Sunday, June 28, 2015

Dedicated with Heartfelt Sincerity to the Gay Community
Once I had a secret love
That lived within the heart of me
All too soon my secret love
Became impatient to be free
So I told a friendly star
The way that dreamers often do
Just how wonderful you are
And why I'm so in love with you
Now I shout it from the highest hills
Even told the golden daffodils
At last my heart's an open door
And my secret love's no secret anymore.
Doris, we hardly knew ye!

Friday, June 26, 2015


Tuesday, June 23, 2015

On the Light Side

__________ INEQUALITY __________

Today, there is no worse affliction
Than the curse of sex addiction.

Especially, if it's detected 
From the hetero-male directed.

Apparently, now it’s AOK
To parade naked, if you're gay,

But dare to give a broad the eye,
And you'll soon be hung out to dry.

Gays in public squares may tarry
Shrieking for the right to marry,

But no more do men dare to flirt
With e'en a wretched piece of skirt.

Since men are free no more to play,
Do feminists hope they'll all turn gay,

Or better yet be a Pretender
Cut off their balls, and change their gender?

~ FreeThinke

Sunday, June 21, 2015

A Different Side of Thomas Hood
Illustration to the Vauxhall Sonnet, engraving  by Thos. Rowlandson
Sonnet to Vauxhall

“The English Garden” - Mason
The cold transparent ham is on my fork—
   It hardly rains—and hark the bell!—ding-dingle—
Away! Three thousand feet at gravel work,
   Mocking a Vauxhall shower!—Married and Single

Crush—rush;—Soak’d Silks with wet white Satin mingle.
   Hengler! Madame! round whom all bright sparks lurk
Calls audibly on Mr. and Mrs. Pringle
   To study the Sublime, &c.—(vide Burke)

All Noses are upturn’d!—Whish-ish!—On high
   The rocket rushes—trails—just steals in sight—
Then droops and melts in bubbles of blue light—
   And Darkness reigns—Then balls flare up and die—
Wheels whiz—smack crackers—serpents twist—and then
   Back to the cold transparent ham again!

~ Thomas Hood (1799-1745)

Hood’s output was created at great cost to his health. In his early days he was a talented engraver working alongside artists such as Thomas Rowlandson (a man with whom he later often collaborated), but was compelled to abandon this profession and seek an outdoor life to recover his strength. It was a tough existence, for Hood became an invalid in 1841 and was saved from financial ruin thanks only to the intervention of Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel, who was a great fan of his works. 
When Hood eventually died, his family were granted a state pension –– and the public continued to adore him. A memorial was later built by public subscription in Kensal Green cemetery. 
As the century progressed Hood’s poetry and witticisms remained so familiar as to be often quoted in ordinary conversation. As late as 1903 William Rossetti (of Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood fame), perhaps somewhat extravagantly, described Hood as ‘the finest English poet between the generations of Shelley and Tennyson.’ However, fashions change, and so from these heady heights of appreciation Hood has quietly slipped into obscurity, and has long-since vanished from the standard English literature curriculum.

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Thomas Hood (1799-1845)

I remember, I remember.

I remember, I remember.
   The house where I was born,
   The little window where the sun
   Came peeping in at morn;
   He never came a wink too soon,
   Nor bought too long a day;
   But now, I often wish the night
   Had borne my breath away.

   I remember, I remember
   The roses, red and white,
   The violets, and the lily-cups,
   Those flowers made of light!
   The lilacs where the robin built,
   And where my brother set
   The laburnum on his birthday,
   The tree is living yet!

   I remember, I remember.
   Where I was used to swing,
   And throught the air must rush as fresh
   To swallows on the wing;
   My spirit flew in feathers then
   That is so heavy now,
   And summer pools could hardly cool
   The fever on my brow.

   I remember, I remember
   The fir frees dark and high;
   I used to think their slender tops
   Were close against the sky;
   It was a childish ignorance,
   But now 'tis little joy
   To know I'm farther off from Heaven
   Than when I was a boy.

~ Thomas Hood (1799-1845)

Thomas Hood (1799-1845) is a shamefully overlooked 19th century literary great ... His obscurity is all the more surprising when we consider how immensely popular he was throughout the Victorian era. 

During his short lifetime Hood overcame debilitating illness and grinding poverty well enough to be considered a national treasure. He contributed humorous articles to popular magazines such as Athenaeum and Punch, and also single-handedly ran his own magazine The Comic Annual (1830-42). He wrote just one novel –– Tylney Hall (1834) –– but poetry was his real forte.

Hood’s output was created at great cost to his health. In his early days he was a talented engraver working alongside artists such as Thomas Rowlandson –– a man with whom he later often collaborated –– but was compelled to abandon this profession and seek outdoor occupation to recover his strength. It was a tough existence. Hood became an invalid on 1841, and was only saved from financial ruin by the intervention of Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel, who was a great fan of Hood’s works. When Hood eventually died, his family was granted a state pension, and the public continued to adore him. A memorial was later built by public subscription in Kensal Green cemetery. ...

