Tuesday, September 27, 2016

A Verbal Bull Fight

Glued to the screen last evening for the first Presidential debate of 2016, the following image appeared in my mind : a Mexican stadium, a bull ( Donald ), a gladiator ( Hillary ), and a stadium filled to the rafters with rabid fans.

The bull, rushing into the center of the jousting circle, his reddish orange mane wildly cascading more lion like than bullish, his head bouncing to the trumpeter's trill, finally eyed his opponent dressed all in red. This female gladiator needed no red muleta to incite this bull In question. May the contest begin !

Rather composed and placid the smallish lady in red did little to agitate the huge bull who seemed to be building up a head of steam. Poor Lester Holt could neither keep the bull on a time schedule nor on  topic since, time and time again, the bull interrupted the answer the lady in red was giving. The hour and a half match was but a third over when the big bull hit the wall, he showed signs of fatigue, began incessantly stammering. - "Game Over" -.

Verbal stilettos did a good job on this bull that needed no ordinary ones to get the big bull to lung at the gladiator. All the ranting and raving from under the reddish orange mane was superfluous to the final outcome. Crowds cheered and dispersed as I turned off the television and then settled myself down to find sleep.

Ronald C. Downie

Monday, September 26, 2016

If, Big Boomers - Boom

As ash settles, quiet engulfs the Earth :
No birds, no animals, no people, no ... !
Annihilation complete, even birth.
What was, gone now ! Votes matter ! So, ..., so !

Boys clamor to rule, but, falter to lead.
They can extinguish life, lack empathy.
Tired of bombast, sorry voters plead
Their case : girls matter, seek telepathy

In the cards, not a simplistic answer :
Governing's a gift, unfit a simpleton.
Our World's not a toy, we're not pawns, either.
Our chance, though hidden, beyond convention :

November 8th, the day of reckoning,
Holding the cards; life's, life is beckoning.

Ronald C. Downie

Friday, September 23, 2016

Looking For "The Do Nothing's"

Where is he ? Your federal member of the house, your representative, was on a seven and a half week vacation, came back into session, but now's out again, I'm told, to ready for elections. Is your's hiding, shame faced, somewhere in the bushes ? Maybe, he or she, is on a junket with a financial heavyweight supporter. That is not an outlandish thought !

Your member of Ryan's Lack Luster Representatives did little, if anything, this year. No help for Flint, Michigan in their epic battle for lead free water is a real travesty. Washington, DC. has turned into a a junk yard where, instead of passing dynamic legislation designed at improving the lot of all of us, there leaders pile up like old cars waisted efforts to legislate effective policy benefiting mankind.

The organizers of this country anticipated House members and Senators, as well, would go to The Seat Of Government and serve for a short time period then go back home to their occupations and live out their lives there. Legislating was never expected to be a life long endeavor.

Once newspapers had sufficient staff to tell us these answers but the gutted press, turned into eunuchs, can't even write about national issues these days. It comes down to you and your vote to do what you can to keep tabs on your representative. Vote out incumbents if you're dissatisfied with them ! Join a movement to limit terms of elected officials !

Ronald C. Downie

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Looking At My Hands

My hands, when I look at my hands, why do I see an eternity in them, all deeply lined and knurled up, ghost like. I'll be eighty two shortly but, by the palms of my hands, I only see something ancient, dangling mummified, at the end of my arms. It is immaterial that my hands ache constantly even though I take increasing dosages of the drug, Neurontin, thought to lessen pain from neuropathy brought on by diabetes. Advanced age, wrinkles, and new pains seem to go together quite nicely in their pursuit of finality. Although people don't seek nor wish for finality, the end is out there for each of this planet's population so -do your best with the time you have-.

Ronald C. Downie

Monday, September 12, 2016

The Crotch 

After two weeks of tennis, tennis, tennis I am trying to get myself weaned from the insistence of serve and volley. Last evening the men's final was played : Stan Wawrinka out dueled Novak Djokovic to win the Championship Trophy.

