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Graff1980 May 2015
I feel like I am neurologically deficient
That a lot of my brain cells are missing
Like a punch drunk doped up punk boxer
A pimply muscle bound ***** on steroids
Hanging out at my old high school locker
No shocker that I am no medical doctor
But I always thought I’d be just a bit better
I guess on average I am a little bit smarter
But the bar is set so low that it requires
Very little to grow and go over it, you know
In comparison to the other young men
I may be grandstanding and one upping them
But when it comes to grand scheme of things
When compared to past people
Who shared my glorious dreams
Like Percy Shelley and John Keats
Like Ginsburg and the other Beats
I think I am drifting of course just a bit
Lest we all forget the **** cut the crap to fit in it
Maybe I’m okay few travel this way anyways
So who’s to say if I’m doing it the wrong or the right way
But I still feel like my brain needs a chemical treatment
A diet with more nutrients and sufficient Supplements
Because I’m feeling neurologically deficient
James Floss Oct 2018
We'd bound around
For golf downtown
Frisbees always in hand

"The students are coming!!”
Was a seasonal refrain
As we’d goofily gallivant

Mother’s Day shows
We‘re free, mother-suckers
For your kids, a show we grant

A CLOWN SHOW!
A DOWNTOWN SHOW!
THERE IS NOTHING WE CAN’T!

Rock their world with juggling
See the Doctor for what ails
Rudi and O in laundromat land

Jeanie, Splash, Allison, Donna,
Silly girls astonishing with
Leaps, jokes and handstands

Chewey, Steamboat and Grog
"Yeah-yeah! Yeah-yeah!”
Silly boys grandstanding

All hail Papa Gale! We
Funned with Cpt. Plunge
Leader of the band!

Sweet Georgia!
**** croquet!
It was grand!



(**** croquet was the official lawn game of the Sweet Georgia Brown Clowns during the summer 198x Trinity Country tour [wherein we masqueraded as a Norwegian Salmon Kissing team at a Moose Lodge Talent Show in Lewiston, CA* {true!}]: “Don’t forget your hat!”)

*(we won)
Commuter Poet Nov 2016
Young politician
Remember to learn
Before you try to lead
'Driving up standards
Takes leadership', you say

Leadership is listening
Leadership is caring
Leadership is learning

Leadership means reforming your own character
Instead of trying to reform others

Before you build something new
Build on what is there

Young politician
You are there to serve
Not to dictate
You are there to explore
Not to judge

Young politician
Others must guide you
For you may guide yourself and others
To desperation
18th November 2016
Jolan Lade Apr 2018
I dont understand
I thought i had a plan, a way
I got born into this wasteland
Shot into this quicksand
I want to name it a no man´s land
But everyone want´s to claim the right
And they fight
I have trouble understanding.
They hand me this brand
Then commanding me to do "an expanding"
In this world where everyone is grandstanding
Im trying to throttle down to make this landing
One thought scares me
That this might be everlasting.
!M just a little one who´s in progress, far from finished...
Raj Arumugam Jul 2011
I think, Sirs, and most inimitable Ladies
I think I prefer to look at a bull
The sketch of a bull, the head of a bull perhaps
even if but a study by an artist
rather than some fancy prophet in glorious paint
or in grand chapel or some miracle recounted
in paint and colors and with consummate skill
or even God descending – ah, all these do not take my fancy
they smack too much of the Elevated;
there’s too much
of the grandstanding in these
Grand Divine Themes -
but the face of a bull, ah give me a sketch
of the face of a bull
just the bull, all marks of nature in it
and just itself
no symbolism, no conceit, no artifice
no High sounding theology, no revelation
but just animal nature in its ******
being a bull
just animal, its eyes and mouth and horns
just all coming together to form one creature…
a portrait of a bull anytime for me -
Sirs and most inimitable Ladies -
none of the holy ones and the great prophets
and the Mighty and the Divine
and the Grand-Looking:
no bull for me, please;
just the plain head of a bull, as it is…
ompanion pictures:Rosa Bonheur with bull, Versailles,  by Edouard Louis Dubufe; also google for other paintings of bulls and cows by  Rosa Bonheur
betterdays May 2014
a monkey
from a barrel
once said to me,
can you appreciate
the absurdity
of a life
run on
the
collation
of wealth.
scrabbling
to find a monopoly.
not caring for
individuality
just racing
to be the last
man standing.
"numero uno"
grandstanding
with a poker face,
always having
to win the race.
hungry hippo,
grasping, grasping
all the time.
no patience for
games,
even life.
just running the board
playing chess,
all the time.
just waiting for the
mousetrap to fall,
kerplunk.
then just left  to
pick up the sticks,
to deal the cards,
for a game of  
go fish.
the mind just
boggles,
at the thought
of the frantic images wrought
by the monkey
and the mind games
he played
so i stuffed him back
in the barrel
where
he now
stays
he
and
his
bamboozling
jigsaw
puzzle
patter.
Cedric McClester Oct 2015
By: Cedric McClester

