Face Book Love

It was Face Book love

No need for new clothes to wear

Doe’s the toilet paper roll over or under

No need to  share

Kissed the wrong girl

Gave me a Cold sore to remember

But I don’t mind

Because you say you’re not coming to December

Snow will be the only cold on my mind

It was face Book love

I got thirteen cats you’ll never know

Got hit by a baseball bat

In a bar room fight

But that crooked nose not on my page

And that broken lip

Will never kiss your lips

And I never chew tobacco

When I chat with you

It was Face Book Love

You come dance on my lap

My teeth so bad

Barely can chew on an apple

What this blind man can’t do

This blind man won’t say

And I don’t go to church

And my mother says it’s time

But I just won’t go away          Craig Champlin October 17 2011

Inspiration

                                   INSPIRATION                                                                                             Ernie felt like the Jack Nicholson character in the movie The Shining. The empty pages of his composition book mocked him. He needed inspiration. He had a deadline to meet.                                                                                                                                                            He re-read Notes of a Dirty Old Man by Charles Bukowski. This left him thirsty and lusting for pasty blonde bar floozies. He re-read Catcher in the Rye, which inspired him to search furiously through his closet for his old hunting hat. He re-read Hamlet. This merely couched him in deep melancholy and provoked bad thoughts about his deceased mother.                                                                                                                                     He re-read Gone with the Wind, which frankly left him not giving a damn about even writing the great American novel. He re-read Helter Skelter and ended up humming endless Beatle songs and carving crucifixes on the foreheads of his daughters Barbie dolls.                                                                                                                                                     He re-read Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea which inspired him to gorge himself on fish and chips and go to the video store and rent Jaws 1 and Jaws 11. He re-read Moby Dick. This convinced him, “Why look for the whale, when the whale is his own reflection in the mirror?” He re-read Crime and Punishment. This led Ernie to walk aimlessly around the apartment with a broomstick draped across his shoulders, wearing only a loincloth.                                                                                                                                   He re-read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and spent the entire day trying to screw in a light bulb. He re-read Vincent Van Gogh’s biography, Lust for Life , which prompted him to cut off the ears of his daughter’s Beanie Babies and play outside with an Etch-a-Sketch in a driving snow storm.                                                                              He re-read Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine and got violently ill after drinking an entire bottle of cooking sherry. He read Shirley MacLaine’s biography, which left him convinced he’d authored Beowulf in a past life. Exhausted, he pretended to read James Joyce’s Ulysses, and passed out on the couch in a stream of unconciousness.                                              

PS, I didn’t underline the book titles because my typing skills suck and my wife doesn’t like me a whole lot today. English majors please forgive me.

PPS – The wife has now fixed the problem.  Still not sure I like him much today. - LC

Inspiration

                                   INSPIRATION                                                                                             Ernie felt like the Jack Nicholson character in the movie The Shining. The empty pages of his composition book mocked him. He needed inspiration. He had a deadline to meet.                                                                                                                                                            He re-read Notes of a Dirty Old Man by Charles Bukowski. This left him thirsty and lusting for pasty blonde bar floozies. He re-read Catcher in the Rye, which inspired him to search furiously through his closet for his old hunting hat. He re-read Hamlet. This merely couched him in deep melancholy and provoked bad thoughts about his deceased mother.                                                                                                                                     He re-read Gone with the Wind, which frankly left him not giving a damn about even writing the great American novel. He re-read Helter Skelter and ended up humming endless Beatle songs and carving crucifixes on the foreheads of his daughters Barbie dolls.                                                                                                                                                     He re-read Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea which inspired him to gorge himself on fish and chips and go to the video store and rent Jaws 1 and Jaws 11. He re-read Moby Dick. This convinced him, “Why look for the whale, when the whale is his own reflection in the mirror?” He re-read Crime and Punishment. This led Ernie to walk aimlessly around the apartment with a broomstick draped across his shoulders, wearing only a loincloth.                                                                                                                                   He re-read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and spent the entire day trying to screw in a light bulb. He re-read Vincent Van Gogh’s biography, Lust for Life , which prompted him to cut off the ears of his daughter’s Beanie Babies and play outside with an Etch-a-Sketch in a driving snow storm.                                                                              He re-read Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine and got violently ill after drinking an entire bottle of cooking sherry. He read Shirley MacLaine’s biography, which left him convinced he’d authored Beowulf in a past life. Exhausted, he pretended to read James Joyce’s Ulysses, and passed out on the couch in a stream of unconciousness.                                              

