Nugget King Family Palace

I see you there,
Making my mouth wet,
Waiting in the buffet,
Fried corn nugget.

How far you’ve come,
Since your pilgrim feast,
Now dipped in oil by,
People from the east.

Savory creamed corn,
Wrapped in pure heaven,
Frozen for solidarity,
Cooked to perfection.

I slide past the rice,
Ignore the orange glaze,
Only to fill my plate,
With gold-breaded maize.

No need for soy,
Or mysterious MSG,
Nothing but corn,
To make me happy.

The dinner buffet price,
Seems sort of low,
When my pockets are filled,
With nuggets to go!

An open letter

Dear George,

I was trying to hold off writing this letter until the anniversary of your death, but I feel it can wait no longer. For the first time since you got sick, I cried tonight. I have been nothing but numb since those days a little over a year ago. I feel nothing but guilt over it. I should have shown you in those final days how much I cared for you and how much you meant to my life. For some reason I couldn’t, I don’t know why, I have no excuse.

Since then I have been unable to conjure up any kind of emotion for anything. I feel like I have been incapable of loving anyone, including myself. I am completely eaten up with guilt for being such a bad son to you. I know a lot of people (including you) would take this opportunity to disagree with me. I know in my heart that it is true. I know in my heart that I never gave near enough back to you for everything you did for me. I know in my heart that I continue to not give enough back to my mother, your beautiful wife.

I was supposed to be there that night; I was supposed to come the measly mile to see you in the hospital. Regardless of the fact that you were coming home the next night. You were in the hospital and I should have been there, there is no good enough reason in the world for me not being there. I know there is no way for me to know that I would never see you again, but I knew damn well that the days were drawing near. You would have never gone a day without seeing me if the situation was reversed.

I don’t know why I’m such an asshole. You did not raise me that way. You are the man that five days before you died, text messaged me to say happy birthday. I would give anything for those last days back. I know you are in a much better place now and I would say that I will see you again, but if heaven is a place for people like you, then I’m not sure I have any business there.

For a man that never wanted children, you became the best father any child could have asked for. You were a truly amazing man. I’m sorry I was not there for you when you needed an amazing son, you deserved it. My niece and two nephews are so lucky that they had an amazing grandfather. If I someday have children, I promise that they will know their grandfather too, if only in words and pictures. I can only hope to be half the father you were, with twice the son you had.

I love you George, I can’t now remember if I ever told you that. Yet another of my failures in an embarrassingly long line of them. Please forgive me, maybe if I can believe that you have, I can find some peace. Please thank God for me, he finally allowed me to cry tonight.

Your loving son,

Chris

Down here at the Pawn Shop....

Some people have called me an "English snob"; I don't believe I agree with them. I think that when amongst friends and family, strict language rules can be relaxed. I do believe however, that using correct English is the key to effective communication in our society.

While working at the pawn shop today, a man asked me "Ya'll ain't got no fifteens?". I immediately started analyzing what he was attempting to say. My question to you is this, exactly how many grammatical errors are in that one sentence? I counted at least four:

1) "ain't" - common slang for common idiots. Sometimes when people say this I like to ask them "Exactly what two words are you trying to contract?". This inevitably leads to a frustrated look and under-the-breath insults, which is alright with me. If I could hear what they had said, I would probably have more terrible English to translate, this sort of thing could snowball out of control.

2) "got" - is he asking me where I "got" something or whether I "have" something? My best guess is that he has no idea what he is asking for, he is just pretty sure I don't have it...er.... "got" it.

3) "no" - another common mistake for common idiots. The word he is looking for is "any", although I suppose his crusade to find "dope" stereo equipment has left him too fatigued for such an exhaustive search for the correct words to use.

4) "ain't + no" - used in conjunction, I believe they form a double negative. That would mean he actually thinks I do have the item he seeks. Now this is the one I'm confused about, because since "ain't" is not a word, then I guess I am just assuming that it is the first negative. You know what they say about assumptions....

