Absent For A Bit ....

I am away for a little while working on a few or more episodes for The Adventures of My Space Alien Alter Ego story ... will return (to Earth) soon!

Notice: Blogger has screwed up and lost a bunch of photos out of my blog! They are replaced with a gray silhouette of a human head. I will eventually get them replaced with the correct photo, it may take a while to find and fix everything. So some of my stories don't make much sense without their photos, sorry for the inconvenience.



I Spy With My Little Eye But I Would Most Likely Die If I Try To Apply

So, if Putin kicks hundreds of US diplomats out of his country, does this mean more opportunities for out-of-work spies? Where do I sign up?!?!? Oh, wait, the last time I tried to get a job at the CIA and NSA, I ran into age limitations on new hires ...

I bet I would make a lousy spy, plus my Russian language skills aren't overly impressive, but at least I can do a fair job of sounding out the Russian alphabet, so I can read maps and signs, plus know a few phrases. Food? I am not sure about food and I have to dilute vodka with something.


I have mastered the art of opening a pistachio with just the fingers and thumb of one hand. This is quite useful during phone calls. I can even do it with my eyes closed. There are still about 5 percent of the inner goodies that fly out and land on the floor.


Wow, I have lived in Borger almost 40 years and didn't know that T. Boone Pickens lived just to the northeast of us. 

I guess it never came up in conversation. 

His place, Mesa Vista Ranch, is north of Pampa on the Canadian River west of Highway 70. His house is rather easy to find in Google Earth, its about a half acre in size. His private airport is farther west, still on the south side of the Canadian River. We share a common history, with Phillips Petroleum Company being our first employer out of college.


This Could Very Well Be My Cryptic Suicide Note

Someone asked the question, "Who is going to break first, me or Trump?" My response:

I feel your pain, 
time just seems to drain,
Too many times my waking thought
Is what the hell did I do to deserve what I got,
Oh, the semi-horror beyond belief
Of the constant muffled internal scream of no relief,
And now there is a younger junior insane profane vulgurer version asinine assistant named Mooch,
My traumatized soul says, 
Its now just way too muuch,


The Wicked Vet of The Middle

Hopper survived his second visit to the vet last week, but I am not sure that I did. 

He got a different person this time, and I am not sure she was human. I didn't know we were getting her that day, and when she walked in and introduced herself, my heart sank. I took my previous dog Madeline to her a long time ago. She was in a different city to the south at that time and after that experience I knew I never wanted to see her again. So I guess we'll be going back to the vet in Spearman even though its 40 miles away to the north. They know how to treat customers properly.

Hopper has grown from 19 lb to 36 lb in the last two months.


Here is the one funny thing that happened at the vet. 

I was discussing the feeding routine of my dogs, and one of the ingredients is 'boiled chicken'. When I said those two words the veterinarian's head jerked back in disbelief, her mouth flew open with a slight gasp, and I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her skull. 

This reaction made me pause, and she exclaimed, "Why would you feed them that?!?!?" ... which, of course, confused me, and I repeated quizzically, "boiled chicken?!?!?". 

She then cracked up laughing, and replied, "Oh, I thought you said, 'spoiled chicken'" - which amused me, thinking, 'Why would anyone EVER do that, purposely spoil chicken to feed to a dog?!?!? Does this really happen somewhere, anywhere?'


The Wolf Who Cried 'Little Boy'

Jeff Sessions is trying to kill me but he doesn't really know about it.

I wake up at 3 something AM to find out about the intercepted Russian intelligence communications about Jeff Sessions. I watch a news video of four people discussing this situation and how complicated and convoluted, what may and may not be real, and who and what leaks are happening.

Then, before I can get coffee in me, my little brain writes the title for a new, slightly modified, childrens' story, "The Wolf Who Cried 'Little Boy'". Oh, my goodness, I start laughing so hard my head feels like it is going to explode, and my throat really hasn't recovered yet from yesterday, so I am having trouble breathing as well. Luckily there are no dogs around to comfort me as I had let them outside a few minutes before, as I am in the warmest room of the house yet still freezing.

I get the arctic blast machine tamed, coffee made, and share a peanut butter sandwich with the dogs. Disaster averted.

The littlest dog fell asleep in the arm chair a few feet away while staring at me and now he is barking high pitched very lightly while he has a dream of chasing something. The creaking noise of my rotating kitchen chair causes his eyes to open but nothing else moves. I tell him that I love him, and he blinks approvingly, then curls up in a ball out of sight in the chair.