PS, I didn’t underline the book titles because my typing skills suck and my wife doesn’t like me a whole lot today. English majors please forgive me.

PPS – The wife has now fixed the problem.  Still not sure I like him much today. - LC

Teachers

                       Teachers

  Ernie looked up to most everyone, perhaps because he was short. His mentor was tall and a wee bit mad. His name was Dr. George. He was rather tall and Estonian and liked freedom. He left Estonia and came to New York on a boat. The boat didn’t sink so Dr. George went to school. He went to a lot of school. He was smart. He had a three PhD’s. One was in pharmaceutical psychology. One was in film, and one in literature. The initials behind his name were taller than Ernie.

   The first day of class Dr George and Ernie had dominated the class discussion. Ernie was a few years older than the other kids, was married and had worked at a state institution for retarded adults,. He knew  one couldn’t skate through life majoring in late night White Castle and I hope that girl sleeps with me tonight. Class was over but Dr George said no one could leave until someone made a comment other than Ernie. The other students were silent and fidgeted at their desks. Ernie got agitated, lit a cigarette and said please were in college. He got up and walked out.

   That night Ernie and wife went to an art house film at the student union. The movie ended and they walked out. Also walking out was Dr. George, his wife and two daughters. . The Dr. said, Dr. Ernest . Ernie said me? Yes you will come home with me tonight and drink and chat and smoke. Ernie was pretty accomplished at these activities and said sure. Ernie knew when he was captured.

    They went to the house and sat at the kitchen table. This delighted Ernie as all things at his house took place in the kitchen. The living room was where his parents went to  pass out . Dr. George went to the freezer and got a gallon of vodka. He went to a drawer and pulled out five or six plastic medicine bottles. They were all hand labeled and contained pot. Dr George said lets try this one from lower Manhattan, 1969. Sure, said Ernie, as he took a swig of vodka. Dr George rolled a joint, took a large hit and pondered the moment. Ernie was beginning to realize he was in the company of a true artist. Dr George said a good buzz should not be wasted, but meditated upon. Sure said Ernie. He would not tell Willie Mays how to steal a base, he wasn’t about to tell Chekov how to get stoned.

    Dr. George peppered Ernie with questions. Ernest how did you become this person in this kitchen? The pot and vodka and utter clarity of Dr. George’s probing line of questioning left Ernie open like a tin of sardines. He felt like a Catholic at confessional. Well, my Dad left when I was seven, My Mother was a non -differential schizophrenic. I had three older sisters that were good looking and my grandmother felt she had perhaps the firmest breasts of any woman over sixty-five on the planet. Oh, replied Dr. George, perhaps we should try some pot from upper Manhattan circa 1972.  Sure said Ernie I’m down with that. Down said Dr. George, why, we’re. trying to go upwards. He took another swig of vodka, and said language is so strife with semantic issues. Of course replied Ernie. His mind was leaving lower Manhatten and heading toward Bangor, Maine rapidly.

    Some how the conversation arrived on the subject of sport. Dr George perked up. I recently took up Basketball. I like it. I like it a lot. I’m a big guy and I like moving people around the court with my girth. It’s kind of like chess. Ernie smiled and thought about foreshadowing. He had spent his entire youth playing and had dribbled a ball three hours nightly in his basement. He was  about as good at basketball as Stalin was at revolution. I play a little ball said Ernie. But you’re rather short replied Dr. George and doesn’t  basketball by nature cater to the bigger man. I mean the laws of nature are at work. Ernie had excelled at get large black people the ball and watched them dunk with utter impunity. Well let us play this Saturday suggested Ernie. Sure said Dr. George it will be great fun. Just  for a grin lets play a game of one on one. Mano mano. If I beat you Dr. George I don’t have to do the term paper for your class. Sure, competition is good for the human spirit, replied Dr, George confidently.

