Springfield News-Sun....Santa to All in Springfield, Ohio Dies at 67

(AP) Springfield, Ohio

Chuck Abernathy, Reporter

“Words cannot express the sorrow that I feel at this moment. No amount of tears can purge my soul of the loss. Bagwine Kringle gave so much to so many, and his passing will be felt the world 'round.”

That was the comment from one, Dex Lexler.  Mr. Lexler age 51, was a close friend to Springfield, Ohio icon and self-proclaimed Santa, Harley Rusbam, also known as Bagwine Kringle, and more simply, BK.

Mr. Rubsam, 67, of 819 Cedar St., was pronounced dead yesterday at Springfield Regional Medical Center due to an accidental ingestion of fish bones.

It seems BK and a couple of his “elves”, Tina Trinity and the aforementioned Mr. Lexlar, were hurriedly wrapping Christmas presents for some of the less fortunate local kids.

While Ms. Trinity and Mr. Lexler selfishly ran next door to grab a sandwich, Bagwine Kringle the workaholic that he is, ate what he had on hand and continued the Christmas assemblage.

He was hurriedly gulping down some Salmon Fancy Feast cat food and evidently began to choke on a small bone.  When Dex and Trinity returned, he was lying on the floor gasping for air.

Mr. Lexler called the paramedics while Tina attempted to ply Kringle with some Wild Irish Rose to relax his throat muscles.

She quickly found out that that was not the best idea.

He spewed out a mixture of WIR and bile that was described as, “a poorly made Sterno sauce with a stench reminiscent of Steel Reserve urine.”

Although nearing death, Bagwine Kringle was with his two best friends.

BK was with his dear friend Tina, whose street name is, “Bowling Ball.” Tina is a 48 year old prostitute with large breasts, two prosthetic legs, and a glass eye.

Her seductive wiles are legendary.  Some women can spread their legs incapably wide, but Tina, she can take hers completely off.

She is also very accommodating. If a client is feeling extremely kinky, she will pop out her glass eye, and let him give her, shall we say...a facial.

Tina is one who gives and gives, and that is why she and Bagwine Kringle were pals.

And then, there's good ol’ Dex Lexler, or “Sarge”, as BK called him.  Dex was never in the military, but BK always kidded him that he looked like the dog from Beetle Bailey.

True, the dog’s name was actually Otto, but BK was close. The two shared so many of the same traits…compassion, generosity, and cirrhosis of the liver.

They were of one mind inside of two bodies and now sadly, they are half the men they used to be…or something like that.

When paramedics arrived, BK was nearly expired. His lungs raled bilaterally, desperately gasping for air, but it was not to be.

Tina and Sarge looked down upon BK as they sobbed unrelentingly.

And then, as the medics placed him on the cart, Bagwine Kringle looked at his friends with that familiar twinkle in his one good eye, and with his final breath said...

“Don’t cry for me Sarge ‘n’ Tina.”

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

mattmaniws@ymail.com
@MattMan_IWS
My Facebook Page 

Let's Put the Fun Back in Funerals

Holaaaaaaaaa! I know what you’re wondering. You want to know what show I am watching now that I’ve finished with Dexter. Well, I’m glad you asked. I’m just started season three of “Six Feet Under.” It’s a show about a family that owns a funeral home, and yes, it has got me to thinking about my own mortality. However, I do want to make it perfectly clear that while I am not afraid of death, I am personally opposed to it.

I've known a few people who were obsessed with death and dying. In fact, they were more afraid of dying than anything else in the world, and not just because they knew that their families would find that stack of magazines and, you know, “stuff” they keep in a special box in their closets, either. Nor am I talking about those Goth freaks who walk around wearing black and put on makeup that makes them look like death warmed over all the time either. Some of those chicks are actually pretty hot. No, I'm talking about perfectly healthy people who actually sat around and worried about how and when they would die.

That’s pretty crazy, why would anyone worry about THAT? Once you’re gone you won’t be there to be embarrassed. You might as well just let your family and friends have fun with it. Same goes for your browser history. People will need a little comic relief at a time like that anyway. You know? Dying can be pretty funny if you think about it.

You know what else should be funny? Funerals.

When I was in college I had a professor of a team management class ask us to imagine our own funerals. It was a pretty depressing exercise for most of us. We all sat there thinking of a traditional funeral with huge crowds of mourners there bawling their eyes out. Everyone pretty much imagined the same thing. I think only a couple of us said we would do the cremation thing, and the rest of the class was evenly split on whether or not the casket will be open.