Yesterday, today
And tomorrow
Through finger pointing
Recriminations and sorrow
There’s little else
On which to borrow
Other than pretending
At trying to be thorough

Just who do they
Think they fool
By invoking
Congressional rule
Using oversight
As a weapon or tool
While grandstanding
And being cruel

After eleven hours
Of having been grilled
Their objectives
Still haven’t been filled
No blood on the floor
Has been spilled
‘Cos the witness
Just answered and chilled

Clearly she’s much wiser
And older
She brushed their accusations
Right off of her shoulder
As their questions
Got hotter not colder
She dug her heels in
Like a soldier




Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015.  All rights reserved.
Robert Ippaso Aug 2021
You may well ask where am I,
Am I engaged or fully checked out,
Take a seat, happy to clarify,
Placate your mind, dispel any doubt.

I'm Biding my time and that's not a joke,
Giving the old guy time to implode,
He's senile and tired, befuddled and woke,
Any wires remaining will for sure  overload.

The Border is crumbling, COVID runs wild,
Afghanistan gone, China supreme,
Kamala in hiding, lost and beguiled,
Progressives now surging their wishlist extreme.

Nancy grandstanding, Chuck babbling loud,
Cuomo shot down, who would have known,
Just goes to show it's good to be proud,
If your cover is solid and not wholly blown.

I'm mulling and watching disasters untold,
Inflation unbridled, crime running wild,
The Media's support from lukewarm to cold,
Uncle Joe's moods ever more riled.

Well may you ask why I seldom now speak.
The answer is simple and easy to grasp,
Time is my friend as you see week by week,
And eventually bites like a poisonous Asp.
The morning,
shifting weight will sit,then
Pow,
will jump and with a giant fist
hit me in the face,
a knockout blow, thus starts another daily show
of grandstanding,
landing back upon my feet with eyes quite bleary,
I go out to meet
the coming of another day.
One more act,scene two,part one,the morning carries on as if
I wasn't there at all but later in the dining hall,I hear the call
of afternoon and morning's gone so soon,so soon,
another moon before I see its like.
MRQUIPTY Jul 2016
rebars rust splitting concrete at irons cost
grey dust falls away from exaggerated wires

urban decay promoted by grandstanding
youth atop another. marker pen names .
inspired rap crap anonymity shouts
I woz here ( to those in the know)

sterile pens these days not even sniffable.

brains over and out on wifi . WAN faces
from vitreous messages blinking out
hate and spite for structures. Scenes
are augmented hunts of ghouls.

next addicts in line: petting in play
gyms on street corners. Cartoon
wars have no conflict?

clouds of vape a new narcosis .
in stupor we watch them
swallowing grey bytes flaked
off the cable networks of yuff.
missing a voice
the letter R is a letter
which commands recognition*
all focus on the R letter's
elevated position

who would dare avert
eyes away from R's shine
every facet of R borders
on the divine

A, B, C, etc aren't of
R's lofty standing
they're all prone to
silly grandstanding

the letter R is in a league
ever so brill
nothing can equal
*R's overkill
I’m writing a poem right now


I do to want to writ ea poem right now

why?  leave me to my coffee, and my music

go away

leave me to my flowers, I do not care for the page

I do not care for this stage, please stay away


I’m writing a poem right now, and I definitely resent it

I’m grandstanding my own serenity, with your chaotic beauty


jeez, put a shirt on

jeez, you’re too bombastic!!  


I don’t want to write your poem

because I’m just to cool for that

like, I’m so cool that I won’t eve write another poem again ever

and I’ll still just be a weird poet

wouldn’t matter


so I’m not going to write it
WA West Nov 2018
There is no grander way my spirit of dissolution is lined with angel's teeth hands exploring,
indulging themselves bulwark of a new day's dream rigid of eye,
Colliding with mutinies as in the mechanical cavorting of creatures marching,
Past albatrosses appearing and hindering caffeine messengers from the ether,
Somewhere if not here aborted holding hands with disdain there are many ways to be anything.
words exchanged with impossibility are untied threads piling up until there is time spare to sketch them with morning breath,
preoccupation grandstanding efforts minds broken **** coloured dawn of convenience rigid and timebound,
all must inhale the earth smoothly
Burlone Jan 2019
There it was..
Sun soaked smiles
I held your hand
Laughter for miles
As we wiped off all this itchy sand.

There it was...
Moving clouds and you splashing puddles under your feet
I smile, ask you to listen to the rain drops
You smile and tell me I'm sweet.

