ARM AND LEGUME

A bean is a bean, but a pea is a relief.

      - Billie Bob z''l

Legumes, legumes
Enhance cardiac health
The more one consumes
The less one is able to pass flatus in stealth

      - Elisson
***
The Missus was inspired, the other day, to make a Four-Bean Salad. Having no recipe handy, she just made one up on the fly.



Black beans, little white beans, little red beans, garbanzos, all rinsed and drained... sliced red and yellow peppers... a few sliced sun-dried tomatoes... chopped basil, flat-leaf parsley, and shallot... a light dusting of garlic powder... a little extra virgin olive oil... a splash of red wine vinegar. Let it all sit for a few hours for the flavors to get comfortable with one another. That’s it: easy-peasy.

ON HAKUNA

All curled up in her little bed
She sleeps.
Whene’er she sees the Laser Dot
She leaps.
At night, in mousie-hunting stealth
She creeps.


Hakuna curls up for a nap... not in her little bed this time, but on the ottoman in the den.

Hakuna lives the life of Reilly these days. (If Reilly were a cat, that is.)

Long, languorous naps in the daytime... a few frenetic sessions of Laser Dot chasing... and nocturnal hunting expeditions that leave her collection of Fake Mousies scattered throughout the house. For a kitty, it doesn’t get much better than this.

Friday Ark #294 is afloat at the Modulator - and this Sunday, Carnival of the Cats #321 will be hosted by Nikita at Meowsings of an Opinionated Pussycat. Be sure to stop by and visit... and tell ’em Elisson sent ya!

Update: CotC #321 is up... but at Life from a Cat’s Perspective, where Samantha, Clementine, and Maverick have done a fine job of pinch-hitting after medical issues sidelined Nikita’s human companion.

MR. DEBONAIR’S GUIDE FOR THE WELL-DRESSED MAN ABOUT TOWN

When putting on your Undershorts,
If knowledge you should lack
Of which side’s against the penis
And which side’s against the crack,
Recall this simple mantra
Whenever you are able,
To help you with those Undershorts
If they should lack a label.
No matter if you’re Asian,
Hispanic, white, or black -
The yellow stain, it goes in front;
The brown stain goes in back.

ON ANGER

When nasty folk have done you dirt
And made your life a mess;
When anger rises in your heart
And rage is in your breast,
Remember these eleven words -
Advice from years long gone:
“It’s better to be pissed off
Than to be pissed on.”

TO MY VALENTINE

Valentine, circa 1938, from the collection of Billie Bob, the late Daddy d’SWMBO.

O, please consider, Lady Mine:
Won’t you be my Valentine?
Sign upon that dotted line,
And our love could be so fine.

If you were my Valentine,
Life would be as sweet as wine.
On the love-seat we’d recline;
I’d run my fingers on your spine.

Should you be my Valentine,
For your loving I would pine.
Hearts (and other parts) we’d jine -
Making love would be divine.

If I had a diamond mine
Or a thousand fatted kine,
All I own, it would be thine,
If you were my Valentine.

If you were my Valentine,
I’d achieve my Grand Design.
Like the Sun our love would shine!
If you were my Valentine.

SHANIA

I like Shania Twain, by golly -
Much better than Shania Twolley.

TO A ROSE... IN A WHITE BOWL

Fair Throne, thou art the Place where I must sit
When Nature’s Needs arise, as needs they must.
I perch upon you, there to take a Shit,
Alas, though, when that Shit should form a Crust.

That Crust offends by giving off a Smell
Compos’d of Vileness, with the Reek of Doom.
O Throne, thou causeth Senses to rebel
When I must needs stop by the “Little Room.”

But, hark! A Sound is stealing on my Ear,
The Sound of Brushing, Flushing, and a Swish!
It tells me that there is no Need to fear
A crusted Pot, within to Poop or Pish.

To drop the Kids off at the Pool I go,
The Throne, it sparkles - thanks to Tae D Bo.