I gotta tell ya, since that time I’ve attended a few funeral and my views on how I would do mine have changed dramatically. The first thing was the realization that my funeral will NOT be a major social event. In fact, it would be very lightly attended. Well, IF I have one, that is. I doubt I will though.

Funerals are a huge racket. Why spend that kind of money? Just burn me, put me in a box and pour my ashes out along the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean near Monterey California. That would be pretty nice. Or you could have my ashes blasted off into space. THAT would be pretty cool. I don’t think I would be happy with a burial at sea because I have had nightmares about being eaten by sharks, and that would suck. As for being put in a casket and being buried, I’m a bit claustrophobic and caskets cost more than a decent used SUV.

Instead of a big, fancy or formal funeral I just want everyone to go somewhere and have a few drinks and some laughs. Maybe have a wake at someone’s house and crank up the karaoke machine. Everyone can dedicate a song to my memory. Another good idea would be for people to get up and do a comedy routine. Have some fun with the whole thing. Make it a night no one will ever forget. Oh, and don’t forget the dancing girls either!

Oh hell, who am I kidding? I’m gonna die alone and my body won’t be discovered until my hillbilly neighbor complains to management about the smell coming from my apartment. Then my body will be sent to the state to have medical students practice on.

Jayman3768@gmail.com
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Springfield Icon and Adored Secret Santa, Dead at Age 67

(AP) Springfield, Ohio
Chuck Abernathy, Reporter

“Words cannot express the sorrow that I feel at this moment. No amount of tears can purge my soul of the loss. Bagwine Kringle gave so much to so many, and his passing will be felt the world 'round.”

That was the comment from one, Dex Lexler.  Mr. Lexler age 51, was a close friend to Springfield, Ohio icon and self-proclaimed Santa, Harley Rusbam, also known as Bagwine Kringle, and more simply, BK.

Mr. Rubsam, 67, of 819 Cedar St., was pronounced dead yesterday at Springfield Regional Medical Center due to an accidental ingestion of fish bones.

It seems BK and a couple of his “elves”, Tina Trinity and the aforementioned Mr. Lexlar, were hurriedly wrapping Christmas presents for some of the less fortunate local kids.

While Ms. Trinity and Mr. Dexler selfishly ran next door to grab a sandwich, Bagwine Kringle the workaholic that he is, ate what he had on hand and continued the Christmas assemblage.

He was hurriedly gulping down some Salmon Fancy Feast cat food and evidently began to choke on a small bone.  When Dexlar and Trinity returned, he was lying on the floor gasping for air.

Mr. Lexlar called the paramedics while Tina attempted to ply Kringle with some Wild Irish Rose to relax his throat muscles.

She quickly found out that that was not the best idea.

He spewed out a mixture of WIR and bile that was described as, “a poorly made Sterno sauce with a stench reminiscent of Steel Reserve urine.”

Although nearing death, Bagwine Kringle was with his two best friends.

BK was with his dear friend Tina, whose street name is, “Bowling Ball.” Tina is a 48 year old prostitute with large breasts, two prosthetic legs, and a glass eye.

Her seductive wiles are legendary.  Some women can spread their legs incapably wide, but Tina, she can take hers completely off.

She is also very accommodating. If a client is feeling extremely kinky, she will pop out her glass eye, and let him give her, shall we say...a facial.

Tina is one who gives and gives, and that is why she and Bagwine Kringle were pals.

And then, there's good ol’ Dex Lexler, or “Sarge”, as BK called him.  Dex was never in the military, but BK always kidded him that he looked like the dog from Beetle Bailey.

True, the dog’s name was actually Otto, but BK was close. The two shared so many of the same traits…compassion, generosity, and cirrhosis of the liver.

They were of one mind inside of two bodies and now sadly, they are half the men they used to be…or something like that.

When paramedics arrived, BK was nearly expired. His lungs raled bilaterally, desperately gasping for air, but it was not to be.

Tina and Sarge looked down upon BK as they sobbed unrelentingly.

And then, as the medics placed him on the cart, Bagwine Kringle looked at his friends with that familiar twinkle in his one good eye, and with his final breath said...

“Don’t cry for me Sarge ‘n’ Tina.”

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_IWS
My Facebook Page 

Matt Said, Jay Said...888-836-7025

Matt strains to hear...Jay whispers...You say, what the fuck?

