 3) Drink Gin.  Gasoline tastes better. 4) Ride a motorcycle in traffic. Sorry, too many idiots to ride anywhere within 100 yards of a car. 5) Buy a house larger than 2500 square feet. All I need is a roof over my head, not a monument to my ego. Most of the houses construct...

Steam whistled brightly from the tea pot next to the window. Just another fine day at home. A wrinkled hand slips over the handle, while it's partner turns off the gas.  Tea and Scones gets made at 3:00pm. The tin is fetched from the ancient F&M hamper someone had given to them at the hospital. No one knew who had left it, but it came home with her. It was a talisman to the time of no wheelchair. Another iteration in the circular dance. Unknowing eyes stare as the ball drops in the pot. The crockery creamer with a carrot motif sits on the tray unused.  Lips more aware than their owner open as the spoon approaches. Her eyes soften and smile while his dart almost imperceptibly.  Nothing is tracked or timed in this waltz. Sip and nibble interrupted by dabs from the napkin. His lips curl into a half smile as she cleans up the dishes. Goodbyes said, he nods and fades away.  __________________________________________________________________________________...

Everything around him turned yellow briefly, as if the sun was used as a camera flash. His head hit the floor as his gut rumbled with the sound of the FlashBang. He kept hold of the trigger.  "They really think they have me?" He thought briefly as he backed into the corner opposite the door. "Just like them to rush in without checking first" The smoke thinned slightly, as flames licked up from the clothes on the floor.  The SWAT officers were approaching the house with the ram. Come on up a little closer...a little closer...What they were saying was just gibberish to his ringing ears. BAM! Do that one more time. BAM! Just once more. BAM! And Jeremy pushed the switch.

Staring at the screen, the writer ponders what to do.  They need three thirty word stories by Thursday. Are they crazy? The espresso cup is picked up. With a sip, he starts. The harvest moon is setting behind the ridge, larger than when it rose. Billy rises on his elbow and looks down on her profile. Soft bosom rises and falls in anticipation.  Her lips open slightly as they approach. With a sigh, Sarah's life begins. The paces quickens. What was that noise? Looking back to see, she doesn't see the curb.  The driver doesn't see her. And each other's memories are frozen in time. 

Hey, Heidy and Howdy!   It’s your randy, dandy old time D.J. Harry Handy.   I'm looking at all you lovely GILF's populating my dreams. Today’s program is truly special for my geriatric group. I know you’ve been keeping with the Miley Cyrus thing?   Actually, I haven’t.   But whole affair centers around her cavorting nekkid across stages with various props and actors.   Kind of like this. Actually, the subject is the lack of respect we old people get from the youngsters out in the world.   They say we are out of touch and irrelevant.   WHERE have we heard those words before?   Why out of our own mouths when we were that age and younger.   And we were LOUD!! And we said the very same things to our parents and grandparents.   Don’t trust anyone over 30.   Give peace a chance! War is wrong! Well that still is the case, but I digress.   Respect for yourself and others has taken a nosedive in this in...

Ah, the sign we all ignored. Oh, we saw it all right. And we still had the drink. Went upstairs with that person, Whose name escapes us now. Night more smelt and felt  Than seen. Awakening we find The dog where they were.

Half my life ago. That is a bad topic for someone in their mid fifties. Even saying that is admission that I am more than half way to the exit. Working at this little retail start up with the big orange idea. With four semi crazy people that knew they could do hardware better. Seventy hour weeks. Cold pizza from the Thursday Night marketing meeting eaten for breakfast on Friday. Going from four stores To eight To twenty six. To fifty five when I left, exhausted three years later. Leaving a fortune behind. Bitter? No.  I wasn't cut out to be rich. I would have been miserable. But Bernie Marcus is still the coolest person I have had the pleasure to know. 

I want to dance with you Bringing the sun up And puting it to bed With my arms entwined with yours I want to raise children And grandchildren And have them scattered With my arms entwined with yours And when we leave this plane I want to rise with the sun Set with the sun With my arms entwined with yours. So pour the glass Take my hand And let us drink With our arms entwined with each other. 

Yes, you know him. Overall one of the most recognizable faces on television ever.  But also the operator of one of the most subtle and effective Christian ministries ever.  It all was predicated on this passage: The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these." Mark 12:31 And Fred said. "Won't you be my neighbor?" Yes.  Yes, I will.

Hmmm... Longing. The wanting of something that seems out of reach. Our longings change.  When we are children, it is a toy we saw or a maybe a chocolate cake. As teenagers it was that mysterious one of the opposite sex.  And for those who actually caught the prize, not knowing at all what to do with it. As adults we long for wealth and power, even though we know deep inside it really isn't good for us. And now as a older type person, longing for the success of our children and the love of the grandkids that may or may not have come. Along the way we trade important things for our longings, only to find out we were better off if we hadn't. But it doesn't matter. In the end, when we find the ultimate freedom, we all are at the same place..

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.

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