Rain begins to splinter
With every snow flake
The idea of loving you begins to awake
We drop in to the drift
Waiting to make snow angels in the winter

Head so high, drunk on your clouds
Leaving your warmth for the moment  
For the cover of lascivious linen shrouds

My eye was caught in the beauty of another brand
I am no cheat
Grandstanding on clay feet.
I feel so small as I crash land

So Here it comes...
The loneliness.  
Footprints of accountability
Brings a brushfire of guilt
Standing, spitting into the wind

Here it comes...
Discontented swan dive
As I drown every single emotion
Stuff it in an empty bottle
Cap it all off and let nothing escape
Before I drink it all and the bitterness eats me alive

Here it comes...
This sense of reality leaves me dimwitted  
My sense of humor was all for naught
I realized I'm not as funny as I thought.  
Poking holes in my glass ceiling
You throw one last stone, to begin the healing.

Here it is...
Mistaken moments
Like floaters in my eyes
It all catches on fire, this paper virtue crafted with lies
Cardboard cutouts warping from the scorching heat

Here I am...
Transparent aggression, Flimsy and amusing
Plastic right down to the core
A crocodile getting his head bitten off at his own watering hole
Now laughing at me through the glass door.
Guilt and shame become mounting debts
So now it's that time to run and hide
Borrow from tomorrow
To forget the end of day regrets

I will no longer complain
I will ignore the pain mounting
I will turn and burry my face in my hands
Go ahead and run and hide
I'll never stop counting
I will no longer try to find a way out of this hole
I promise I will never be so bold
Quite and dumb
I'll just lay under the fold.
Where the rain no longer makes a sound
And the snow melts before it hits the ground

You left before I ruined you
You dodged a bullet from this emotional killing spree
You can watch as the shell of me cracks
I rather you pity me than despise me.        

So stay and watch me fall from the tree
no longer this clinging fruit
exist under the field of wilted weeds
Silent and Unseen I lay waiting in this dying root.
I just wish someone could of seen
The beauty that once laid within me...
Robert Ippaso Nov 2019
Whispers and innuendo,
Partisan politics tearing us apart,
Grandstanding and deflection,
Are we not placing the horse before the cart?

A divisive President
This much we all agree,
But our actions matter,
This surely we must see.

Impeachment is not the answer
When facts are merely ploys,
Interpreted, discarded,
Like a child’s forgotten toys.

Democrats all shouting,
Republicans dismayed,
Eye rolls and bluster,
Each entrenched not to be swayed.

Forgotten the crumbling bridges,
The misery of those without a roof,
Healthcare that’s little caring,
Policies enacted on the hoof.

Progressives on soap boxes,
Berating us to change our ways,
Ditch the cars, eat just plants
You haven’t years, but merely days.

Conservatives all hiding,
Resistance the key word,
Dig more coal, farm those parks,
Their inverted thinking so absurd.

Are we all this angry
That reason we can’t find.
Have our senses dissipated
To the point of turning blind?

What legacy our children,
A society torn apart,
Our moral compass lost,
A sail-less boat without a chart.
Robert Ippaso Jan 2021
In with a bang out with a whimper
An American story reminiscent of old,
Brashness and vigor, street smart and temper,
Rising to greatness then collapsing stone-cold.

How could this happen in this day and age,
Have we not learned from lessons long taught,
But there lies the moral, we gave him the stage,
His victory gifted, neither stolen nor bought.

The reasons were many, the anger profound,
The swamp and it's dwellers entitled and deaf,
Their smugness alone caused Trump to be crowned,
With neither side listening, as each out of breath.

But what of the Media, greedy and loud,
They built up the story their coffers to fill,
This great institution at one time so proud
Debasing core standards their audience to thrill.

What next may we ask, back to the same?
Politicians grandstanding, jostling for power,
Caring little for action, just personal fame,
Riding the airways, seizing the hour.

Enough of this folly, time to unite,
Reason and truth need blossom anew,
Our democracy young, our future still bright,
Faith in our system we must now renew.
after reading the article
(published in the July + August 2024
issue of Mother Jones)
titled Raging bull - Donald Trump's
pugilistic spokesman has taken
campaigning to a whole new level of low.

Beyond the lookout
for Huyen "Steven" Cheung
(born June 23, 1982)
an American political advisor
Donald Trump's campaign spokesman
in the 2023–24 Republican primary
and served in the Donald J. Trump administration.

He previously worked in Trump's 2016
and 2020 campaigns.

Brilliant gifted package of brains and brawn,
his crude quips against opponents,
(which includes politicians of all stripes),
cut down and figuratively quartered
reduced courtesy raw bits of biting riposte
forced into thralldom, cuz Trump world
adversaries sacrificial fodder roasted alive
all stops pulled out except blood relatives,
where merciless cutthroat antagonism drawn
sycophants molded like putty in the hands
of Voodoo magic spellcaster henchman
disabling staunch radical transgressors

think how frozen blinded deer fawn,
videre licet buckle under headlights glare
immobilized lifeless body
courtesy invisible hawn
fricasséeing, mincing, skewering,
and frankly zapping unwitting victim
par for the coarse faux jambon,
or sprinkled as rich nutrient
upon manicured lawn
housing consecrated ashes
disintegrated lovely bones of Memnon
stands proud as genetic product of Nippon.