Matt:  Hello?
Jay:  hello.
Matt:  HELLO?
Jay:  matt…it’s me, jayman.
Matt:  JAY!?
Jay:  shhhh…keep it down.
Matt:  What?  Why the hell are you whispering?
Jay:  i’m at nana creta’s funeral and this is our only chance to prep before sunday’s show.

Matt:  oh okay…how’s the funeral going?
Jay:  oh fine, i haven’t embarrassed myself yet.
Matt:  excellent…is your hair still holding its own again the wind and the elements.
Jay:  it looks pretty damn good…if i do say so, myself.
Matt:  you just did.
Jay: i know right?

Matt:  hey…our show this sunday is a blog talk radio staff pick.  we need to be “on it.”
Jay:  i know…it’s as if btr knew i was grieving and vulnerable and decided to finally feature our show.
Matt:  it’s as if those bastards know when we aren’t ready.
Jay:  that’s okay; we’ll adapt and overcome.

Matt:  true dat.  what are you guys doing after the funeral?
Jay:  probably just hang out, and play some yahtzee or something.
Matt:  HA!!
Jay:  shhhhhhhh
Matt:  ooooo….sorry, but it’s funny you say that, because Schmoop and I are currently playing monopoly.
Jay:  awwww, that’s nice.  board games like that bring people closer together.
Matt:  i love board games, especially at this holiday time of year with friends and family getting together.

Jay:  maybe we could talk about our all-time favorite games n’shit.
Matt:  AWESOME IDEA!!
Jay:  DAMN MATT….SHHHHHHHH.
Matt:  you too…shush…
Jay:  oh jeez…okay, i’m better now.  that was close…
Matt:  everything okay?
Jay:  yeah, i think perhaps that one freaky cousin i barely know heard me, but it’s all good.
Matt: okay.

Matt:  okay then…we’ll talk about the holidays and board games bringing us all together with jesus and each other…

Matt:  jay?

Jay:  sorry…rev. moneymaker is eulogizing.
Matt:  our rev. moneymaker?
Jay:  well sure…he’s already on staff…why pay for an outsider?
Matt:  wow…from now on when i think of you, i will think…cost-effective.
Jay:  hey, money doesn't grow on trees ya know, but in a way, board games do.
Matt:  good point.

Jay:  alright then…i think we are ready for the games people play show.
Matt:  yes we are.  it should be a huge one.
Jay:  but not nearly as huge as the life that my nana creta lived.
Matt:  word.  a good woman through and through.
Jay:  yes she was, and will be missed.

Matt and Jay:  AMEN!!

Matt and Jay:  OH SHIT!!  shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

So folks, join IWS Radio LIVE this Sunday from Noon-2 PM ET as Jay and I discuss our favorite games, and as we discuss the wicked mind games that friends and family play throughout the holiday season.

To listen LIVE this Sunday, you can click right HERE!!  

Entering the Danger Zone

Holaaaaaaaaaa! Well, as Matt-Man mentioned yesterday, my Nana Creta passed away on Tuesday. She was 95 years old and lived a long and wonderful life. Sure, there were some hard times growing up in rural Arkansas, but she persevered and always made the best of it. She was born in Maumee, Arkansas in 1918 and grew up around St. Joe and then lived seventy-plus years in Yellville. She will be missed so very much.

Of course, this means I’ll be heading into the Danger Zone on Friday. That’s the day of the funeral and I’ll have to be on my best behavior. Anytime I have to attend a formal function like a funeral I have to remember that social disaster lurks around every corner. I have the potential to say something stupid at any moment. It’s gonna be an Afternoon of Awkward people!

Plus, I have to wear a suit. Hell, I had even forgotten that I owned a suit until I looked in my closet to see what I had and what I might have to go get for the funeral. It’s a pretty decent suit and it all matches which is a huge plus right there. I’ll just have to try to stop myself from fidgeting around and messing with my tie the whole time. It’s pretty bad when a 45 year old is more fidgety than the little kids.

It all starts at 12 Noon with a lunch at the Methodical Church over in Yellville. My primary objective during lunch will be to make sure I don’t spill anything on my shirt which is much easier said than done. I’m not sure what will be served but if it’s possible to drop a big blob of it on my tie and shirt, I’m sure I will. Damn won’t I look good up there with the other pallbearers with a big stain right in the middle of my shirt? OH GOD THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN ISN’T IT??!!??

