My call for submissions continues to yield fruit—KC, a regular contributor to and participant in the Dragon Common Room Telegram chat and its various projects—reached out with this poem, which she says is “a satirical take on Dr. Seuss’s poem ‘The Zax‘….”
When I asked KC if she had any biographical information she’d like to share, she said, “I don’t! Sorry! I’m literally just a bored housewife who writes for fun.” Then she sent along something a bit more indicative of her talents: she “is one of the writers of Rachel Fulton Brown’s Dragon Common Room Books; a contributing author to Centrism Games, Aurora Bearialis, and the upcoming Draco Alchemicus. But mostly she is a wife and mother who writes for the she[e]r fun of it.”
As we head into the election season, this little poem is a fun reminder of the perils of Uniparty politics.
It’s been quite awhile since I’ve managed to get out to open mic night, but I’m hoping to get back out there tonight for the first time in awhile. If so, readers can expect some fresh videos in the coming weeks.
This week, however, I’m going back to an unposted classic from 19 July 2022. It’s a duet with my buddy John Pickett on guitar and vocals, and I’m singing the harmonies. If I had curly red hair, our cover of Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” would be even better!
Heavy Metal is one of those flicks that won’t appeal to everyone, but it’s one that I find myself returning to routinely for repeat viewings. I’ve always been a sucker for anthologies, and while some of the stories are a bit uneven, the effect of the whole is a colorful, musical ride through a fantastical, dark, humorous worlds.
The end of The Age of The Virus has brought about a return of “normalcy,” as then-candidate Warren G. Harding famously said during the 1920 presidential election. Normalcy is good, and I welcome it.
Granted, the world of today is not the same as the world of The Before Times, in the Long, Long Ago. Widespread lunacy seems to constitute “normalcy,” and the sane among us must do our best to endure it.
But if the The Virus fundamentally transformed the assumptions of our civilization—fear trumps freedom; coercion trumps liberty—the outward trappings of “the good old days” still stretch a thin facade of fun over the face of a conquered people.
So it was that my school celebrated its annual Homecoming this past week. It was fun, but fun can be a grind!
Hurricane Ian has been battering Florida, and South Carolina should be experiencing the effects of said battering today, albeit to a vastly diminished degree. The weather is calling for high winds and lots of rain, but nothing that seems (to me, anyway) particularly dangerous. I just wouldn’t recommend hanging out underneath any old trees.
Naturally, the slightest degree of inclemency prompts the shuttering of all operations for those of us in the cushier fields like education. Fear of the “L Word”—Liability—means my administration has opted to close the school today, lest some witless teen driver find himself, wheels spinning, in a watery ditch.
Of course, in this post-The Virus era—here in The Days After The Age of The Virus—there are no longer inclement weather “holidays,” as there were in The Before Times, in the Long, Long Ago. Now we can hop seamlessly online, teaching and learning from the comfort of our couches.
Hurricane Ian is swirling about, sending everything and everyone into a tizzy (folks in Florida, please be safe). It’s also thrown a windy wrench into my schedule, which was already planned down to the minute for nearly every day this week.
Well, no use crying over spilt rainwater. I’m thankful for the relative safety of the inland, and that we live in a time when we have some advanced warning about the impending meteorological apocalypses that routinely batter us.
This hurricane aside, we’ve been enjoying some pleasant weather here in South Carolina—it almost feels like fall! The mornings have been crisp and cool, and even required a light jacket one day last week. Here’s hoping the sweater weather descends soon.
Here’s hoping my readers in Florida and along the coastal regions of the Southeast are safe. Audre, be sure to batten down the hatches.
After putting out my appeal for contributors last week, Audre Myers immediately answered the call. Within a couple of hours, I had a piece from her in my inbox—and what a fun piece it is!
Audre is a woman of many talents and interests; one of those interests, I’m happy to report, is Bigfoot. While I’m not going to claim that Bigfoot exists, this site is pro-Bigfoot, in the sense that any musings about our aloof cryptozoological friend will always find a welcome home here at The Portly Politico. I even floated the idea of Audre doing a regular post about the hairy beast, but she said he’s been quiet lately.
Ponty has been plugging away at this Top Ten Best Films, and as I predicted, he’s suffering from an embarrassment of riches. Doing the bad films was difficult in some ways, but if you call a “bad” film wrong, it’s no big deal—no one would watch it, anyway.
Good films, while rarer, are still abundant enough to make the selection process difficult. Just when you think you have a sense for your list, you’re reminded of some classic that you managed to forget in the depths of your memory hole.
That was my experience when reading Ponty’s #9 pick. I love this film (which came out when I was in college), but somehow it had slipped my mind for consideration in my own list. What a fool I was! As Dr. Samuel Johnson wrote (to paraphrase, since I don’t feel like looking up the exact quotation): “We don’t need to be taught so much as we need to be reminded.” So true!
Well, Ponty did an excellent job reminding me in this impressive review.