Who Sees My Plan?

There’s a plan for me
Dramatic destiny
Of whose eyes do see
Isn’t clear to me.

Is it the Universe
The vague cosmic Nurse
Pushing me head first
Into the wayward hearse?

Is it Nirvanic force
The still and silent horse
Promising soul divorce
If I ride its course?

Is it Nothingness
The non-tactile bliss
Giving me the diss
Of justice amiss?

Are they the gods afar
The pantheon of war
Some if I do ignore
Shall strike me lame and poor?

Is it the single Maker
The celestial baker
Whose homage few the taker
Leaving a globe of fakers?

Why are these eyes so distant
Not a pair insistent
Their stories inconsistent
Who shall pursue persistent?

Is there a presence nearer
Calling the falling hearer
Dissonant voice made clearer
‘Stead some vacuous terror?

Or could ever a man
Deliver such a plan
Taking my whole life’s span
From where it first began?

Couldn’t be less than general
To fight my plan from seminal
Couldn’t be less than sage
To orchestrate the age
Couldn’t be less than seer
Forecasting all my fear
Couldn’t be less than flawless
Making just the lawless
Couldn’t be less than rabbi
Teaching my tale better than I
Couldn’t be less than priest
Fixing each fragile piece
Couldn’t be less than king
Great might to do such thing.

But would he know the loss suffered
My hurt that’s not buffered
My shame that’s not covered
My joys undiscovered?

Would he respect the rejection
My miss of perfection
My hopeless direction
My endless reflection?

Would he have eyes like me
To see what I see
To get my grief and glee
My longing to be free

From this distant plan
From this unknown clan
Whose idols span
Over all the land?

And if he did would I
Have the guts to try
To follow this great guide
And have our souls abide

As he leads me forth
Into a life of worth
Going beyond this Earth
Into eternal mirth?

Five Things Not Even Rock Stars Can Make Edgy

5997575_stdThis past week my parents gifted my son with a karaoke machine for his birthday. Before my Mom bought this one, she bought another one that was, well, kind of effeminate. The machine had lots of pink and even though the logo included a skull, it was donning a pink bow. Mom agreed with us that the machine was a tad too girly, so she returned the machine for something more gender-neutral. And Hudson is totally rocking out to his new toy. Sweet.

90But Mom’s first purchase made me think. Hudson is so cool, could he have pulled off the girly karaoke machine? I mean, wouldn’t that have been so rock star of him to be like, “Yeah, I’ll rock out to a machine with a skull and a pink bow. ‘Cause that’s edgy.”? Or, does a pink bow overstep the boundary of edginess and move the rocker into the uncool or humiliating category? It’s hard to know. Whether growing long silky hair, dressing up like a girl, or using flowers in your band’s logo, rockers have historically found ways of making “non-dude” things cool and edgy. Which made me think, what things can not even rock stars make edgy?

Dusky Dolphin (Lagenorhynchus obscurus) leaping out of water, New ZealandKittens- Wildcats and even adult cats are permissible, but the kitten is rightfully verboten. You can call yourself Def Leopard and conjure images of a predatory feline who’s pissed off that he can’t hear. You can put “Cougar” in the middle of your name like John Mellancamp and shockingly get away with it. But you probably can’t put a big-eyed, purring kitten pawing at a ball of yarn on your album cover. Or even call your band Kitty Thrasher, which is just tasteless.

Poodles- Three Dog Night and Temple of the Dog produced solid canine imagery, but this dog is so stereotyped as froufrou that nothing but ridicule could come from its use. The only way maybe it could pass as rocking is if the poodle was attacking its equally froufrou owner. Even then, the most savage beast in the world can’t be taken seriously with little pink bows in its hair.

63078065Mermen- The reason you’ve never seen mermen associated with rock is because they can’t disassociate themselves from mermaids. Now mermaids would actually work, because they can be sexy. But really mermen are generally seen as non-sexy mermaids. They are like really girly man fish. And girly man fish most certainly do not rock.

Tutus- Lionel Richie penned “Ballerina Girl” but I’ve never seen a rock act cover it.


Truly though, you’ve reached the rock pinnacle if you can take something perceived as girly or kiddish and make it edgy. So congrats to Guns and Roses, Queen, and K.I.S.S. We salute you.

Can you think something not even a rock star could make edgy, or a rock star who has totally gotten away with something?

A Word to Service Pros: I’m Not Laughing

13213726I want you to imagine you inviting me over to your house. I ring the bell, your dog barks, you open the door and let me in. As I walk in, I start to look around and laugh a few times. Then I say something like “whew, that’s a problem.” Then I laugh a little more and say, “yep, that could cost you a thousand bucks to replace.” Would you be laughing? Of course not. Would you care to shove a pair of pliers up my sniffer? Probably and rightfully so.

Which is why I’m so frustrated by service professionals who come to my house and think my problems are kind of funny. Has that happened to you? Over the years, there have been several instances where I feel like I’m a character in a joke.

I’m sure most of the time, the intentions are harmless. Service professionals are amused by what they see, and they also want us to feel comfortable with what they do. But when it comes to doing work and spending money on my house, I’m in no mood to yuck it up like I’m watching Looney Tunes.

Like the guy two years ago who came to fix a toilet leak and laughed at my duct tape job. Oh forgive me man, is that not what you would’ve done? Because you’re a professional plumber who spends time around toilets ALL DAY? I bet you would’ve pulled out the perfect toilet tool and got that puppy back in order pronto. Congrats sir on your crapper repair acumen. I just love inviting random dudes into my house to look at my toilet, laugh, fix the problem in eight seconds and then charge me $150. Woohoo, now we’re having a good time. Why don’t you open that lid and consider what I really feel like right now?

There was also the bug man, who found a termite mound five feet from my house under a splash block. No lie, he guffawed and then said he had to take a picture for his manager. Oh yes please, and print out out for your break room bulletin board with a picture of my loser face beside it. Here’s the poor soul who has a termite army declaring war on his house. Then, he actually had the gall to recommend a $1,000 termite solution. That’s hilarious. Let me chug this Coke and spew it all over myself because I can’t contain my bellowing mirth. I’ll be right back with my magical piggy bank that’s primed to be shattered for this very occasion. And you wanna stay for drinks? We can talk about how bugs are invading the planet and my home will be a disintegrated pile of rubble in a short matter of time.

Basically, when a pro comes to my home to fix a problem, I want sympathy. They need to know that no matter how much I like people, there are 10 million things I’d rather do than have one come to my house, freak out my dog, take up my space and empty my bank account. Truly, I’m grateful for service pros, but just one time before breaking the bad news I would love for one to shed a tear and say, “Man, I’m sorry. This is the worst part of my job.”