   They met at the gym on Saturday. Are you ready for defeat with honor,. said  the good doctor? I am said Ernie feeling like a house man in a card game. Ernie went around and thru Dr. George like a race car against a volks wagon. The final score was twenty-one to four.. Speechless Dr. George stared down at Ernie. Let us go back to my apartment , have some smoke and a couple of beers, said Ernie. They went to the apartment. Ernie went to his kitchen drawer and got out his pot and said circa streets of Chicago 1974. He took a long pull on the joint and handed it to Dr. George.It smelled like victory. Dr. George and Ernie became good friends. Ernie got an A in the class and never did turn in a term paper.

                                                                                                          Craig Champlin September 2011

The Loonies

              The Loonies

Ernie didn’t want to go out and play anymore. He’d finally had it.He’d always get into trouble. It wouldn’t matter what precautions he took. The loonies would fine him. Disguises didn’t even help.

   One day Ernie dressed up as Napoleon and went out for a walk.At the very first stop light he came to a couple of weirdos asked him to be their leader. Seems they wanted to take over the world. Ernie simply said,”No thanks,” and gave each of them a Kool, That’s all they really wanted anyhow. Ernie was just to sensitive for his own good.

    Ernie walked toward the beach. Two beat cops stopped him, thinking he had a gun in his coat or something. They opened his coat and found him clutching a picture of a woman to his chest.As one of the cops was looking at the picture, Ernie’s ex-wife, whom he hadn’t seen in three years, strolled by with her new baby. The cops stopped her and said,” this weird guy here, dressed up as Napoleon, has a picture of you. She just smiled and told them Ernie was an old friend who sometimes did crazy things.

     The cops let Ernie go and told him dress more appropriately if he didn’t want to be hassled. Ernie got a six pack and went back to his apartment. He put on Judy Garland’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and opened a beer.A female voice said” Cute Ernie,” and hung up. Ernie always got caught.

The Loonies

              The Loonies

Ernie didn’t want to go out and play anymore. He’d finally had it.He’d always get into trouble. It wouldn’t matter what precautions he took. The loonies would fine him. Disguises didn’t even help.

   One day Ernie dressed up as Napoleon and went out for a walk.At the very first stop light he came to a couple of weirdos asked him to be their leader. Seems they wanted to take over the world. Ernie simply said,”No thanks,” and gave each of them a Kool, That’s all they really wanted anyhow. Ernie was just to sensitive for his own good.

    Ernie walked toward the beach. Two beat cops stopped him, thinking he had a gun in his coat or something. They opened his coat and found him clutching a picture of a woman to his chest.As one of the cops was looking at the picture, Ernie’s ex-wife, whom he hadn’t seen in three years, strolled by with her new baby. The cops stopped her and said,” this weird guy here, dressed up as Napoleon, has a picture of you. She just smiled and told them Ernie was an old friend who sometimes did crazy things.

     The cops let Ernie go and told him dress more appropriately if he didn’t want to be hassled. Ernie got a six pack and went back to his apartment. He put on Judy Garland’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and opened a beer.A female voice said” Cute Ernie,” and hung up. Ernie always got caught.

