Renovation Blues

The reno guys are here again
To fix all they’ve done wrong
They’ve been here far too many times
I hate this dance and song
Each time they come I have the hope
“This time they’ll do it right”
But have the feeling in my gut
That I’ll still have to fight
For them to paint things properly
To fix each mess they’ve made
‘Cause so far every job they’ve done
Would get a failing grade
But maybe I’m to hard on them
Perhaps I shouldn’t grouse
They’ll do it right this time, I’m sure! …
…They just blew up the house…

Prime Minister of Canada Sexually Assaulted in House of Commons

On Wednesday May 18, 2016, a disturbing incident took place in the Canadian House of Commons (as can be seen in the above video).  I have watched this clip a few times, and I have noticed something that nobody else seems to have realized.  Justin Trudeau, the Prime Minister of Canada, was sexually assaulted by Ruth-Ellen Brosseau, NDP representative for the riding of Berthier—Maskinongé, QC.  It is quite clear that by standing where she was standing, she caused her breasts to inappropriately come in contact with the elbow of Mr. Trudeau.  To make matters worse, Ms. Brosseau then chose to place the blame on the Prime Minister, when it was her breasts that were clearly impeding the path of Mr. Trudeau’s elbow.  I believe that Ms. Brosseau owes the Prime Minister, and for that matter, all of Canada, a sincere apology for her inexcusable behaviour in the House of Commons.

OK.  To be serious for a moment.  Do I actually believe that Brosseau assaulted Trudeau with her breasts?  Of course not.  I believe that about as much as I believe that Trudeau assaulted her.  The fact of the matter is, both Brosseau and Trudeau (and a number of other politicians) were in a place where neither of them should have been at the time.  All of those politicians who are standing on the floor in this video are not where they should be.  So…Mr. Trudeau and Ms. Brosseau, kindly stop acting like children.  Grow up, take your seats, and get back to the business of running this country.


Jingle Bells – A Horse’s Perspective

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh”. I’m sure it’s easy for you to say, when you’re up there riding in the sleigh, but seriously, try to think of it from my perspective.  Yeah, I’m the one horse that has to pull this dang contraption.  So sit back and let me tell you my impression of that song:

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way

Do you have to use bells when you harness me up to your sleigh?  That constant jangling is so close to my head, it gives me a massive headache every time you force me to pull that thing!

Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh

There’s nothing fun about being enslaved within a bunch of leather straps and then being forced to pull your sleigh, without even having another horse by my side to keep me company.  What’s wrong with a two-horse open sleigh anyway?  And speaking of open sleighs, could you maybe put a lid on that thing?  You humans are so noisy!  I already have a headache from the bells, your constant yapping sure isn’t helping!

Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh

The only reason that you’re dashing through the snow is that, if I go any slower, that accursed whip falls across my back.  I already have a headache, I don’t need a sore back too!  Although now that I think of it, my back does hurt from the strain of pulling your stupid sleigh.  Besides companionship, a second horse would certainly reduce the strain a bit!

O’er the hills we go

It’s enough of a pain pulling you on level terrain!  The strain becomes that much greater when we’re on an incline, and then on the declines, the weight of the load that I am pulling becomes a weight that is pushing me.  That’s not comfortable either!

Laughing all the way

Did I mention that I have a headache?  Be quiet already!!

Bells on bobtail ring

My tail is my pride, so bobbing my tail leaves me feeling rather embarrassed when I am able to spend time with others of my kind!

Making spirits bright

Embarrassing a horse and giving it a headache are the things that bring you joy in life?  What kind of sick, twisted creatures are you humans anyway?

What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight

Singing now?  Perhaps it wouldn’t be quite as bad if you could carry a tune in a bucket, but you can’t.  Oh, my poor head!

OK…I’ll admit, it’s not so bad at the end. I know that eventually, we’ll get back to the stable, and I always enjoy the hot mash and the nice rub-down, but perhaps on the next ride, you could choose the harness without the bells?



If you live in Saskatoon
then you already know
that if you watch for long enough
you’ll see a pothole grow
their population’s booming
on cars they take their toll
I just wish that the city
would teach them birth control


I based the above poem on an article in the local paper that makes reference to “Saskatoon’s pothole population”.  I’ve never heard of potholes having a population, but it makes sense, considering they seem to be reproducing at an alarming rate this year.