Stan and Novak out lasted the bigs, who seemed to go down early in the tournament ; also the quicks, who seemed to run out of pep ; then the also rans who ran out of steam. It's a long haul these two weeks of torrid play which ended last night. 

I do have an observation that speaks to tennis over the multitude of years I've watched the sport on TV.  For years the premier tennis player was Rafael Nadal who has faded recently because of injury and most likely age. This Spaniard may be remembered for the reflex action he displays, especially, each time when he serves the ball. Prior to serving : Rafael tugs at his behind and under garments, then his sleeves, his hair, and then he swipes at his nose. 

I remind you of this because the winner last night, Stan Wawrinka, must be wearing similar undergarments which Nadal wears. Too often Stan tugs at his bottom, I figure, to relieve the unnatural feeling of something crawling up his leg and bunching up in his crotch. These players ought to checkout an army of of undergarment manufactures making their garments here. I surely hope this reflex is not catching !

Ronald C. Downie

Fish mongers, openly for public viewing : gut and scale, slice and dice, de-head and wrap your fresh fish for home broiling ; money mongers are less obvious, they do all their work behind closed doors.

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Our Connor's Journey

Without song or dance,but with measured thought,
Our grandson, Connor, stands his adult ground
Determined, energized, his ideas sought
Among his peers. His ideas are found sound :

His journey of continued improvement
Surfaces, emphasizes his mastery
Of a sound footing, knowledge commitment.
No stutter step alters trajectory :

Oft on a starry, starry night, he looks
Up realizing others experience
Similar feelings. Not alone, in books
The World is laid out with man's dominance :

Connor, illumination is needed
Whether day/night, your intellect's seeded.

Love, Nanny&PopPop

Monday, September 5, 2016

TV Ramblings

Waiting patiently, first Saturday of September after a week of storms, for the Penn State/Kent State game on TV. Ohio State is humbling Bowling Green as I await games end on the same station. I'm lounging deep into my huge recliner that I've become too comfortable in. The Blue Band, in all its splendor, has taken the field at Beaver Stadium awash in crazed fans constantly hollering their home team chants. It must be a crazy afternoon there that I'd love to experience just one more time before my life's end. That's not to be, so TV remains the best alternative.

With TV my main connection with current life outside the house, I've become disillusioned with some TV antics that wears me out. Take a football game happening in rhythm when all of a sudden the ref's call for stoppage of play because they want to, not only review the previous play once but twice, belaboring the game and interrupting the flow of the game incessantly. Zebras have a place in this world but not so much in a football game. Thank goodness, Penn State won handily.

But my biggest peeve, toweling ! No matter, how much moisture is apparent on tennis players, a nod from any of them, causes a ball boy/girl to spring into action, towel in hand, while we the audience wait. Just think, boxers swing at each other, but time out, as trainers bring out the towels and wipe down their contestant because they're perspiring. Or, tie score, 3-2, pitcher starts his windup, but wait, timeout, there's a beed of sweat noticed by a coach on his pitcher's forehead. By goodness, stop the game - stop the damn game - what do you think, is this football ? Hey Connie, get me a warmed towel, I feel moisture building up on my brow.

Ronald C. Downie

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Three and Counting

Three weeks in Florida and catching the tail end of a potential hurricane, if so, the first to make landfall on mainland Florida in eleven years. The Phillies' winter home seems under more severe rain than we are in Nokomis some 70 miles south. The brunt of this storm expected to make true landfall considerably further north than Clearwater around midnight. Then Hermine with increasing land speed will sweep northeast across Florida, Georgia, and the Carolinas finally petering out somewhere to the north.

These same three weeks I've tried to learn of Phillies games but little if any news of this winter home team could I find. Just like disenfranchised Phillies fans up there devoid of winning ways, local sports announcers down here, mustn't think much of the local winter team's season. Of course, I'm only a fair weather fan at best. Maybe local sports announcers busy with winning teams's news have little interest in reporting about a team steeped in losing.

I hope the storm acts reasonably, I hope announcers do the same. Life shouldn't be mole hills made into mountains nor pasture streams into torrents but moderation taken to it's nth degree.

  Ronald C. Downie