Thinkin

On the night his wife turned sixty-five. Ernie crawled in to bed and said honey I never made love to someone eligible for Medicare before. She said, well why start now. Ernie said that’s not fair you used to have me for lunch, now you have me for lent. She said and soon I’ll give up that religion too. When Ernie was a younger man he came home from a gig one cold, cold night and was surprised that his wife was still awake. He took off his clothes and lay down on the big pillow in front of the TV. He said honey I need some warmth. She said, well put your clothes back on. Ernie said, can’t ya throw an old dog a bone? She said I don’t pitch and we only have cats.  Ernie found a hundred dollar bill on the street one night and gave it to his wife thinking he might get lucky. She took the hundred dollar bill and said Ernie don’t even start thinking that way you already got lucky enough for one night. Ernie won two hundred dollars at the race track, strode into the apartment feeling quite confidant about the evenings possibilities, He gave his wife the money with a big grin on his face. She looked at Ernie bemused and said I bet you didn’t win this betting on a filly or a mare. Damn she was right it had been a gelding. Ernie got hold of some Viagra and came home and told his wife about it during supper, she seemed curious about it and smiled and said maybe we should find out what all the fuss was about She gave Ernie a wink as she went into the bed room. Ernie quickly downed three of the pills and sat on the couch to make a couple of quick business calls. He heard his wife call out come here, he jumped up and knocked her favorite china horse off the coffee table with his chemically enhanced manhood. The horse broke into tiny pieces. Ernie cleaned up the mess and walked slowly into the bedroom. His wife said what did you break and looked at him and said don’t even tell me. Ernie went back into the living room, sat on the couch and picked up the newspaper. The headline read, Sex Scandal in the Catholic Church. Ernie thought what the hell, he didn’t need to take a vow of celibacy. He fell asleep and dreamed he was Johnny Depp.  Morning came and he woke up to the call of mockingbirds outside his window. It was early Monday morning and his wife asked him if he’d wait for the garbage men to make sure they picked up the old mattress. Ernie went outside lit a cigarette and shook his head. The garbage men came on Thursday. 

September16th 2011

Mortality

                 Mortality

    “Yep,” Ernie thought, as he lay sprawled on his couch like a theme park,”another legend out the door.” Ah life! You got to take the beer with the sweet. Ernie had tried to find knickers for Payne Stewart’s tribute, but his legs were like a rhino, short,and hot pants with a forty inch waist were hard to come by, even at the gay resale shop.

      Ernie didn’t know what to do with life, much less death. When Mickey Mantle died, Ernie had a moment or silence, during which he thought,”Of course the man drank like a fish.” Privately he had hoped Mick willed his used Playboy collection to him. When he heard… where have you gone Joe DiMaggio…on the Mexican bandstand cable TV station, he knew just what to do. He went to the bar. There he found countless others drowning their sorrow over the demise of Joe, Jesus and Jake the mechanic who liked to beat on his wife a little.

       After Dad Bedlam passed nine months ago, Ernie had been left an orphan. He’d had great experience handling death. His advice, when asked was,”It’s tough, but don’t take it personally. If someone’s still pitching you got to come to the plate.”

        The only glitch in the picture occurred when Wilt Chamberlain recently passed. The man was too tall and had slept with too many women. This left Ernie totally befuddled and thirsty.

        When last seen, Ernie was furiously looking the bins at the used record store for a recording of Dylan’s “ The Hour When the Ship Comes in.” Once he found it, he ran home and watched re-runs of “Let’s Make a Deal and drank a six pack.

        Walter Payton’s death left Ernie speechless and morbid. He sat on the couch and listened to “ Dust in the Wind,” by Kansas and watched the witches Dorthy say, “Auntie Em, I want to come home.” There was no more sweetness in Chicago today. Ernie finally passed out, clutching Garcia, the Beanie Baby to his chest        November 7^th 1999

       

Primal Ernie

Ernie laid on the couch feeling adventurous. He was flipping through the pages of National Geographic, looking for pictures of naked women. It was the middle of the night and his family was asleep.

   Outside a howling wind shook the windowpanes. Ernie was peaceful. He popped a can of beer and hoped he wouldn’t pass out before the early morning exercise shows came on. His priorities were in order: Beer, wife, children and education; both mental and physical.

    He could find only a picture of a Tibetan monk with his shirt off in the National Geographic, and wondered if it was possible to get the new Playboy out from under the bed without waking his wife. An executive decision. He popped another beer.