Written for dVerse where we were asked to write dagsvers.  Dagsvers (or Daily Verse) is a primarily Nordic style of light-hearted journalistic poetry.  It is often combined with a drawing, but I have almost no artistic talent, so I’m going to pass on that aspect of the challenge.


Politicians always lie
and so I have to wonder why
we even bother listening
for they just make our poor ears ring
and even when they disagree
the truth you’ll find is never free
for when they’re from opposing sides
they just take us on diff’rent rides
veracity’s left in the dust
how do they think that we could trust
a single thing they have to say
when we are naught to them but prey

The Heiress’s Birthday Party

  • copyright - DLovering

I hear the heiress had a wonderful 21st birthday party.  Apparently she asked for a Spain themed party.  She always gets what she wants.  The party was complete with margaritas and even a  piñata… although both of those are Mexican and not Spanish.  I’m sure the heiress didn’t care…probably didn’t even notice the discrepancy.  I’m betting they ate food loaded with jalapeños too…idiots.  At least they got the flag right!  By the looks of it, though, they knew how to party!

I’m only telling you this second-hand, though.  I don’t get invited to their parties.  I’m just the guy who cleans up the mess.




Written for Friday Fictioneers.  Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for providing us, each week, with a wonderful picture to inspire bits of flash fiction!

The 12 Haiku of Christmas

Partridge and pear tree

my gift on Christmas: day one

bird’s eating the pears


On Christmas: day two

I received two turtle doves

no hope for the pears


Day three:  three french hens

I couldn’t understand a

single word they said


Fourth day of Christmas:

Four calling birds for a grand

total of ten birds


I got five gold rings

on Christmas’s fifth day

finally not a bird!


Day six has arrived

I got six egg-bearing geese

more birds.  You kidding??


On the seventh day

where will I put seven swans?

my tub’s getting full


Day eight: eight milk maids

I have no use for them, but

at least they’re not birds


Nine ladies dancing

are what I got on day nine

this is worse than birds


Ten Lords-a-leaping

“why” you ask “are they jumping?”

they’re dodging bird poop


On day eleven

I’m deafened by the sounds of

eleven pipers


finally, the last day

more noise: twelve drummers drumming

this is a nightmare


If you enjoy these, check out my haiku blog at


the inventor of the time machine,
Jonathon Raypel
Thought that it would be just grand
to meet one Alex Bell

he set the dials on his box
he'd have some real amazing talks
surely t'would be heaven!

when mister Bell he fin'ly met
he said, "let's take a ride"
it only took a few moments
to coax his guest inside

"two-oh-one-three" is where they cruised
Alex wanted to see
if his invention still was used
his face was filled with glee

when they got there thru' time afar
A. Bell was horrified
two cell-talkers were driving cars
and he watched them collide

the boys and girls he saw walk by
all had their heads downcast
as they sent texts, it made Bell cry
this result of his past

Jon asked "did you imagine this
when you made your first phone?"
"Certainly Not!  It's ludicrous!
Enough! Please take me home"

surprised by Alexanders's rage
Raypel took his guest back
"must be culture shock of the age
that brought on that attack"

he'd seen enough time's shifting sand
and stepped back in his room
he calmly grabbed a hammer and
his phone smashed with a boom

The future will be better, yeah
without abilities
to speak with those so far away
'cuz they're naught but zombies.


Written for dVerse
I actually wrote this for the "unplugged" challenge, but was too late to submit my link, so it was suggested to me that I submit for open link night.  Hope you enjoy!

My Thoughts on the New Royal Baby

Prince William and Duchess Kate are the proud parents of a brand-new squalling baby boy.  They named him George.  George is a perfectly fine name to have.  There have been plenty of Georges who have led successful lives.  There are currently many Georges around…a lot of whom are wonderful people, and there have even been Kings named George.

George is not however a very popular name for babies as far as “in vogue” names go right now.  To be completely honest, when I think of the name “George”, I think of a balding, overweight plumber who is somewhere around 60 years of age.  When the news showed a picture of the new prince, he didn’t look much like a middle-aged plumber.