Then there’s the funeral itself. Since funeral services are generally not very long it really won’t be that bad. Just a little sermon and maybe some people telling some fun stories and stuff like that. Immediately after the service comes one of two opportunities for epic embarrassment. I’m talking of course about possibly being THE ONE who either struggles with or even loses his grip on the coffin. Okay, that’s probably not going to happen because there are eight of us and I’M A BIG STRONG MAN! But, nothing is out of the realm of possibility here.

Let’s see, what else could go wrong? Oooooo I could have a massive fall allergy attack! That’s a good one. I’ll end up spending the entire day sneezing and snotting all over myself and people sitting or standing near me. Not to mention the hacking and coughing while the preacher is trying to speak. Man that will be super annoying!

My back could suddenly act up. That would be sweet. Sitting there in excruciating pain desperately needing to move around or lie down but not able to. Could you imagine how much fun that would be? Not to mention I would be walking around looking like someone shoved a corn cob up my ass. That’s always a good look. Also, if I’m in that kind of pain I’m far more likely to say something stupid and/or spill some food on my shirt.

Honestly, there’s a loooooong list of things that could happen. I’m not saying I think any of them will, I’m just saying it’s possible. Don’t worry though, I’m totally not stressing over this at all. Nope, not me. I know it’s all good.  Well, unless I have BOTH an allergy attack AND my back flares up! Yeah, that’s the most likely scenario.

Jayman3768@gmail.com
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@Jayman_IWS

Hump Day Hodgepodge

Cheeeeeeeers and Happy Hump Day Chuckleheads!!

A whole lotta nothing exciting going on around here, or is there?

Let’s find out, by just letting the personal headlines from my head ooze out onto the always artful pages of the IWS website.

Dateline…Commonwealth of Virginia…Headline reads…

Terry “I’m a Carpet Bagging Car Salesman” McAuliffe defeats Ken “Transvaginal Ultrasound” Cuccinelli to win the title of, Slightly Less Creepy of the Two Old Dominion Gubernatorial Candidates.

Dateline…Bagwine, Ohio Apartment 102...New Furnace Installed, Schmoop Gets Hot Just Looking at It.

The always cold IWS Radio bit player Schmoop, shone a rare smile today when she eyed a new Goodman furnace nestled snugly within the IWS Bagwine Studio.  Isn't it pretty?

Upon final installation of said furnace, she chirped…

“Sweet!!  Now I can quit using Matt-Man as a blanket, send him back to his couch, and get eight hours of quality, undisturbed sleep every night.  Praise Jeebus!!”

Sometimes when Schmoop speaks extemporaneously and I am within ear shot, it is quite hurtful, but…I sally forth, and hide my hurt and bitterness from her.  I only cry when she goes to work, or when I am at work, or…when she rests with a smile upon her face while I TYPE IN ANGER!!

Kidding, of course…sorta.

Anyhoo…

When I read my timeline on Twitter…I almost always say to myself, “America certainly does get the government she deserves.”

The tweets from the right and the left are enough to propel Hitler, Hindenburg, Stalin, and Trotsky to get along, and all the while asking each other…

“Let’s see if Roosevelt and Churchill would like to come over for drinks and a wicked game of charades.”

If America, any country, or the fragile sanity of the world is to survive, we all need to let go of this, “You’re either with me or against me” bullshit.

You know what’s funny?

Outraged TRUE conservatives like Sean Hannity and his tea bagging partiers want reform, and yet…

They cling like Socialists to the political meal ticket of the GOP.  They claim that they want reform, but don’t have the guts nor the electability to do it on their own, so?

They whine about their own party, which of course, they do “in no way belong”…

What?  Fucking pussies.

Left wing Democrats?  They are euphoric.  In spite of themselves and a President who couldn’t lead a baloney sandwich and a bag of pretzels from its paper bag into the mouth of a hungry, lunch-time sixth grader, celebrate the victory of last night’s elections.

What a joke.

Nobody cares about governing.  Nobody cares.  Left, Right, Conservative, or Liberal.  Nobody cares about you or I. Or about Peter, about Paul, about Shirley.  Ha!!

You thought I was going to say Mary, didn’t you?

Eh…Politicians just want to get re-elected, and folks like Hannity, Maddow, and others, just want to get ratings.

Many Americans want to be part of a winning team.  Whether it be a football team, a Baseball team, or sadly, a political party.

They want to win.  Unfortunately, while electioneering is a game of skill and chance, governing is not, and that is where Americans blow it.  A 51% to 49% vote total is not a win if the man or woman that we elected has no idea how to govern.