    In the midst of this reverie; out of the corner of his eye, he saw something scurry across the far wall of the living room. Ever since he peed in his pants when Alan Arkin jumped out at Audrey Hepburn in “Wait Until Dark,” Ernie didn’t like to be scared. He really didn’t believe that alligators came through toilets and ate people, but the possibility lingered in his imagination.

     He arose from the couch and found the cat, got another beer and placed the cat in front of the bookcase. The cat regarded Ernie blankly and strode off. Ernie mumbled out loud, “This wouldn’t happen in the jungle where there’s no cat chow.” Ernie got up, found the cat again, got another beer and once more put the cat down in front of the bookcase. The cat looked at Ernie like he was a wall hanging and strutted out of the room.

      “Why have a cat?” thought Ernie. Cats don’t bark at monsters, cats don’t cook, clean, raise kids, do the laundry, pay bills, have gainful employment. A wife yes, a cat no.

            The mouse scurried out from under the bookcase and darted under the entertainment console.  Ernie was getting pissed. The mouse had already grown six inches. Ernie found the cat, got another beer and set the cat in front of the T.V.. The cat looked at Ernie like he was a scientologist or something. He meowed, “Piss off!” and walked away.

         Ernie was getting angrier by the moment. This wasn’t right. He got up, found the cat again, got another beer and plopped down on the floor next to the cat in front of the T.V. He whispered in the cat’s ear, “Cat, mouse, cat, mouse…” The cat looked at Ernie and said, “Oh, please!”

         Ernie got up, stumbled into the kitchen, got another beer and swore under his breath. He went to the bathroom, read two sentences of “ Crime and Punishment”, relieved himself and retired to the living room. He was cynically perusing the National Geographic, when the mouse poked its head out from under the TV.

         This time the mouse didn’t bother to scurry, but sauntered across the floor like he owned the place. Ernie had had enough. He chucked the National Geographic across the room. It was a direct hit and the mouse fell dead in its tracks.

         Ernie fell asleep at sunrise just as Billy Blanks and his spandex clad bevy of believers appeared on the TV screen. Ernie snored loudly and dreamed of bigger game. The cat walked past the dead mouse, climbed on the couch next to Ernie, fell asleep and dreamed of birds.

Nancy

   ,Ernie had had a Jones for this girl for a long time. He was in the womb humming Nancy with the smiling face. In kindergarten he dressed up as Zorro for Halloween because he knew she liked boys with masks, dressed in black. Freshman year in high school he went to his biology class because she was in it. He played hooky in every other class. He threw spitballs at her, passed her silly little notes like they were from that oily guy he knew she had a crush on. Ernie was a regular Cyrano De Bergerac. He waited eagerly for snow, so he could show up at her house with a shovel and ask her Mom if he could please clear the drive way for free. Every year he bought ten boxes of Girl Scout cookies from her little sister and was left without lunch money for two months.

   He learned how to moon walk like Michael Jackson, though he was even whiter than Michael and had less rhythm than Dick Chaney. He got a job a job working with retarded kids because she was a special education teacher. When she moved to the western suburbs he purchased a motorcycle so he could visit her. He was terrified of motorcycles and rode down the shoulder of the freeway to visit her. He purchased outfits of clothing for her, after making pilgrimages to Ralph Lauren’s studio in Paris to ensure his taste was adequate. He quit doing all drugs, even aspirin, he went to churches of every faith on the planet so he could accurately quote the scripture of her chosen faith. He actually read Moby Dick and War and Peace while all his friends were watching Bears games, Cubs games, and Bulls games.