Upon first immediate glance
his seventy two plus inches
presents overshadowing, looming,
and hulking mound of flesh
capped with large oblong head,
his likeness surpasses,
supersedes, and summons
idealistic awesomeness of
(Jean Jacques Rousseau) noble savage
beastie boy incarnate,
nevertheless he only poses a menace
to any and all who cross his path.

His physical prowess proved time and again
evident as high school football player then
soon thereafter, he channeled latent might
as martial arts fan
and dabbled in taekwondo,
and Muay Thai boxing
answering the call to ring communications
linkedin to testosterone laden
UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship).

I would not wish to be caught,
in a dark alley with him;
me, who (resembles an aging hippie
and long haired baby boomer)
with accidental affectations somewhat effete
laud a fellow generally antithetical
to my quiet and gentle mien;
no matter yours truly tauts his grandeur

on well poised amazingly graceful feet
exhibits art in motion,
and ability to throw a judicious punch
combined with said averred
robust pillar of strength
being politically savvy
and whip smart to boot
qualities I envy and admire.

Quite challenging,
yet not quite impossible mission
to wax poetic toward an individual
exemplifying the complete antithesis
of mine body, mind and spirit
and synonymous with flattering a bully
for the shear confident bravado
exhibited, which winning qualities
guarantee a success brand
within cutthroat political
webbed wide world effects expand
ever outwar affecting mien kampf

analogous to a monstrous tropical storm
acknowledged as more powerful
(than my measly, and wimpy strength)
that doth move inland,
which earth-shaking event headline
sells papers at the newsstand
years from now techniques
of his stellar machismo masterfully characterized
courtesy elephant gingerly
standing, grandstanding, and balancing on one foot
will serve as object lesson for aspirants
nasty brutish modus operandi
scrutinized, schooled and scanned.
Robert Ippaso Feb 2020
I’m confused
At times bemused
By the turn society’s taking,
Sexuality so complex
Gender needing further context
All my preconceptions breaking.

Are cows good
On this we brood
Carbon footprint the new quandary,
Should we fly
Or cycling try
A simpler world I recall fondly.

Left or Right
The current fight
Politicians all grandstanding,
Little caring
Overbearing
Of our hearts and minds demanding.

To take part
Is quite an art
Every word now needing measure,
Opinions rue
So fast to sue
No surprise the past I treasure.
Kurt Philip Behm May 2024
Chapter 9:  Big Brothers, Big Sisters, Friendship & Mentoring

On the first day of school, every first grader was assigned a ‘big brother’ or ‘big sister’ from the 8th grade.  These were our designated guidance counselors and caretakers during the entire term of the first year.  This was something the 8th graders took seriously and a responsibility that not every 8th grader was given.  If you were lazy or irresponsible, this honor would go to someone else.  The care of these younger children was a serious matter, and you treated the 1st grader in your charge like your younger brother or younger sister at home.

You duties entailed number one, making sure that they had a safe way to get to school.  If both of their parents worked, a rarity, you would try, if it wasn’t too far, to meet them at their house and walk them to school.  Most students lived within walking distance. By today’s standards, the 30-minute walk many of us had would seem too far away.  Back then, the walk to and from school was one of the highlights of our day.

It was on these treks, back and forth, that you oftentimes experienced your greatest adventures.  You would try to find a new, and shorter, way each time and always different from the one you had taken the day before.  In reality, there was only one way home, but we dawdled and zig-zagged, and cut between different houses, so it always seemed like our navigation was different.  Every one of us fancied ourselves as Meriwether Lewis —blazing new trails for others to follow.

When walking home with one of our ‘charges,’ it was straight home by the quickest and safest route. In the morning, for safety, we tried to take the pathway that would have the least car traffic so our younger ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ would be safe and not afraid.

Once at school, we helped them put away their coats and get their desks in order.  We also asked them if they were having any trouble with their ABC’s or numbers. If they were, we would work on those things on our way to and from school.

Once ensuring their safety, our next most important job was to instill in them a knowledge of what would be happening over the next 8 years.  What better example could there be than 8th graders who were completing the journey, and in 9 short months would be graduating and heading off to the various high schools that served our area.

We reveled in the success of these younger charges, as they learned to read and eventually count as high as 100 before their first year would end. Often, they would paint us special pictures, depending on what we liked, and based on the stories we told them.  These became some of our most prized possessions, and over 50 years later, I still have mine prominently displayed.  

What we did, more than anything else with these little people, was share.  We shared our time, our laughter, and our concern for them, and were rewarded with love and admiration in return.  Yes love, the kind of love that needs no reason or explanation, one that is given freely and without asking, and a love once received that was so special that we couldn’t wait to give it back in return.