[Being a Sonnet in Iambic Pooptameter.]

FUZZY FELINE FRIDAY

Hakuna sits on the upstairs landing
To catch the rays of the morning sun.

I might distract her with the laser -
Chasing the red dot is plenty of fun.

But first I’ve got to take her picture:
“What’re you doing with that camera, son?”

I’m capturing kitty on Digital Media,
And then - watch! - under the bed she’ll run!



Update: Carnival of the Cats #305 is up at Meowsings of an Opinionated Pussycat. Go check out da kittehs!

THE TWEEZER

The Tweezer always comes in Pairs
The better to remove the Hairs
That grow profusely in the Nostrils
Of Congressmen and other Wastrels.

I care not if it rains or freezes,
As long as I have my Pair of Tweezus.

1941

The Genbaku-Domu (Atomic Bomb Dome) in Hiroshima.

Eleven years ’fore I was born
The sound of aircraft split the morn
Awakening a sleeping giant
Who set about crushing an evil tyrant.

No: Make that tyrants. There were two
That eventually received their due,
With Reich and Empire crushed at last.
On Seven December, that die was cast.

And thus to tyrants I would warn,
“You fuck with the bull, you get the horn.”

Today is the sixty-eighth anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, an attack that propelled the United States into World War II. One could say that, not only was it (as President Franklin D. Roosevelt pronounced it) a day that would live in infamy, it was a day that had a profound impact on the shape of the world in which we live.

In other, unrelated news, today is Tom Waits’s sixtieth birthday. Happy birthday, Tom!

ON COMMAND

Let me tell you of Ed “Poppa” Squizzot
Who can crap you a crap on command:
He’ll respond to a whispered suggestion
Or a casual wave of the hand,
And then he will curl you a steamer
Delivering at your request.
If you need a turd, pay Pop Squizzot a vizzot,
’Cause of all the Loaf-Pinchers, he’s best!

ON THE ROAD

The Road to Hell is paved with good intentions,
And also-rans, and Honorable Mentions;
The back-pats that puff up our self-esteem,
The MVP’s for ev’ry member of the team,
The “atta boy” for mediocrity,
The trophy that is purchased for a fee.

When men no longer care if they excel,
They’re rolling down the Boulevard to Hell.

WRATH O’ GAWD, 2009 EDITION

SOME say the world will end in fire,
Some say in flood.
Flood’s filled with Products of Digestion:
I hold with those who like combustion.
But for a third choice, I’d take dust.
Unlike a flood, it’s rather dry;
It formeth such a lovely crust -
Yet you can die
In crimson dust.

- Apologies to Robert Frost

Here we are in Atlanta, recovering from unprecedented flooding...


This shot was taken with a few miles of Chez Elisson. Yeef! [Photo: Brant Sanderlin, Atlanta Journal-Constitution]


At Six Flags over Georgia, the Georgia Cyclone looks like it was hit by one. The whole park was one Log Flume Ride, with nearby Interstate 20 submerged. [Photo: Phil Skinner, Atlanta Journal-Constitution]

...and meanwhile, California grapples with heat waves and fire-wrought devastation.


The Fillmore fire, as seen from the Simi Valley. [Photo: Jerry Foster]


Havin’ a Heat Wave in SoCal. [Photo: Jerry Foster]

The Southeast has been awash up until a couple of days ago, while, southern California roasts and burns. If we could only find a way to average this stuff out...

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, a monster dust storm in the Outback blankets Sydney, Australia in powdery red silt.


Sydney’s famed Harbour Bridge is shrouded in crimson dust. [Photo: Getty Images]

The above represents just a few of the prizes that are awarded in the Daily Lottery o’ Life. You don’t need to buy a ticket - you get one free, every day you get out of bed!

