Sunday, May 14, 2017
Saturday, May 13, 2017
Sunday, May 07, 2017
Friday, May 05, 2017
Friday, April 14, 2017
Memories of page six
What do you get if you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?
Hot cross bunnies.
Hot cross bunnies.
Saturday, April 01, 2017
The sweetest season....
The chickadees are back.
Wrens pick pine nuts off the deck tree ...
Deer tracks disappear, ditto dirty snow.
We are very near now
to bunnies
and green
And I search for Jimmy Scott...
"For this time it isn't fascination
Or a dream that will fade and fall apart
It's love
This time it's love
My foolish heart..."
Wrens pick pine nuts off the deck tree ...
Deer tracks disappear, ditto dirty snow.
We are very near now
to bunnies
and green
And I search for Jimmy Scott...
"For this time it isn't fascination
Or a dream that will fade and fall apart
It's love
This time it's love
My foolish heart..."
Saturday, March 18, 2017
Saturday, February 11, 2017
Thursday, December 08, 2016
Wednesday, November 09, 2016
Saturday, July 23, 2016
Lucifer isn't just a hot sauce ...
July 23 2016
Donald Trump's GOP convention is over.
It made for a week of fascinating viewing on MSNBC, CNN and Fox, each with a twist on the line-up ... from the Ultimate Fighting Dude to subcontractors to the Hillary-murdered-my-son Mom.
Weeping. Screaming. Lynch mobs. Code Pink ladies in the balconies. I'm afraid I logged dozens of hours, slack-jawed in front of the TV.
Melania's little oops was adorable.
Recurring audience shots of red faces in even-redder gag wigs and hats was well worth the price of admission--that price being a substantial number of brain cells. Who doesn't enjoy General Flynn, whose appearance on Bill Maher's show the night-after was a nice encore for the frightened.
If Mike Pence is not a robot, he should be. His sad eyes, like Chris Christie's, show what his ambition has signed on for. The body language between Pence and Trump is hilarious. Sealed with an air kiss.
The candidate himself is beyond words.
The Republican hoohah was missing only an appearance by Lucifer, God of the Outer Darkness.
"Yes," he would thunder. "Hillary worships me."
If Ben Carson--Lucifer's spotter--lurks anywhere near a Trump White House, pray they give him nothing to play with but toys.
But I imagine the Politburo of Trump Children will see to that.
Scratch Don Jr, who will dance on Bill de Blasio's ass in the NYC mayor's race.
If I were young Barron Trump, I would change my name soon. Pray the witness relocation program can rescue him from this hotbed of ego and ambition.
And oh, poor Hillary.
I'm not surprised, just disappointed in Clinton's choice of Tim Kaine--a bland, pudgepoop of a running mate. Was Lucifer not available?
Yes, my fellow cynics ... two women would have been Too Much, and Cory Booker would be PC's Memories of Obama sauce. So no Bernie, Warren or Booker. Why deliver anything to the base in this all-important Trump showdown? The Democratic candidate picks the establishment, golly-jeepers white guy. Here, pass the mayo.
Hill and Tim will be trounced in every news cycle.
It will not be pretty.
And with every Breaking News TV banner, Trump will grow stronger.
I think Hillary Clinton has taken an impossible and dangerous risk.
Not even one hand clapping.
It's just an election, right? Right.
Donald Trump's GOP convention is over.
It made for a week of fascinating viewing on MSNBC, CNN and Fox, each with a twist on the line-up ... from the Ultimate Fighting Dude to subcontractors to the Hillary-murdered-my-son Mom.
Weeping. Screaming. Lynch mobs. Code Pink ladies in the balconies. I'm afraid I logged dozens of hours, slack-jawed in front of the TV.
Melania's little oops was adorable.
Recurring audience shots of red faces in even-redder gag wigs and hats was well worth the price of admission--that price being a substantial number of brain cells. Who doesn't enjoy General Flynn, whose appearance on Bill Maher's show the night-after was a nice encore for the frightened.
If Mike Pence is not a robot, he should be. His sad eyes, like Chris Christie's, show what his ambition has signed on for. The body language between Pence and Trump is hilarious. Sealed with an air kiss.
The candidate himself is beyond words.
The Republican hoohah was missing only an appearance by Lucifer, God of the Outer Darkness.
"Yes," he would thunder. "Hillary worships me."
If Ben Carson--Lucifer's spotter--lurks anywhere near a Trump White House, pray they give him nothing to play with but toys.
But I imagine the Politburo of Trump Children will see to that.
Scratch Don Jr, who will dance on Bill de Blasio's ass in the NYC mayor's race.
If I were young Barron Trump, I would change my name soon. Pray the witness relocation program can rescue him from this hotbed of ego and ambition.
And oh, poor Hillary.
I'm not surprised, just disappointed in Clinton's choice of Tim Kaine--a bland, pudgepoop of a running mate. Was Lucifer not available?
Yes, my fellow cynics ... two women would have been Too Much, and Cory Booker would be PC's Memories of Obama sauce. So no Bernie, Warren or Booker. Why deliver anything to the base in this all-important Trump showdown? The Democratic candidate picks the establishment, golly-jeepers white guy. Here, pass the mayo.
Hill and Tim will be trounced in every news cycle.
It will not be pretty.
And with every Breaking News TV banner, Trump will grow stronger.
I think Hillary Clinton has taken an impossible and dangerous risk.
Not even one hand clapping.
It's just an election, right? Right.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Enter the new year....
It's 5 a.m. Christmas Day, driving thru Algonquin Park. The lakes are still open. The New Year seems as ominous as the old.
Cookie season
When a gingerbread man breaks an arm or stabs his leg with a knife, you have to let him vent ....
All dog cookies must have smiles on their faces, for Christmas....
Monday, November 16, 2015
Parka Patrol
For CBC Radio fanatics who've asked about Parka Patrol, there is new evidence it existed.
The 54-episode series ran Saturday nights for two years in the '80s. Call it an odd blues fantasy, worshipped by forest rangers, loons and bath water boilers in the Canadian Outback.
Do you hear wolves? Me too. Hear them at....
https://soundcloud.com/gary-dunford/parka-patrol-cbc-birthday
The 54-episode series ran Saturday nights for two years in the '80s. Call it an odd blues fantasy, worshipped by forest rangers, loons and bath water boilers in the Canadian Outback.
Do you hear wolves? Me too. Hear them at....
https://soundcloud.com/gary-dunford/parka-patrol-cbc-birthday
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