                                 It was a love we shared

We loved watching these little kids going through the same magical process that we did and hearing Sister Rita Marie tell the same stories, with the same inflection and emotion in her voice, as when she had told them to us so very long ago.  They also got to share, through the power of her instruction, the knowledge of what true value was in life.  She taught each one of them in a special way that was tailored for their own individual needs, emphasizing always that what was given away would come back 100 fold, and how to be a true friend.

We reinforced the same lessons to our young charges at recess and on the way home in the afternoon. We knew they would again hear the same things from their parents over dinner that evening (does anyone remember family dinners), and the chain of connection that we shared would only solidify and get stronger.

                        We Really Were ‘Parents In Absentia’

Like the relationship between parents and their children, the accomplishments of these little ones, and their occasional misdeeds, reflected on us.  We took great pride in their victories and we suffered with them when things didn’t go well.  They struggled, they learned, and they played together, all the while knowing they would never be alone.

               It All Worked Because We Were Willing To Share

This willingness to share didn’t happen by accident or osmosis. It was handed down, and then taught, in a system run by highly principled women who knew its intrinsic value and what it would ultimately mean for all of us.  

Whenever I meet another person who went to parochial school, or in most cases any public grammar school during the 1950’s, there is an instant kinship and connection.  After 15 minutes, we usually end up finishing each other’s sentences and marveling at how identical our upbringings were.  No matter how far removed our childhoods were geographically, it made no difference. The lessons the nuns taught were universal in their message and roadmaps to a better life.

What gets shared among young children today?  The desire for more of what they couldn’t get enough of yesterday — and will still yearn for tomorrow?  In the abject isolation of a destructive video game, or violent TV program, they withdraw further and further inside of themselves, missing much of the beauty that is only brought out by others. In the absence of cell phones, I-pads, and video games, we personally got to know each other, and in many, if not most cases, those friendships we made are still strong today. It takes another human being to bring out the best in you, and vice-versa.

              Not A Machine Or Unfeeling Scion Of Technology

The obesity of today’s younger generation is caused by inactivity and a series of lazy and uninformed choices. It is driven by a search for temporary comfort and gratification at the expense of their health and self-esteem.

I’m sure, looking back 50 years from now, we will have discovered that diseases like Obesity, Diabetes, Autism, ADHD, and Anxiety & Depression, were all at least partially caused by an inactive, poorly nourished, and degenerative lifestyle.  

We couldn’t build a bird house, assemble a scrapbook, or put together a model airplane without the glue or adhesive that held it all together.  We faced many challenges and obstacles on our journey toward 8th grade, but we encouraged each other, respected the rules, learned to laugh at ourselves, admonished the stragglers when needed, and most importantly — did it together.

The Glue We Had Was A Set Of Core Values That Proved Their Worth When Times Got Tough




Chapter 10: TV & The Messages It Held Inside

My generation, the Baby Boomers, was the first to be raised, at least in part, by television. The magical gray box held wonders beyond compare for a 5 year old fixated in its presence. You would marvel at the places it would take you, as it became your special nanny, while your parents were off tending to the chores in the ‘real world.’

Like all mediums of information, The T.V. was neither inherently good nor bad.  That depended on the intention of the programmers behind the camera. As young children, we experienced the final result, and in 1955 that result was almost always good.  The messages the T.V. brought were mainly those of accepted, time tested, family values, and our parents were comfortable and confident letting us watch by ourselves.

Back then, the message always ended with the good guy winning and the cowboy wearing the white hat saving the day.  The one’s wearing the black hats were always the villains, and implicitly we knew this when they first appeared on screen.  The good guy’s stuck together in our T.V. shows, and the bad guys were those who didn’t hold to the accepted social order (values) and wandered off in search of self-interest by breaking the law, creating havoc, and usually getting caught and then punished by shows end.  The message of these early shows reflected the shared values we had as a society and only served to reinforce what we were already being taught in school and at home.

I can remember my mother and father coming into the living room as I was watching re-runs of the ‘Our Gang Comedy’s’ from the 1930’s.  They were among my very favorites, and my parents would sit down with me and watch them too.  They would then relive all over again their childhoods during the Great Depression and tell me over and over how much that series meant to them when times were so tough.  The characters were called ‘The Little Rascals’ and had names like Alfalfa, Spanky, Porky and Buckwheat and always got into some kind of mischief.  They usually got caught, resulting in their acknowledging the errors of their ways, and learned a great lesson in the process. In many ways, they were as much a ‘morality tale’ as any told previously or since and a stark contrast to what the negative on-screen ‘entertainment’ provides for our kids today.

According to film historian Leonard Maltin, “Our Gang put boys, girls, whites, and blacks together in a group as equals.”  To be equal, we had to agree upon and share in what makes us that way.  Back then we had no problem doing that.  

