Category: Blind John Ellsworth

Weather

I am trying to understand weather forecasts.
It is difficult, because there are many sources.
Each of them has a slightly different opinion.
Forecasts are really just opinions.

Also, TV weather is different from others.
TV weather is based on viewing area.
TV signals go a lot farther than ZIP codes,
Or even county lines.

So, when the TV weather guy breaks in,
Just as the killer will be unmasked,
Or the million dollar winner is revealed,
Just as the season is building to a climax…

It may be because you are under immediate threat.
It may also be that three farmers and some goats
Are about to get wet in Southern Oklahoma.

Always check the maps,
I suppose,
Is the lesson here.

Douglas Adams once wrote “Don’t Panic.”
I’m pretty sure he was watching TV at the time.
He was probably in London,
And it was storming in Southampton.

It’s 80 miles from London to Southampton,
Which is 128 kilometers in metric.
This would have been much funnier
If it had been 42 in either.

So it goes.

Here is the easy way to check the weather,
Send the dogs out in the yard.

If they come in wet,
(or don’t go out at all)
It’s raining.

If they come in cold and white,
It’s snowing.

If they go out the back,
And come in through the front door,
(Or get stuck on the roof somehow)
You may have a slight tornado.

Now back to our regular programming,
Already in progress.

STROG

Time for us to cross
From New World into Old,
Where waters flow both ways,
And weather is warm yet cold.

Leaving the Atlantic,
Sailing into the Med,
The cruise is almost finished.
At least we’ve been well-fed.

It’s been an Epic journey,
From Florida to Spain.
Time to find our land legs,
There are no hours left to gain.

No, hours to lose.
We’re going Eastbound.
I need a drink.

Diaspora

Thousands of raw acres
of prime South Texas land.
Mesquite, minimal water,
Fossils, fences and sand.

It’s a place to raise cattle,
With horsepower and sweat.
You can become wealthy,
It’s just not how to bet.

From the thousands of acres
Generations sliced off their share.
One ranch became ranches,
But nobody seemed to care.

The pastures were a man’s world,
There were no girls allowed.
There were many disappointments,
Some best not said out loud.

When I first visited the ranch,
It stretched as far as I could see.
Someone said, “That’s nothin’, son”.
“This used to reach to Uvalde.”

One by one, they moved to town,
It’s where they all belonged.
This could have been the King Ranch,
If they could have got along.

I-635 Blues

Slide on over, baby.
Slide on over slow.
We’re about to miss our exit.
I don’t know where to go.

Move on over, baby.
Move on over fast.
There’s a tanker truck a comin’
I’m fixin’ to get passed.

Drive on over, baby.
Drive on to this song.
I’ve never seen such traffic.
It’s rush hour all day long.

Roll on over, baby.
You know my heart’s on fire.
There’s a pothole in the roadway,
And I’m about to lose a tire.

Glide on over, baby.
Glide on ’til you see.
There’s a thousand cars around here,
They’re all aiming straight at me.

Speed on over, baby.
Speed up as you drive.
I saw a sign back over,
That says go sixty-five.

Look on over, baby.
Look across your dash.
There’s a bunch of angry people.
They must have had a crash.

Slide on over, baby.
Slide on to arrive.
By the time they finish building,
I’ll be too old to drive.

Monday

How was your weekend?
Too short.
Ready for the meeting?
Ugh. I need coffee first.
Ready for the executive visit?
Is that this week? Nooooo!

How is the report coming?
I have to get off the phone, first.
You know it’s top priority.
Along with sixteen other items.
Just try to get it done today.
Along with sixteen other items.

Ready for lunch?
I’m ready for a martini.
Can we go early? I have a meeting.
Will New York ever learn we’re not all on their time zone?
Of course not. They’re idiots.
Don’t say that too loud.

I may call it a day a bit early.
Me, too. I have to pick up the kids.
I have to pick up the laundry.
Yours is lighter! Ha ha ha!
Wow, save some jokes for Tuesday.
You never had a sense of humor.

See you tomorrow.
Not if I see you first.
Stop it! I’m not in the mood.
I hope you’re less cranky tomorrow.
Don’t forget the executive visit.
 Nooooo!

Birthday Party

A birthday party is for the young,
When you discuss hopes and dreams.
As you get older, the topics change,
To aches and pains and schemes.

Somewhere about that special time,
A person gets his first real job,
Much of the magic disappears.
As work makes your head throb.

“What are you going to be when you grow up?”
Is a happy question, full of hope.
“Is this what you’re doing the rest of your life?”
Just doesn’t have the same scope.

Also, the toys get much more expensive,
So, the gifts just aren’t as nice.
Eventually, you don’t get toys at all.
You get petty cash or just advice.

A youngster gets his first bike,
And the world becomes his yard.
An old fart gets a generous check,
And thinks, “Pay off Visa or MasterCard?”

Eventually, you discuss deaths.
Remembering the deceased is so much fun.
When the only party guests are family,
You begin to think you’re almost done.

A birthday party for an old fart
Is just a dinner party with cake.
The cake may be sugar or gluten-free,
But, at least you get some cake.