   He spent three summers de-teaseling corn in the blazing sun of Illinois to show her he understood the plight of the small farmer. He said he hated Pee-wee Herman and Tiny Tim, even though he worshipped both guys and in fact studied ukulele with Tiny right up to the day he got married on the Carson show. He trudged through the deserts with Lawrence Of Arabia even though he hated sand and camels. His butt never fit right between the humps. He became an astronaut because some days she exhibited a penchant for being spacey.                                                                                                                            He bought a computer, learned how to type, twitter, tweet. He went on face book, searched through the archives of every library in America, became a historian, followed  the followers of the rapture, Genghis Kahn, Rush Limbaugh and even converted to Judiaism in case she might have. He grew 5 inches, lost two hundred pounds, took up meditation and gave up cheeseburgers. He almost gave up smoking but thought Nancy wouldn’t even believe that. His wife disowned him, his children ignored him, his cat even scorned him and no longer waited on the couch for a couple of blasts of reefer before bird hunting. But he persisted until even his own privates ignored him.

    After 35 years of an enquiring mind he found her. He called her on th phone and stammered and panted and lied his ass off. A LIFETIME DREAM WAS HAPPENING. Nancy wanted to his picture. He said he had one of him playing guitar at Wrigley Field. She said well scan it and post it on Facebook. Ernie didn’t have a scanner, so he spent the money he’d saved for a suit he to wear to his son’s wedding, and bought one. He searched for the picture until he finally found it in an old box of Christmas cards. He made his daughter get up at 2 a.m. to post the picture on Facebook. He posted a picture of a more recent photo too.  That night Nancy left a message for him. Before reading it, he did 50 sit-ups and 50 push-ups as to be in better shape, even though she couldn’t possibly view the results of his efforts. He rolled a joint , lit a cig and opened his email. Her message was only three words: LIKE THE BEARD! Ernie was staggered. Hit by a left from Ali. In the picture from Wrigley Field he didn’t have a beard.

Ernie's Morning, Opening Day,1990

     Ernie did not know where to begin.Life certainly wasn't like learning a new team sport,or buying a new pair of shoes, or even saving enough money to go on an exotic cruise.If you could just keep it simple or amusing it would be done. Ernie Bedlam accepts the Nobel Peace prize for his great american novel, 101 Amusing Ways Life's Fucked. Thank you ladies and gentlemen. Life has shown me that if you turn here, you'll get there, but  then you get there you'll probably wish you had turned here and folks that's the real mystery. Catch22,play ball, it's a beautiful day lets play  two. Batter up, Harry, it looks like the Cubs have an awesome line-up this year .Batting  lead off and playing second base, White boy Taylor , a parts man at a dealership who drinks to much and is quite frankly happy to be playing. Used to be a junkie and nodded out for no good reasons.. Addicted to Baby Ruth bars and teenage beach movies. Batting second, and playing center field is Mo Jo James. Prides himself on boffing  only white women since he's been in the Big show. Fathered three children back in the minors. Keeps them supplied with baseball caps so they always know what gang they're playing for.Batting third and playing right field, Joe Madcock, a Viet Nam vet who got confused when the cops arrested him for holding up a Korean liquor store with an imaginary M-16.His motto for the season:" I was just kidding, now I'm pissed off." Batting clean-up, Joe Pizza, a big strapping south side kid who didn't want to follow his mobster father's foot steps, so became a lawyer instead. Sports a three handicap and a dark tan. Batting fifth and catching is Stan Skiski, a tough polish kid who runs a fresh fish store in Hammond, Indiana. Batting sixth and playing left field, smooth Louie Torres, the fastest player on the team. Hits for a high average when Cubs play Houston, San Diego or Los Angeles, but in the northern cities tends to quit showing up for games and is often found washing dishes or drinking Budweiser in 4 o'clock taverns.Batting seventh is John Student. He's the team accountant. Nice guy, but kind of a sad story. Three wives have already left him, all claiming he was boring and went to church four times a week. Has a background in I ching and Scientology . Batting eighth and playing short stop, Ricky Jones, the slickest fielder on the team, In the off season sells women their mother's used washers and dryers. Also in the boom box buisness. Only real problem is his weight fluctuates depending on how much coke he's doing. Batting ninth and pitching, Chuckie King, a rich boy from Winnetka who figures it's his bat and ball, of course he should do the pitching. Went to Northwestern where he learned how to lose graciously. And managing Ernie Bedlam... coping. Catch 22. Ernie would never get the fucking novel done. Life always went faster than the script. It was unfortunate at best. Ernie had the attention span of a turnip,  Wheezie, Toyboy, and Trouble would just have to be patient. Ernie didn't need a boat to go on a exotic cruise.                                                                                                                                                                