                                             As equals  

‘Our Gang’ was comprised of some upper middleclass kids, but mainly poor and black kids all playing together. In playing and seeking out common goals, they set aside any petty or surface differences in their pursuit of adventure and fun.  They may have come from different economic or social circumstances, but they realized, when playing together, that that’s all that they were. The magic and the adventure of the task at hand superseded any variation in class, color, or social standing. They had much more important things to do than worry about petty differences and spent all of their time playing, planning, and conspiring as a group.

                        They Had More Important Things To Do!

The images on T.V. came to us in black and white, and the messages they carried inside were black and white too.  No confusion or embarrassment in trying to be ‘politically correct’ like today. Their messages were linked both spiritually and ethically to the ones we learned outside when the T.V. was turned off.

Shows like Lasssie, Rin Tin Tin, Gene Autry, The Lone Ranger, Howdy Doody, and then Superman, all came with a message that if the right choices were made, good would triumph over evil.  We felt better after watching these shows, and again our parents would often break away from what they were doing and watch them with us.

                            Another Thing We Shared Together!

With our decoder rings and coonskin caps, we cheered for our heroes on the 11 inch screen.  We knew that they might struggle for a while, but in the end would always win the day. They let us know that the same thing applied in our personal lives as well.  I remember going to see Gene Autry in Northeast Philadelphia when I was 8 years old. Gene Autry, along with Roy Rogers, were the biggest cowboy stars of my young generation. Gene had his horse Champion, and the Son Of Champion, with him at the outdoor demonstration.  

Gene took the time to walk the entire crowd and tried his best to talk to every child who stood outside the corral.  His questions to each kid were always the same … “Are you doing good in school?” and “Are you listening to your mom and dad?’  I left that day knowing that my on-screen hero was real, and the things that he told me, and encouraged me to do on his program, were things he believed in his heart.  I also knew he had served his country bravely during World War 2 when many stars in Hollywood hadn’t.  He represented the best of all the things, and we all wanted to be like him.

Our on-screen heroes also encouraged us to have piggy banks and to save our penny’s, explaining to us the magic of doing the right thing every day (saving) and how quickly it would add up.  They also reinforced that good things take time, and that immediate gratification was the imposter of the short-sighted. We filled our piggy banks by having paper routes and redeeming used soda bottles and didn’t ask our parents for the money, knowing that they hadn’t asked theirs.  

When that bank got so full, that it wouldn’t accept another dime, you  knew you were the wealthiest person in the world, or at least on Rockingham Road where I lived.  Your parents proudly accompanied you to the local bank where you had opened your first passbook savings account with your name on it (Mom and Dads too).  At birthdays, and holidays, you might have some relatives who wanted to ‘invest’ in your future success by making your passbook even heavier with the magic it contained.

Every kid in the 1950’s knew the story of ‘The Tortoise And The Hair,’ and understood that it was by continual effort, not just a grandstanding initial burst out of the starting blocks, that true progress was made.  It was the choice of putting aside the temptations of the present, and contributing to something larger and more important, that they taught us on T.V.  We all knew that the value in saving, and planning for the future, would override any temporal persuasion and allow us to eventually accomplish much bigger things.

                  Again, These Messages We Got From Our T.V.’s

Just think of the symbols and messages that exist on T.V. and in Video Games for kids today.  Violent action figures that continue to **** and maim, basing their success on how much damage they can do.  These violent messages reach children today at a young and impressionable age. Unless parents are conscientious and extremely vigilant, the young child is damaged severely before he or she is even given the chance to understand that the world can, and should, be a different and more uplifting place.

Occasionally, our T.V Shows would deal with tragedy and even death, but it was presented in a spirit of hope and renewal and a belief in the future.  I remember how I felt watching ‘Old Yeller’ when the dog was shot after contracting rabies while defending the boys from a wolf and had to be put down.  I was sad for days until it slowly started to sink in.  The message was that sometimes life isn’t fair, but we can be, and that doing the right thing in certain situations was the hardest thing of all.

                    And That Made It All The More Worth Doing!

Rin Tin Tin, a tan and black German Shepherd, was my personal favorite.  He was the troop mascot in a cavalry unit, and Rinty was always saving some trooper from an Indian attack or rescuing someone who was either lost or being held prisoner in the American West.  Rin Tin Tin embodied the moral message that the army and the settlers shared in common, and he proudly served to enforce these values when called upon by his master.
Rinty was both loyal and obedient, courageous and brave …traits we all tried to emulate in our everyday lives.  

He also knew the difference between right and wrong because that is what he had been taught.  We all loved and wanted to be like him and trained our own dogs to be at least partially as heroic and adventuresome as Rinty was.  As I got older, I always had German Shepherds as my personal dogs.  In real life, they share most of the qualities, and nobility of character, that Rin Tin Tin personified on screen.