And lastly…

A shout-out to Jayman and his family, as oft time mentioned Nana Creta passed away yesterday afternoon at the age of 95.  I often made jokes about her longevity, and feel a missing of her already.

I dig anyone who can transcend the averages like she did, and am saddend by her passing.  So…

Pass your heart felt sympathies on to Jayman and his family today, if you would.  I am sure he would appreciate it.

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

Mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws
My Facebook Page

A Posthumous Birthday Shout-Out to Brother Vinnie

Cheeeeeeeeeers Chuckleheads and a Happy October 1st to you all.

October 1st is a HUGE day for a few reasons…

First of all, October 1st is World Vegetarian Day.

Sickly and pasty white vegetarians around the world will be celebrating their healthy and respectful lifestyles by lacklusterly patting each other on the back, sharing a bean sprout or two, and sneezing on one and other.

Here’s to you, you meatless and emaciated mo-foes; I’ll be thinking of you as I eat a BLT sandwich with a side of corned beef hash.  Enjoy your purity!!

Secondly…

Today is Unification Day in Cameroon.  Cameroon is the France of west central Africa (I guess), and they will be partying and unifying it up today.  Hey all you Cameroonians…Tell President Paul Biya that Matt-Man said, “Hiya.”

Thirdly and/or tertiarily (which is a word now, so shut up) whichever you prefer, today holds a very special place in my heart.

Today, October 1, 2013 would have been my brother Vince’s 60th birthday, but…he didn’t live to see it, yet nonetheless, I am going to celebrate it.

Vinnie, as most of us called him, was ultimately, surprisingly, and with alacrity, stricken down by cancer back on June 10th of this year.

It was very sad, because in addition to it being relatively out of the blue, the world lost a man who was incredibly funny, annoying, kind, and a perpetual surprise.

He was a man who was full of all sorts of manifestations of OCD which rendered his gutters without a drop of rain nor a single leaf contained within, and yet…out of the blue, he would call a person with a funny story and/or send a gift to someone.

Around the Greater Bagwine, Ohio area, his mullet is legendary.

His blondish red hair with the consistency of hot August straw which receded from his forehead and draped down his sleight back, was a testament to a bygone era, and both a challenge and a big fuck you to Billy Ray Cyrus.

Vinnie was the epitome of an Irish-German mix.  During the week, in stoic and methodical German manner, he would work 18 hours a day, 52 weeks week of the year if need be.  But on the weekends?

The spirits of St. Brendan, Brian Boru, and Oscar Wilde would take over his body and soul, and his inner-Hibernian would do a Celtic dance all over town.

On Friday and Saturday he would talk to every woman in the bar or at the party.  He would almost always do something “too spontaneous”, and then…

Sunday morning he would go to mass at St. Raphael’s either by himself or with a widowed 80+ year old friend of the family prior to taking her to breakfast.

Although Vinnie never had a family of his own per se, he was a family man to the core.  From his eight brothers and sisters down to the most obscure of cousins.  He loved his family.

And…He loved people in general.  It can be said of Vinnie, “He never met a stranger.”

That was so true in his case, because if you approached him, or he approached you without ever meeting before…he’d talk to you, listen to you, and if it was a Friday or Saturday night, he’d buy you a beer.

So…Happy 60th Birthday to my brother Vince.  He may have been a handful at times, but he is now resting in hands that are big enough, and worthy enough to hold him.

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws
My Facebook Page

Gotta Go!!

“Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.”

― Mitch Albom

I am not a huge Mitch Albom fan, but he has, over the years, written some stuff that is quote worthy.  And the aforementioned quote, is one of them.

Why is that you ask?

Well?  Let me tell you…

My brother Vince died yesterday, and well?  I still love him, and more importantly, he loves EVERYONE!!

No shit…Seriously?  Yes, he loved damn near every person in the world.

And here is the thing….The man was funny, and being funny is what we are all about here on IWS Radio.

And you know what?  Have you ever met that guy or doll who was unintentionally funny?  Yeah?  Well that was my brother, Vince.

I remember some 20 years ago, Vince and I decided to seal coat Mom and Dad’s driveway…Being men, we didn’t read the directions on the seal coat product.

We spent eight hours, 200 dollars, and a case of beer on a project that should have taken two hours, 50 bucks, and a twelve pack.

Neither Vince or I noticed that the seal coat product that we used worked best when water is applied to the driveway first.

However when we finally DID get finished…the driveway turned out to be the purest of ebony, while Vince and I were drunker than Lot while being accosted by his daughters.

