The Tech Gods

Working in Tech Support you get to know every type of Tech Guy, and one of those is the OG Tech Guy. These would be the people who began supporting computers during the ‘80’s and ‘90’s, at least.

Back then computers were the stuff of legend. Hollywood drove this narrative with systems like HAL from 2001, or the WOPR from War Games. Computers were a new force in the universe, and those who knew how to control them were GODS, and many of them behaved accordingly, and having once been allowed to get away with this attitude, still act the same way.

The main problem that the OG Tech Guy is facing these days is waking up to the realization that, in an increasingly secular society no one gives a shit.

It’s The Barbs

as the harpoon travels
straight through flesh it tracks
quickest path to bone it makes
splitting skin as sinew severs
all soft tissue — forced.
to the hilt and to the core
barbs gouge and deep dig
snaggle-hold the deepest
as to flesh, so too memories
a scarred retreat from each
left in the wake that’s left unhealed


I came up with a new term this morning. I was talking to a friend at work and telling a story. In this story I needed to refer to someone as Christian. But I didn’t feel like saying the term because, well… I’m me.

But here’s the thing. As the constant migraines dissolve my brain into a puddle of gelatinous goo, with the occasional ZAP! of synaptic activity fizzling across it, I come out with odd term to replace the ones I can’t think of. And that muscle is getting stronger every day. And let’s not forget, I have been listening to a lot of Frank Zappa lately as well.

So, as I was blabbing along I referred to the person as an anti-heathen. Everyone paused and looked at me and asked, “What?!”

“Anti-heathen!”, I exclaimed. I pointed to my own chest and said, “I am a heathen. They are a Christian. That makes them an anti-heathen.”

A butterfly just flapped its wings

Prediction: Steve Bannon will be compelled to testify. He will refuse to do so, claiming Executive Privilege. Since Bannon seeks chaos and anarchy, he will try to force a Constitutional Crisis by saying that he can do so because he currently works for the real President, whom he will then assert is Trump.

‘Untitled’ (the frequent offender)

time to turn off all
your lost connections
let loose your hair
you choose selection

fine and dandy when
they’re all lined up
your logic blossom out from
what pleases your mind up

we make our world thru
choice and selection
start balls rolling neglectful intent
chilled to where go our affections

lapsing judgement ripples
thru time and tolerance
years later paying off with thoughts
cringe in regret’s blanket wince

your eyes be damned
as they transmit your wants
while words are worse yet still
skin shivers ripples and flaunts

physicality matters
in this solid manifestation
but intentions become clouds
that gestate expectations


The old white man
with white hair
with Grinch eyebrows
and mean eyes.
Never touched by smile
no creases or dimples
cold and sharp
intense in focus
on his target.
Reason his shield
logic his sword
with sharp tongue
he degrades you.
Your life status
always lower than
especially to she.
It’s all driven by
his need to hunt
emerges to strike at
what he despises
in you, me and them.
We are not worthy
to share his glory
at being him.

a cross

and so it’s passed from hand to fist
to rob the thief of ages
removing fear enjoining hands
embracing total strangers

prayer shifts the quantum stage
peace begets a germ of hope
love on loan doth sooth the dread
a part you are, collective soul

some how it’s me
my mother, your friend
passing along as potency forms
connecting the bonds in dew reborn

longing out for people you love
the web of a net, directed at you
all life suffers, the first noble truth
but a cross the valley eternity’s blue

luminescent life love
for longing each other
yet hand to hand this actually
calls down powers from above

a cross a time in altruism
ripples connect when do our eyes
some go forward, some stay put
from corpus christi to telluride

thou art that omnipotence
essence of all concentrate form
unbroken chain of pain and love
the power extends in cruciform

Naked, Raw, and Bold

the fellowship of men
fleeting and stark of eye
acid of fear churns out
burn away the phoenix fly

tender psyche drifts aloft
hunger feelings grasping
blanketing our inner thoughts
that dare speak everlasting

smallest of the voices wisp
both sounding like true me
golden thread in darkest night
the lone truth teller of Thee

separate the layers each
onion skinned and cold
tender touch and sorrow brief
leave naked raw and bold

Stop Arial Bold!

Has anyone else noticed that for such a grass roots movement, the Stop The Steal/Trump folks have somehow all managed to get their hands on professionally made, previously prepared, and ready-to-go signs, banners, flags, bumper stickers, and t-shirts, all of which somehow appear to have the same identical color schemes, font choices and design elements that indicate that they might have been created according to a specific branding style guide?

Does one actually exist?

Carrion or Carry-Out?

I have one of those giant useless tufts of grass in my front yard. It was there when I bought the place and it grows back every year, so that also explains why I still have it. It pretty much requires no maintenance, nor does it appeal to the local fauna for much of anything more than as a spot of protective cover between two more important places. So clearly you can see why I keep the thing. Nothing much happens with it. That is, until the other day…

As I am sort of waking (I’m extremely slow at it) up I hear my wife open the blinds next to me and then say, “What the hell is that?! Is that a groundhog? No, that’s a bird. Is that a bird?! What the hell is that?!” That last one was finally enough to get even me out of bed to look out the window.

As I looked straight down out of my window on my giant tuft of useless Suess-grass, I saw a big, brown feathered something sticking out from underneath it. It was just lying there with its front end into the base of the grass with it’s ass sticking out. The amount of body I could see indicated that it was easily larger than a duck. The only birds in this left in this area of New England large enough to still fit the bill were going to be either waterfowl, or raptors.

So I went downstairs to get a closer look, but in order to do so I had to open a door, and unfortunately that made enough noise for the bird to skedaddle. But not before I saw the tail and one giant wing open up as it took flight and headed off around a bunch of bushes and trees out of my line of sight. To the best of my limited knowledge, and based on the size of the talon marks it left behind in the bark mulch (below), there is only one bird in the area that it could have been.

But why the hell was it laying in my bush?! Contrary to what my kid’s think, I really do move enough to be considered a living thing by scavengers.

After reading a lot of stuff written by a bunch of smart people I have concluded that it was, well… sleeping I guess. And I am not even 100% sure I am right about that, but it doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility after what I have read.

While not necessarily their go-to, according to All About Birds by TheCornellLab “Turkey Vultures nest in rock crevices, caves, ledges, thickets, mammal burrows and hollow logs, fallen trees, abandoned hawk or heron nests, and abandoned buildings.”

So, here is my question finally: Does this mean turkey vultures just occasionally fall down and pass out in the nearest bush like Otis The Town Drunk?