SANCTUM SANCTORUM

Hakuna’s ensconced in her Sanctum Sanctorum.
It’s under our box-spring, right there on the floor-um.
The absolute best Kitty Cat Comfort-Zone,
She goes there whenever the Humans are home
And she needs a break from their loving attention.
(This happens quite often, allow me to mention.)
The grimace that shines forth on her lovely face
Sayeth, “Oh, for some Thumbs... and a big can of Mace!”

Update: Friday Ark #260 is afloat over at the Modulator. For yet more Catnis, check out Carnival of the Cats, which will be hosted sometime Sunday evening (thereabouts) at Three Tabby Cats in Vienna.

Update 2: CotC #287 is up.

GROW OLD EAT CAKE ALONG WITH ME

She Who Must Be Obeyed, 1977 edition.

Eat cake along with me!
It’s Choc’late, can’t you see?
Your Day of Birth is why this cake was made!
The icing’s rather grand -
Don’t get it on your hand -
Dry Cleaner-Man is looking to get paid!

Today’s cause for celebration is the completion of yet another Circumsolar Journey by my beloved She Who Must Be Obeyed.

We did most of our celebrating this Saturday evening past. Both the Missus and our friend Doctah Marc celebrate birthdays within two days of each other, and so we generally try to have a combined Double-Birthday Happy-Fest. And if you can’t be happy after a well-constructed Martini, a perfectly seared bone-in ribeye steak, a choice of not one, but two candle-laden cakes, all in the presence of good friends - well, you’re just not trying hard enough.


Doctah Marc, Donnie Joe, and SWMBO in a celebratory mood.

Birthdays come and birthdays go, and this one of SWMBO’s has no especial numerological significance. The second digit is not a “0” or a “5,” and the total does not represent a critical multiple of important factors. It is also not a prime number.

And yet none of that matters.

The Missus and I, we’ve been together a long time... something on the order of 60% of our entire lives. And somehow, each succeeding year reveals new facets of her personality, new aspects of her to love. Though I should be beyond surprise, every day has the capacity for surprise.

Perhaps the biggest surprise of all is that she still sees fit to put up with me. May it be ever thus.

Happy birthday, my love! I wish you many, many more, all in good health... and in my company!

THE NEW MARTIAL ARTS SENSATION THAT’S SWEEPING THE NATION

I, like so many people, know that regular exercise is an important part of a healthy lifestyle. But let’s face it: Most exercise is boring. Jogging? Running on a treadmill? I’d sooner drive tenpenny nails into my head.

A few months ago, as I was pondering the question of how to make workouts interesting enough so that they would be fun instead of a chore, I fell into a gentle slumber. And, as I slumbered, I had a vision... a vision of a dapper, yet minuscule gentleman in a blazer, his captain’s cap cocked at a jaunty angle, paddling a tiny rowboat across a small pond with sparkling blue waters.

And that’s what inspired me to combine a necessary (yet mildly unpleasant) Household Task with the principles of cardiovascular conditioning, all within the disciplinary framework of Asian martial arts. Presented for your delectation: Tae D Bo™!

Tae D Bo is the new martial arts sensation that's sweeping the nation. Only Tae D Bo can improve your cardiac fitness while simultaneously rendering your toilets sparkling clean.

“What’s that?” you say. “Elisson, on a toilet kick again?”

Well I’ll cop to some previous adventures that may have been in questionable taste... not the least of which was the infamous Punchbowl Meme. But this is different. Just how different, I am not prepared to say.

Tae D Bo is simple and requires no special equipment - just a regular toilet brush. Using our special martial arts techniques, you’ll learn how to use that brush to not only keep your Porcelain Throne sparkling clean, but to give yourself a pulse-pounding, heart-healthy workout in the process! And, as you rack up Tae D Bo achievements and pass your Training Milestones, you’ll receive awards, such as the coveted Black Brush!