To be completely fair, the royal couple didn’t have a lot of say in the matter…a future king is expected to have certain names.  They really only had a few names to choose from: Charles, William, Richard, Henry, and George.  Had Will and Kate had a daughter, I promise you that she would have been named one of the following: Elizabeth, Victoria, or Ann…possibly Anne.

Maybe it’s just me, but I think that it’s time that the Royal Family got with the times and chose a few new names for their first-born children.

Oh well…I guess that having a future king who likes to tinker with plumbing isn’t the worst thing in the world!

A Reindeer’s Perspective

I’ve been pulling Santa’s sleigh for years beyond measure.  I have a grasp of world geography that would startle most quadrupeds.  Really!  Think about it…each year, I and my friends take a whirlwind tour of the entire globe…not that we have much time to look around.  Even with Santa’s “Time Slowing Magic”, we still have only a few seconds per house.

Now let me ask you a question:  Have you ever watched a nature documentary featuring reindeer (or caribou – if the documentary is about our North American relatives)?  What do you see us doing for most of the time?  Sure…when there’s a wolf or some other predator around, we’ll run.  But when all is as it should be, we stroll about and graze.  Or sleep.  We live a mostly leisurely life.  What I bet you’ve never seen is a reindeer that is flying.  In fact very few reindeer have the specific mutation that allows flight.

Did you just think “Lucky?”  Really?  You think that the “gift of flight” is a lucky thing to have if you’re a reindeer?  Well…it might have been…

When I was just a calf, and my mom and dad realized I had the flight mutation, they weren’t as excited as you might think.  For as long as they could, they kept me hidden.  They knew something that you probably don’t…the flight mutation is extremely dangerous for us reindeer, because it typically leads to a rather un-natural life.

My parents managed to keep me hidden for only the first few days before I was found by a troll.  This troll saw me rising above the ground in a brief moment when my parents’ backs were turned.  In a snap, I was captured and hauled off to a compound filled with other flying reindeer.  I was too young to realize it then, but I was about to enter a life of slavery.

Every day, I was harnessed up to the other flying reindeer…some of which had been slaves for decades already, and made to practice “formation flying.”  Once I had been forced to master that, I was taken from the training ground to another place.  This place had fewer reindeer, but thousands of trolls…except that they didn’t call themselves trolls…they referred to themselves as “elfs”.  Wishful thinking, if you ask me…I know the difference between a troll (an ugly, evil creature), and an elf (a beautiful and benevolent being).  In fact, they couldn’t even get the pluralization right…my slave masters couldn’t figure out that the plural of “elf” is “elves”.

I thought my life couldn’t get worse.  I was assigned to a work-gang with 7 other reindeer, and we were systematically trained for speed, quick landings and takeoffs, and precision landings.  There was very little sleep and only a few minutes each day for us to eat.  The reindeer life of leisure had come to an end.  I said I thought that my life couldn’t get worse.  I was wrong.  It was near the end of December when the biggest troll I have ever seen came lumbering out to the cage where we were kept.  He was wearing the fur of some animal, his suit was the colour of blood, and his belt was as black as his heart.  One of the other trolls came and told us that we would be transporting this hideous being all over the world.  Then he told us that we were to refer to this gargantuan monster as…you guessed it, “Santa Claus”.  Now if I know anything…the word “santa” can be translated as “saint”.  Once again, wishful thinking.  “Troll” and “Saint” go together about as well as…well…slavery and joy.

Every year since, I and my team have been forced to pull this nefarious beast around the world, where “Santa” goes down chimneys for some purpose that I can only imagine is diabolical in nature.

I’ve been told that he’s “delivering toys to good boys and girls”.  How can this be true…when he, himself, uses slave labour?

By the way, their are elves at the compound as well…they are no better off than the reindeer.  They are slaves too…forced to construct the toys…and they have the added humiliation of being impersonated by these trolls who claim to be “elfs”

This Christmas, don’t be so excited about Santa coming down your chimney.  Remember…if you support Santa Claus, you are supporting slave labour.

Please tell this story to all your friends.  Perhaps you can bring an end to reindeer slavery.