My cute little wolfie wanna be


How Little Rain

How little rain can come down
In our little desolate Texas town
That only an ant could possibly drown
And the grass will prob'bly stay crispy brown 

Where the roof hangs over the side of the house
The concrete slab didn't feel the miniscule douse
The flood ravaged on a molecular scale
But left very little in the rainwater pail

And the dog asleep out back didn't seem to care
That the rarified rain had slightly matted his hair
And this I can plainly prove of the quiet pup quite a lot
By the distance that he didn't move from his dog shaped dry spot

The house must have noticed I arrived too late for the storm
So it mustered up all the moisture its roof could form
And it landed on my left shoulder suddenly with a plop
The torrent of a tiny single solitary water drop


Noise Troll Dumbass

Notice: He knows where his whole nose is and a hole of his nose is.
The hole below his nose holes is known for its noise, 
It generates great hate or stingy stinky things irate 
with his know nothing voice noise,
Oh, vibratory vocal cords of discord tell us a story of mystery or history 
Or your busy family proclivity for business criminal activity.

A Sleep At The We'll

So, at 7:15 this morning I stop at the intersection of 3rd Street and Hedgecoke at a red light while headed west. Suddenly I wake up because the car behind me is honking - I fell asleep while waiting on the traffic light to change!

ONLY ... that didn't happen in real life. It happened in my dream. I fell asleep and woke up in my dream! But then the car horn in my dream causes me to wake up in real life, and I look down to see that it is 7:20 and I should have left for work 20 minutes ago.

So, I stand up really fast from my chair in the livingroom of my house, and the car alarm on my wife's vehicle directly on the other side of the wall goes off, and I realize I was the last person to drive yesterday and that my motion set it off, so the key fob must be in my left pocket below my camera in its case. But I have some difficulty getting the key fob out of my pocket and finally take the camera out first, before getting the car to be quiet.


ONE PERCENT chance of rain?!?!?!?
...now you are just messin' with my head, Weather Channel. Now I need to wake up at 3 AM to see if it happens.


Knowbody No's The Trumple I've Schemed

167 Done 
1294 (or hopefully less) To Go

He is gone to Europe, quick, somebody lock the door so he can't get back in!

I Am The Biggest Ambiguitor said: "I think it was Russia, but I think it was probably other people and, or countries, and I see nothing wrong with that statement. Nobody really knows. Nobody really knows for sure," Trump said in his first press conference overseas as president.

He is wrong, there are know-bodies.


Using the bottom half of a plastic gallon milk jug, I have been making approximately 1/3 gallon sized blocks of ice every day or more for the dogs water bucket outside.

After trimming my pineapple crop yesterday I noticed while walking back to the house that the chunk of ice was gone! Pepper had stole it for himself, with it laying a few feet away in the grass. So I put it back in the water bucket and 'scolded' him. It was a bit smaller than the original block, of course, but it was still a much large weight and size than I would have imagined him carrying in his mouth.

When I came back outside after telling Tamie about it, he had stole it again, only this time moving it farther away and in a slight doggie depression in the dirt.


My suggestion to Donald Trump for dealing with North Korea is to build a wall ... and then demand that Mexico pay for it.


At this very moment North Korea most likely has no ICBM's - no fully functional ones, anyway - it had one and fired it to celebrate the 4th of July.

Now, if we can just figure out how to put a bug in their software/firmware so that once a rocket is launched it turns around in mid flight and heads back to Pyongonegone, we will have something interesting.

At that point we could rename their rocket 'Boom-erang', emphasis on the boom.

(Yes, I know their capital is really spelled Pyongyang)

New Blog for My Abstract Art ... Come Visit

Click HERE for the Art of Ernest S B Boston

These are pieces that I have generated mainly using computer art tools. Enjoy !

Something New:

I am also in the process of linking my poetry blog entries together. This project is only partially finished. A "Poetry LINK" at the bottom of the blog entry points to the next older piece of poetry.

First poem in the series of linked poems ....

Turn Gold Out of the Darkness

Turn Gold Out of the Darkness

Blog Archive

My Art

These are some of my abstract art pieces. They are available as prints, send me a note if you are interested.

Couch Glow

Couch Glow

Gold As Smoke

Gold As Smoke

Flowing Wood

Flowing Wood