Listen to what some of our enthusiastic fans have been inspired to say:

I once had a bowl that just stank
No tidy-bowl man in my tank
Then I got me a brush
You can swish and then flush
Now my crapper is no longer rank

To clean up the place where I sat
I put on my colander hat
A vigorous brush
and additional flush...
It just don’t get better than that

Is there no one else here who will play
A Tae D Bo round on this day?
Then I’ll brush and I’ll flush
Though I am in a rush
The rest must doodoo as they may

- Libby

All I can say is,
There’s a strange, ineluctable beauty
In poetry written ’bout doodie.

And so, I must respond with a few “pot shots” of my own:

Brusha brusha brusha
Flusha flusha flusha
Tae D Bo - your cardio
Gives me sucha rusha

Don’t be a slob -
Pick up that swab
And scrub it ’til it’s shiny
Then get your thing
Into the ring
Where I will beat your heinie

It’s great to be healthy and physically fit
And to have a clean toilet - no traces of shit

Whenever you feel that Exercise-Hunger
Pick up a brush, or a Toilet-Plunger
Wave it around and work up a sweat
A better workout routine, you’ve never met

Other folks may run on treadmills
Their ellipticals give them rushes
But those in the know
On Team Tae D Bo
Get their rushes from flushes and brushes

Porcelain Grace, how sweet the sound
Since my Tae D Bo brush I have found
I like to swish it round and round
It helps my healthy heart to pound

* * * * *
Now: your turn. What kind of poetry can Tae D Bo inspire you to create?

Strong Hearts - Clean Toilets! Tae D Bo!

ANNUAL REPORT

Last quarter’s Sales were better than before;
     Thanks be to Perfumes, Lipstick, and the Like;
Our Forecast, optimistic: Profits more
     Than those of prior Quarter’s Sales Spike.

The overseas Divisions send Report;
     A story of Net Income past Compare;
And Earnings fuel’d by Products of the Sort
     That may be worn on Skin or in the Hair.

The economic Downturn’s ill Effects
     Have little Impact, as we know quite well,
Upon th’Attraction that the Fairer Sex
     Enhanceth with an Artificial Smell.

The Auditors state that our Reck’ning’s good;
     Now go and vote your Proxy as we would.

- The Board of Avon

PARTY HARDY

She had an Ed Hardy tat above her ample ass
She had a snootful of Scotch in a Martini glass
It seemed to me that she had lots of class
So I asked her to dance.

She slurred her words – perfect Whisky Diction
She responded to my subtle pelvic friction
And pretty soon I started getting an eriction
Hoping to get in her pants.

Tattoo on your titty
Tattoo on your back
My favorite’s the one
Over your Ass-Crack
Makes a snazzy target
When I take aim
I like to Party Hardy
It’s my favorite game

Oh, I wish this night would never stop
Gonna try to get you out of that halter-top
You look like you could use some Horizontal Bop
Can’t you feel the romance?

Tattoo on your titty
Tattoo on your back
My favorite’s the one
Over your Ass-Crack
Makes a snazzy target
When I take aim
I like to Party Hardy
It’s my favorite game

[This would make a fine Country Song: all it needs is some music. Anyone want to give it a try?]

Inspired by the fine Sunday Ink posts over at Dead Dog Walkin’.

PITH ON YOU

If you wish your status to be Legendary and Mythical,
Be sure to find yourself a Helmet that’s Pithical.

[Sometimes, Mr. Debonair
Finds something besides a Colander for to wear.]

Pith helmet courtesy of Eric.

HOUSEWARES DEPORTMENT

Elisson sports the Colander du Jour. This one, a sort of Metallic Top Hat, bears the Food Network logo.

Though salespeople might get pissed,
There is one thing I can’t resist:
A Colander, to wear upon the Head.

One benefit (I have no doubt),
It keeps the Alien Voices out.
Try one today, in Silver or in Red.

If people would adopt the goals
Of wearing Metal Hats with Holes,
The world’s problems would be at an end -

So wear a Colander with me,
And Foolishness will set us free!
What better way, an afternoon to spend?