In many ways, we love dogs so much because of the purity of their character.  They are totally loyal to their masters, and would in most cases die in the protection of those that they love. They often give up their own interests, in the pursuit of deferring to their masters, and want nothing more than to serve something, or someone, they see as bigger than themselves. They truly are man’s best friend!

                  And T.V. Portrayed Them Exactly That Way

Whether watching ‘Sky King,’ ‘Sgt Preston Of The Yukon,’ or ‘Daniel Boone,’ I never saw any cross-legged kid, sitting in front of the T.V., confused as to what the message was in the show he was watching. We all cheered together, laughed together, and cried together, based on the plot at hand because we all shared in the values within the message that was showing on screen.  The good guys were always good, and the bad guys always bad.  No matter how desperate the situation got in one of those shows, we always knew that good would win out in the end.  It was in this spirit, of sending a positive message of hope, that the T.V. shows during my childhood were at their best.

Imaging what a young person watching a show today, laced with *** and violence, must be thinking.  He or she can’t help but come away from that show diminished and in less control of themself than before. The only value in T.V. today is one shared by the parents.  Many parents today use television and I-pads to keep their kids occupied, and out of their ‘hair,’ while they check their emails and watch even more violent and sexually explicit programming thinking, in error, that they are spiritually immune from its negative effects.

If you have children of your own, and no parental controls on your T.V.’s, … then shame on you.  If you allow your children to watch T.V., play video games, or with I-pads, at their friend’s houses without the same controls, then I echo the sentiment.  Children grow up fast enough as it is without having the very core of their childhood ripped away from them by these violent and destructive electronic pariahs.  In many ways, T.V. — and its electronic counterparts — are the great progenitor of the downward moral spiral that we seem to be on.

My head is neither in the clouds nor do I live in a world of fantasy … in most ways I am a realist.  The realities of the world today I am all too familiar with, but I am unwilling to anoint them with unlimited power over our children in a capitulation that there is nothing we can do to fight back.

When young children, and teenagers, bring guns into our schools, with mass murders and suicides the result of their misguidance, what does this tell us about their state of mind and what they see when they look into the future?  As young children, we had heard the stories about Nagasaki and Hiroshima and the devastating results those two bombs caused.  We also knew they were dropped with a higher purpose, and in the end saved lives.  Invading Japan, which would have been the only other alternative, would have resulted in many more lives being lost on both sides.  We understood their purpose, and we also understood the difference between self-protection and preservation and wanton destruction and violence.

As horrible as it was to think about what those Japanese went through in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we understood why it had to be done.  I don’t think anyone, including the confused and misguided young person with the gun in their hands, understands why someone enters a place of learning and starts indiscriminately shooting at everyone and in all directions.  A person like that can’t share the same value for human life that we all like to believe we share.  A person like that has had their moral barometer and compass shattered inside them. They are running sociopathically amok — devoid of any empathy for others — or sense of right and wrong.

People like this don’t just happen. They are created in an environment of abandonment, moral confusion, and despair. In many ways, the Columbine shootings were done by someone feeling even more helpless than his unfortunate victims did on that sad and tragic day.  

The television of today puts kids in these violent and destructive situations on screen.  If they are left unsupervised, the lines between fantasy and reality can easily become blurred, and over time these negative images pile up inside of them until one day the pressure becomes so great that they snap, hurting not only innocent victims, but themselves.  

Our TV programs in the 1950’s were an extension of our parents, our teachers, and our religious instructors.  They were a positive reinforcement and the best example of what the medium could be.  As has been said many times … “Art is a reflection of the society of its time,” and our time (in the 1950’s) was reflected in the most positive and uplifting light by the things that we watched.

What eventually happened to TV is what happened to our society in general.  By not sharing the same value systems that created those great programs, we’ve allowed our world to become polarized and divided with our heels dug in. In our misguided defense of what is politically correct, we have allowed the perpetrators of wrong to sit equally, and sometimes as overlord, at the table with those who are trying to do the right thing.  

To make matters worse, through misguided legislators and organizations like the ACLU, we pass laws and give legal rights to the creators of this violent and perverted programming.  As the famous comic strip character ‘Pogo’ said in the 1950’s …
    
                   “We Have Met The Enemy — And He Is Us!”
Robert Ippaso Feb 2020
So many words, such boring waffle
Posturing peacocks, whispering snakes,
Actions so twisted doubtful if lawful
A bunch of connivers, dithering flakes.

In the House which they rule
They pointed and frowned
Lectures unending as if back at school,
Comments unwelcomed, arguments drowned.

Then to the Senate the matter was sent
Pelosi's grandstanding the Media in tow,
Swaying opinion her only intent
Her hands animated, her face all aglow.

But Mitch was just waiting,
Lurking, knives drawn,
Biding his time skillfully baiting,
For he had the Queen, they just the Pawn.