Now some might say a fifth error exists. "Ya'll" is very ugly English no matter what, but I believe that if it is actually spelled "y'all" then it is a valid contraction. Since I could not "see" the words he was using and how he would spell them, he gets a pass.

I love my job(s)!

Prologue: At the moment he asked me the question above, I had 6 shotguns and 2 rifles to my left, 6 semi-automatic pistols to my right, I'm just saying....

The Diner in Norman

I wake up,
From the deep,
Realize its Sunday
And almost weep.

We’ve been apart,
Mid-fortnight,
Its been too long,
Without a bite.

The line was long,
But I didn’t complain,
Even if it was,
Half-block down Main.

Huevos Rancheros,
Not for me,
Just give me the usual,
And let me be.

Chicken fried chicken,
Scrambled cheese egg,
Hot sauce and home fries,
Don’t make me beg.

Of course I want,
Biscuits and gravy,
Not the grits,
That’s just crazy.

The Sooners played great,
Last night was fun,
Refill the coffee,
And I’m done.

It’s time to leave,
Move the car seat back,
I know that dinner,
Will only be a snack.

An Ode to Memphis BBQ

Of them all,
You are rare,
Memphis Bar-B-Q
Let me share.

The best there is,
I am told,
Your flavors sweet,
And your spices bold.

When I eat you,
I do believe,
My mouth is on fire,
But my hunger relieved.

Falling off ribs,
Grilled on wings,
Poured on spaghetti,
Flavor coating my dreams.

Ranch is jealous,
Mustards a plant
Ketchup will try,
But it simply can't.

Make meat taste,
As good as you,
Thank you God,
For Memphis Bar-B-Q.

Nerds are.....er....Sexy?

Do you love nerds? If so, this guy is your cupid. Eef Barzelay, former Clem Snide front man has succeeded where only the boys of Lambda Lambda Lambda dared to tread, making nerds look sexy. On his sophomore release "Lose Big", Mr. Barzelay doesn't necessarily break new ground, but what he does is he rocks a little, rolls a little and writes one hell of a song. Eef dons his hollow-bodied Gibson and hits each rusty cord with a stomp, bedroom music this may be, but his soulful lyrics and blues sound make this album perfect for any small gathering of humans. The first absolute classic is the second track "Girls Don't Care", where Eef sings in defense of all those girls in love with a douche "girls don't care/that you yearn to be free/girl's just want/a sweet melody". So true Eef, so true, how does a nerd get the female condition so right? Eef touches on the mystery of death with "Making another tree" crooning "bless me Lord/I'm only after/what you promised me". Damn this guy gets it, must be all that readin' and writin' while everyone else partied, damn I should have read more...NERDS! With plenty of good stuff in between these gems and a solo version of his own Clem Snide hit "I love the Unknown", this is one of those rare albums that isn't the next big thing, but is damn good from start to finish. Go ahead and put this album in for a spin or two, then tell all your friends how much you love the new Eef Barzelay, then watch all their eyes roll. It's ok, that is what indie music is all about, you know better then they do, you always have, nerd.

A Poem by a child with Autism, written by his teacher.

If You Only Knew

I am a boy,
Just like him,
Maybe not the same,
But certainly not dim.

Our views, different,
On many things,
Such as life,
And the joy it brings.

Facts and figures,
They come to me,
Out of dense fog,
With perfect clarity.

Numbers, they dance,
Around my brain,
I trust the sum,
It remains the same.

But his face is strange,
And his expression queer,
That silver tongue,
Is causing me fear.

Why doesn't he say,
The things he means,
Instead of these lies,
Disguised as pleasantries.

I'm not doing well,
The weather's not fine,
You wouldn't be rich,
If you'd have a dime.

You are called normal,
And I'm called lame?
Ask a million people,
They'd say the same.

Excuse my scream,
It's just you,
Contradictions hurt,
If you only knew.