False Origin Stories – Part 1

I love to tell my kids about how something works, or how something came to be. However, my explanations are often fictitious. I like to make my story as ridiculous as I possibly can…so that there will be no way that they will take me seriously I know I’ve done my job properly when I get a huge eye-roll.

The following is based on one of the tall tales that I told a few years back

If you like rock music, you like the electric guitar. However, we did not always have electric guitars (or, for that matter, electricty). In those pre-electric days, rock musicians would turn to steam powered guitars. They were LOUD (as all steam powered machines are)…and with the steam they generated, fog machines weren’t necessary either!

The biggest drawback of the steam-guitar was their lack of portability as they needed to be connected to a massive boiler and coal burner. Another issue was that nore than a few guitarists suffered severe burns from playing their instruments without wearing asbestos gloves (although these gloves were highly recommended by the guitar manufacturers, this instruction was rarely ever followed – if you’ve ever tried to play a stringed instrument while wearing gloves, you’ll understand why!)

Early environmentalists also raised objections about the excessive amount of fossil fuels being consumed to power the instruments, so when inventors discovered how to harness electricity, it was only natural for steam-guitars to be phased out in favour of the “greener” option of electric guitars. However, without steam-guitars, we would have never had [steam] punk rock!

Have we been interpreting it wrong?

What if “liar liar pants on fire”
Was actually a reference
To an Ancient Greek music star
Who set the stage ablaze
With his dance moves?
Lyre Lyre pants on Fire!

🔥

In which the poet makes protest against his Restless Legs

Oh restless legs why must you ache
When all I wish to do is sleep
Eight hours I could stand to take
But from my bed I’ve had to creep
Tomorrow is a busy day
I’ll have no chance to slumber late
Oh restlessness please go away
(Come if you must some other date)
My knees and ankles crackle snap
And like Rice Krispies also pop
I know I’ll need to take a nap
I wish this achiness would stop!
I’m tired and I need my Zzz’s
Oh restless legs stop aching please!

This is not a poem… Or is it?

I haven’t written
Any poetry today –
But there…now I have!

Neurotypical?

so many things in life should be measured
in a spectrum rather than a state of black or white
no one is completely good or completely bad
no book is perfect, nor wholly devoid of any value
no animal is entirely ugly or beautiful
and so I wonder
is “neurotypical” even a real thing? Or
just some word devised by some psycologist
in order to say “this is good and all else is bad”
black and white
but who doesn’t have
some sort of issue
mental challenge
some are autistic – on a spectrum
some have FASD – (S is for spectrum)
mental health issues are common – some
barely notice, while others barely cope
and so I wonder
is “neurotypical” a word that should be
thrown into the dustbin of history
so that we can all say
“I’m neurodivergent – on the spectrum
same as you”
perhaps if we throw out the absolutes
we might start to get along.

springtime work woes

spring has arrived and
I am stuck behind my desk –
quitting time is soon

When I was young

When I was young the adults knew
So many things that I did not
The words they spoke were always true
When I was young the adults knew
“Perhaps one day I’ll know things too
When I am old I’ll know a lot”
But now I’m old – my children know
So many things that I do not.

On a scale of 1 to 10, I give scales of 1 to ten a …

Of scales that rate from one to ten
The merits of some given thing
Such as the value of a book
Or of the wisdom of a king
I have to say that I approve
For ranking helps me when I buy
To purchase something that I’ll like
(Not something that will make me cry)
But sometimes scales are not so great
“That dude’s a three, that gal’s a nine”
That’s superficiality
And that is never ever fine
Some things I think are fine to rate
But sometimes scales are far too cruel
Perhaps a class on “what to judge”
Should be a class that’s taught in school
So on a scale of one to ten
I guess that even scales must score
If I’m the judge to rank such things
I give such scales a three point four.

Memories of a bike trip I took in my youth

I.
The sun and the wind and the rain
All play their part
We liked certain parts more than others

II.
Do you remember the signs
That warned of bears
And said, “stay in your car”?
We read them from our bikes
And laughed nervously

III.
The journey is the point
The destination only marks the end

IV.
One thing I’ve learned:
Riding down might be more fun,
But attaining the summit is victory!

V.
If not for our helmets
The freezing rain
On Sunwapta Pass
Would have really hurt!

Upon a time once long ago

Upon a time once long ago
A man was born but now he’s old
His joints that ache and often creak
Once worked quite well (or so I’m told)
He’s past his prime that much is clear
His head once had a lot of hair
But now when he grabs for a comb
He finds his head is mostly bare
His birthday’s coming pretty soon
And so far there have been no tears
But they will likely be here soon
‘Cause Tuesday I turn 50 years.