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Musical Toilets
Mistaken notions in the world abound ––
Unheard of at the time when I was born.
Surrounded –– soaked –– in crass, unwanted sound
I’m buried –– suffocated –– and forlorn.
Consciousness invaded by loud static ––
Ambushed –– conquered –– isolated –– snuffed ––
Languishes while Coarseness brays ecstatic.
The mind can’t thrive when with distractions stuffed ––
Over-filled –– with poisonous temptations
Instigating sullenness engaged
In assertive, mulish non-participation 
Erupting just when pointlessly enraged.
The times have changed; they have become deranged.
Silence, from our world’s become estranged.

~ FreeThinke

Monday, June 15, 2015

Dr. Barbara Bellar, fired for speaking out against the ACA

An Oldie but a Goodie
Sums Up Obamacare 
In One Sentence

We are going to be gifted with a healthcare plan
We are forced to purchase, and fined if we don't;
Which purportedly covers at 
least 10 million more people

Without adding a single new doctor, but

Provides for 16,000 new IRS agents; 

Written by a committee whose chairman says 
he doesn't understand it;

Passed by a Congress that didn't read it; but
Exempted themselves from it; and

Signed by a president who smokes;

With funding administered by a treasury chief 
who didn't pay his taxes;

For which we will be taxed for four years 
before any benefits take effect;

By a government which has already bankrupted 
Social Security and Medicare;

All to be overseen by a surgeon general 
who is obese; and

Financed by a country that's broke.

Friday, June 12, 2015


I frankly resent this cartoon, and so I've given it the Golden Bedpan Award. It foolishly portrays Her Heinous as either an amalgam with –– or reincarnation of –– President Richard M. Nixon. Neither one of the First Grifters has ever been fit to do so much as clean Mr. Nixon's boots at any stage of their odious careers. 

The broad acceptance by those too young to have seen it for themselves of the enemedia's determination to portray Mr. Nixon as a crook and an arch-fiend disgusts and depresses me. Hillary Clinton is not and never has been good enough to do so much as empty Richard Nixon's bedpan.

President Nixon was a brilliant, deeply serious, very fine, but largely unsophisticated man who always had the best interests of our country at heart. That he used any and every means at hand –– legal and extra-legal –– to preserve, protect and defend this nation from intellectual as well as physical aggression works much to his credit. 

He was a passionate, highly effective anti-Communist which, of course, put him at odds with the enemedia, most of academia, and the entertainment industry all of which were heavily dominated by atheistic leftist Jews bent on the destruction of our Christian culture, and the core principles in our founding documents. 

Because anti-Communism was virtually synonymous with "anti-Semitism" at the time, Mr. Nixon became the target –– and ultimately the tragic victim –– of a particularly vicious "witch hunt" on the part of the Leftist Establishment. The Left could not STAND President Nixon's stunning landslide victory that ushered in his second term in office. It threatened their ascendancy, so they mounted an Opposition Research Campaign of unprecedented strength and mammoth proportion. 

Mr. Nixon has often been described as "paranoid," because he KNEW what terrible forces he was up against. Unfortunately for our country the tactics his men used to try to protect Mr. Nixon were successfully used by the vicious, unprincipled leftist termites to destroy his presidency. 

Mr. Nixon's only "crime" was loyalty. He made an admittedly clumsy attempt to protect the men who had tried to protect him, and that's where the leftists got him. When it came to malfeasance, Mr. Nixon was maladroit. Alas! he proved no match for the unprincipled fiends who opposed him. He was neither vicious nor crooked enough to outfox them.

Nothing has ever been right in American politics since President Nixon was forced to resign his office Ronald Reagan's successful presidency notwithstanding.

Thursday, June 11, 2015


characterized by undue concern for trivialities, 
especially in a snall-minded, spiteful way

showing excessive concern 
with trivial matters or minor details, 

of a narrow-minded, mean, or small-natured 
disposition or character

marked by or reflective 
of narrow interests and sympathies

~ § ~

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

The Smart Art of Making 
Lemonade from Lemons
Several years ago my then brand new car was wrecked at an intersection, because a fellow was woolgathering instead of thinking and sailed through a red light at top speed destroying my car in the process. Miraculously, I wasn't hurt at all. If I had been eight to ten inches farther out into the intersection, I might have been killed or maimed. Instead, I thanked God for His great kindness in sparing me, and spent the next two hours trying to console the motorist who hit my car. 

The poor fellow  was a shuddering, shivering wreck and I really felt sorry for him, believe it or not. So, I reminded him how lucky we both were that neither one of us was hurt, and that his station wagon had suffered only minor damage. After we dealt with the police we went to breakfast together. He was a poor, middle-aged Chinese man –– a restaurant worker who was trying to put a son through college, –– but he insisted on treating me to breakfast.

At any rate, after that I decided it made a lot more sense for me to take the roughly $15,000.00 his insurance company paid me within a week and remodel my kitchen than to plunk it all down on another car, which is always a non-investment anyway. So, I did a little research and found the best deal available for leasing a car which worked out splendidly. I was able to have my cake and eat it too.

The point is this: When life hands you a lemon, don't whine about it –– think creatively, and MAKE LEMONADE.

Friday, June 5, 2015

Christine Jorgensen (1926-1989)


Does that mean I can be a Mom too, Daddy?

I'll believe it, if Tommy 
can become a Mommy.

Christine Jorgensen (1926-1989)