Balling,1970

Did Tonto Ball the Chick. What Chick? The Chick with the bell bottom jeans at the forest preserve last night? That could have been 95% of the girls there. No the groovy Chick, who wanted to Ball everyone. That could have been 85% of the girls there. No the  Chick who was wearing the tie dye T- shirt, Mary said this girl wanted to Ball everybody. I didn’t think Mary slept with any one? No Mary as far as I know didn’t ball any one. Kathy says she only Balls Mitch.. Mitch doesn’t tell me who he sleeps with. This girl wasn’t sleeping with any one she just wanted to Ball Oh! I’m confused, said Ernie. I heard the  girl with the tie die T-shirt  and no bra wanted to Ball the entire Basketball team. I’m on the team and I didn’t get Balled. Well Tonto Balls everyone I hear.He has all the chicks eating out of his hands.His hands aren’t that big. He can’t even palm a basketball. Man what’s wrong with you, were not talking basketball were talking Balling!Well some of the guys are talking about meeting at Dairy Queen and playing some ball afterwards. Maybe the groovy Chick with bell bottoms and no bra will come watch us play. Man you just don’t get it. She doesn’t want to play she wants to Ball. Ball who? Tonto, everybody. wants to Ball Tonto .Tonto can’t play ball tonight he didn’t mow the lawn yesterday he’s grounded. Well who’s  gonna Ball that Chick? Ernie said I don”t know , Why don’t you  fuck the girl? Man she doesn’t fuck  She just Balls. Ernie was confused, He was just a junior. He wouldn’t graduate  until 71. Birds were still birds and Bees were still bees. He let the ball rest in that other guys corner.

Boom Boom Boom

    “ Boom Boom Boom Boom, I’m gonna shoot you right down.” It was the third day of Gettysburg, July 3^rd. Not a good day to twitter my love to you, thought Ernie. Martin Sheen thought the Confederate Army was immortal and could defeat anything the Yanks could stack against them. Tom Berenger disagreed, but being lower down on the food chain couldn’t change History at all. Jeff Daniels was limping badly and Nikes hadn’t been created yet. Ernie was deeply disturbed. There was far too much Banjo music being played across the battlefield. There were no left and right shoes yet. Ernie could only wish the same was true for American politics and religion. Blagojevich was in his room  re-enacting the Tom Cruise scene from Risky Business and preparing a memo for prison that inmates and guards could only refer to him as Elvis, who incidentally was fond of jumpsuits. Tom Cruise wasn’t to be found, as he was joyriding in the skies with John Travolta.                                                                                                                                                          Ernie thought life wasn’t fair. The skies were always friendly when you were rich. .Ernie also wondered why there wasn’t a Delta  Blues theme park down in  Branson Missouri. It would be neat.  Authentic Black people could make Mardi gras beads out of watermelon seeds. Boom Boom Boom Boom. I’m going to shoot you right down,” Ernie had a big day coming up himself. He’d gotten married on July 5^th, knowing  Gettysburg and Independence Day would be all over. In fact sometimes Ernie’s wife thought he was dumb like a fox, but not often.       

July 3^rd ,2011

The Second Day of Gettysburg

   It was the second day of Gettysburg. July 2^nd. Jeff Daniels, who also had a  huge moustache, was left out on a big limb. He was given orders to hold the flank to the very last bullet. That’s scary. Ernie understood. He had a reoccurring dream that he had one of those bad beards that Tom Berenger sported at Gettysburg. He, as always, was contemplating the same big issue. Why was he only five foot –five and a half and white when all he wanted to do in life was dunk a basketball. He lit a cigarette. There was never a favorable wind in the dream. The beard went up in smoke and Ernie had to go to the Halloween party as Johnny Winter because he had no eyebrows.                   