Vinnie and I had many a good time together, some that are so heinous, that I shall not talk about today, nor will you, “Mizz Tanzy of the Rainforest”, whom Vince and I “met” backstage at the Greene County Fair in 1992 for the price of three Tilt-a-Whirl tickets and a warm, 24 ounce can of Pabst.

Shut your whore mouth, Mizz Tanzy!!

Vinnie was an anachronism as well…He as many of you know, kept the mullet.  He wore sweat socks with stripes, went to bed at ten, and at Christmas, instead of buying gift cards, he picked out awesomely personal gifts for people.

He was…my mom.  Okay, only I would have never breast fed from him, which I didn’t from my own mom, and now?

Okay, wait….This is getting creepy, but to get back to the point…

Brother Vinnie encapsulated and personified IWS Radio…

He was a guy who stayed on top of the news and would usually say of President Obama, Congress, or just about anyone who had something “important” to say…

“Really?  Are you fucking stupid?”

Yeah…He was more into personal fun and frivolity, and I mean that in a family way, and rather than getting caught up into the bullshit that is a politically driven life...

He loved his family; we still love him, and in the words of Mitch Albom…YOU still live among us, “even after you are gone.”

Here’s to you Vinnie.  Long may your Freak Flag wave!!

Cheers!!

Matt-Man
mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws

Poetry 'n' Such with Paul Piatt

Gentle, yet heartfelt greetings to all of you discerning drinkers of the warm and aromatic coffee of life that is the IWS website.

Renown poet and IWS Literary Editor Paul Piatt here once again, in order to share with you some of today’s finest in the world of poetry, prose, and people.

Today during our monthly and continuing journey of words made magical, and life’s pentameters made iambic, I introduce you to a fellow sommelier of intoxicating words, my friend and fellow poet, Vincent St. Millay.

Vincent hails from the rich and resplendent rolling hills of the eastern Kentucky coal mining cottage town, of Pikeville, KY., and writes in a tone and temper that reflects the austere background, and prevalent communal illiteracy in which his familial rearing took place.

Whenever I talk to Vincent at this time of year, he undoubtedly oratorically waxes lovingly in timbre and song much like that of the lucid and lyrical tones of a happily impregnated indigo bunting, as he verbally relives the festive Thanksgiving celebrations he experienced while growing up in a town of 6,892 people who were all related to one and other.

And while much of his poetry is sprinkled and written on the bias of good times for all, Vincent, in his award winning book from 1994, Maybe I’d Be Happier If Didn’t Smoke Bluegrass, sums up Thanksgiving from a different point of view…

That of the turkey…

View of a Turkey*

The turkey lay on a barrow dead.
It weighed, Eustis said, as much as three of Aunt Sheila’s head.
Its eyes closed, pink white feathers.
Its trotters stuck straight out.
Such weight and thick pink bulk
Set in death seemed not just dead.
It was less than lifeless, further off, but us it will fed.
It was like a sack of wheat.
I thumped it without feeling remorse.
One feels guilty insulting the dead,
Walking on graves. But this turkey
Did not seem able to accuse.
It was too dead. Dead without a head.
A poundage of lard will cook it up nicely.
No more dignity, just a few spicelies
It was not a figure of fun.
Too dead now to pity, but man, oh yum!!
To remember its life as he cackled about
Of earthly pleasure that had been cut out
Seemed a false effort, and off the point.
Too deadly factual. Its weight
Oppressed me — how could it be moved?
And the trouble of cutting it up!
The gash in its throat was shocking, but not pathetic.
And when I did cut him, I became apoplectic
To catch a strong gobbler
That was faster and nimbler than a cat,
Its squeal was the rending of screwing a chick who was fat.
Turkeys must have hot blood, they feel like ovens.
Their bite is worse than a horse’s —
They chop a half-moon clean out.
They mock you and curse you with their evil poultry shout.
Distinctions and admirations such
As this one was long finished with.
I stared at it a long time, and knew it would be delicious…ith
We scalded it clean
Scalded it and scoured it like a doorstep…

And then, we gave thanks, and ate it like ravenous wolves.

Feasting upon the death of a turkey, cranberries in their hemorrhoidal glory, and a Jell-O mold that looked like a liver gone bad.

Happy Thanksgiving gentle readers!!

For now, as I travel the road less traveled,

Paul Piatt
mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws

*With apologies to one of my favorite poets, the late Ted Hughes…