Here comes their bleating
Lost sheep wailing foul
They accuse us of cheating
Which makes me just howl.
Boy I like winning
It's such a huge high,
I so can't stop grinning
While watching them cry.

Now the deal's done
This farce put to bed,
I'll continue to stun
As I forge way ahead

They thought they could win
By playing the part
But if acting's a sin
I've mastered that art.

Another four years
Of me and my tribe,
No matter their tears
To me they'll subscribe.
Robert Ippaso Jan 2021
In with a bang out with a whimper
An American story reminiscent of old,
Brashness and vigor, street smart and temper,
Rising to greatness then collapsing stone-cold.

How could this happen in this day and age,
Have we not learned from lessons long taught,
But there lies the moral, we gave him the stage,
His victory gifted, neither stolen nor bought.

The reasons were many, the anger profound,
The swamp and it's dwellers entitled and deaf,
Their smugness alone caused Trump to be crowned,
With neither side listening, as each out of breath.

But what of the Media, greedy and loud,
They built up the story their coffers to fill,
This great institution at one time so proud
Debasing core standards their audience to thrill.

What next may we ask, back to the same?
Politicians grandstanding, jostling for power,
Caring little for action, just personal fame,
Riding the airways, seizing the hour.

Enough of this folly, time to unite,
Reason and truth need blossom anew,
Our democracy young, our future still bright,
Faith in our system we must now renew.
Yenson Oct 2019
Give them minds, don't leave them bereft
aspirations murdered by inherent arrogance
cossetted indulgences in thoughtless frames
the tragedies of their lives celebrated in vacuous pits

You are nothing when resentments are your spurs
because in emptiness only envy and jealousy owns you
ignorance in deprived and depraved guises your domiciles
in such mires you thrive behind the closed doors of your minds

Your worth is the sum total of the negativism of you
confused minds spewing the fears and turmoils of feral legacies
as begging opportunities are snapped by browns and blacks
yous in supreme ailments and doltishness claims status fools
the dumb short changed albinos grandstanding your ***** for *****
Eshwara Prasad Mar 2021
There is no grandstanding in death.
Yenson Oct 2020
say in the vast emptiness
of my masculine repertoire
it befalls me that my significance
is now tittle-tattling  about my neighbour's cooker
worst still even what I cannot see or confirm in essence

I would ask myself
where did it all go wrong
for better I will require of my senses
than old wives or young wives tales in acids
am I so bereft of ideals that the fulfilled male has
or so immature that I never left the kindergarten playground
or aimless diversions I now seek as my kitchen is ***** and span
but my self worth and proven ability is just a sham I rather not address

some minds never find themselves
other minds hide in obscurities fencing deflective flares
or even worse grandstanding in worthless schismatic narratives
because the bellicose ignorant male of the species
now proves his social standing and innate yang
by writing about the state of fittings and  culinary layouts
in other men's homes
welcome to what the new man of our times depicts....
Graff1980 Aug 2021
I'm not flossing,
but I cost men
a certain respect,
got those searching rejects
looking for objects
that might inject
a direct flow
into a system that's
too slow,
so they watch their engines
go too cold.

I'm not a bomb
but I blast holes
in those
violent episodes,
take the illogical
and repurpose it,
making poetry
with logic in it.

I'm not a gun
and I never want to
carry one,
but you'll get shocked
when you're shot
by the thoughts
that blow your mind
and help you carry on
at the same time.

I maybe grandstanding
demanding the handing
of banners back to the past
got citizens bleeding patriotism
cuz that cloth cuts like glass,
those symbols don't last.
After the harshest winds have blasted
flags just flap and go flaccid,
disintegrate brains like hydrochloric acid,
turning people into plastic
action figures that only think
and articulate in a certain way,
do what the corporate dynasties say
as the greedy businessmen repatriate
every cent they ever let us make,
while taking our rights and education away.
Yenson Mar 2020
I don't live my life in the fantasies of psychos

Emotional Intelligence is never a preserve of crazed minds

expectedly sickos and ignoramuses gallivant in malignant fixations

in corrupted toxic malaise beasts heave and puff to tear sanity apart

racists scums vigilante lowlifes. illiterates in blinded furies and envy

unite in contemptible cohorts heralding the chaos of their
depravities

sound mind in honor and integrity sail by in emotional intelligence

differing to sewer rats, cowards and loonies the smallness they are

there see the under-endowed posing and posturing in lameness

read the semi-illiterates versing prose nonsensical and foul

watch faceless cowards grandstanding low-scale heroes

unwashed adequateness calling Channel a stink

the gutter packs revolting in revolt asunder

gutless bullies in hidden cages snarling

frothing bile in insignificant messes

the deluded in usual epic fail

renta-mob the no-marks ball

sorry intelligence is not for all

thank Heaven they know nowt

about aspiration and Emotional Intelligence

Thank God for the mind that surpasses their understanding

— The End —