  Bad things happened in the Peach Orchard the second day of Gettysburg. A bad thing happened to Ernie once in a peach orchard, too. He was visiting his sister in the country and a gal took him on a picnic to her favorite. Well, Ernie told the girl her peaches sure looked good and could he possibly touch them to see if they were as ripe as they looked. That’s how we pick out good tomatoes up North. Well Honey, you’re in the South., she said, and these peaches are mine. All mine.

  Jeff Daniel’s guys ran out of bullets the second day and went on the attack, driving the Rebels back. Ernie ran out of good lines. The Southern gal marched right through his lines. He went back to Chicago thinking history doesn’t always repeat itself. Unlike in his dream he didn’t have a bad beard to stroke as he drove along the road. Jeff Daniel’s guys were down to their last bullet. Ernie was down to his last brain cell.      

July 2^nd 2011.

The First Day of Gettysburg

It was the first day of GETTYSBURG, July 1^st. The rebel army was looking for shoes. The Union cavalry was there to prevent them from getting they’re Buster Browns. The Yanks were led by that Sam guy who played the lifeguard and sold everything on T.V.  Ernie held a deep affection for History. The rebel army was led by Martin Sheen. Charley’s dad. The Sam guy, the fella with the giant moustache, wanted to hold the high ground. Ernie understood. He liked to be high too, perhaps because he was short.                                He had married a woman who was taller than him. She was also smarter than Ernie. She sang better, was better employed, liked to cook, and was good looking to boot. Frankly, they didn’t have much in common. She was entrenched in reality; Ernie was entrenched in quicksand, constantly seeking the higher ground. That Sam guy was probably a better choice for a husband but was a hundred years to old and off fighting Martin Sheen in Pennsylvania.  Some times Ernie was a damn visionary. If Martin Sheen told him to cross a big field and attack twenty thousand guys playing with guns and canons three days before July 4^th; Ernie wouldn’t be attending that picnic. He’d just worry about shoes later on.                                                                                                                        Ernie was once in a bar.  A guy sitting next to him was lamenting about how the South ever lost the war. Ernie agreed and said you’d think the Cubs played in Atlanta or something. The guy looked at Ernie and said that’s profound. He ordered another beer and moved to the end of the bar and sat down next to a deaf mute.                                                        It was July first and the Cubs were playing the Sox at Wrigley Field. Ernie was wondering if that Sam guy was going to sing Take Me Out to the Ballgame. He also wondered if the Southsiders wore butternut boxers underneath their uniforms. Ernie saved up most of his wondering for important matters. If the Cubs had won the World Series before the Sox it could have been an entirely a different world. But that thought could wait until tomorrow. Today it was obvious Ernie was on a higher plane. Ernie’s wife just hoped it landed soon.

 July 1^st, 2011

Ernie Goes to the Country

      Ernie sat down at the Counter in a sad roadside cafe next to a sad man with a sad looking dog at his side.The man had a nervous twitch and the dog was full of ticks.Ernie overheard the man ask the waitress if she ever known any happy women."Ya on pay day," the waitress replied. The man muttered, " Damn," as the coffee spilled  out on his saucer.He then said," I once went to the beauty shop with my sister. She laughed the whole way up to the Bluff. She told Mabel to give her the complete works. She started looking real good,smiled and laughed the whole way home. She cooked a marvelous gourmet dinner for my brother-in- law, John. Candles gleamed, her face glowed and beamed and John called saying he was going to play poker with the boys because he'd had a bad day at the truck stop. Well , John got too drunk to drive home and crashed out on Joe's couch. Sis woke up the next day with her hair looking like a scarecrow's. A year later John filed for divorce claiming my sister had worn the same bib overalls for eleven months straight. The waitress shook her head and muttered "Damn," and asked the man if he wanted some apple pie.Ernie asked the waitress where the nearest tavern was.He drove to it, ordered a double Jack Daniels. Ernie muttered, " Damn," and thought to himself," it's the same in the country. Women are crazy because men are stupid."