PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,

President McVay

I’m aware from the chatta on many of the social media channels I tune into that the American people want a list of my priorities in case I were ever to become President of the United States. Also, how much time would I take off from the job for leisure activities or hobbies?

Would I get into macrame, for example? Or perhaps be a kegler?

Look, it’s really not safe for me to be bowling in my spare time. First, it’s indoors, so not great COVID-wise. Second, think of the security cost. They’d have to shut down the whole facility to protect me from my enemies.

And anyway, can you imagine if there is international crisis brewing and I’m spending time rolling balls down alleys?

Here is where I confess that, nevertheless, I’m inclined to continue brewing beer in my spare time. Because although American needs to get back to work, America needs a beer worse. So, in effect, I’m leading America by example: working hard, and drinking the beer I’ve spent time brewing right there in the White House.

In addition, I plan to create a social media app called “Chatta.” Stay tuned on that one.   

Continue reading
  1104 Hits

In Times Of Uncertainty, There's Still Beer

Were it not for the impossibility of it, or maybe my lack of entrepreneurship, by now I’d have invented a beer machine. I don’t mean a machine that requires you to steep grains and boil wort and add hops at specific times and take gravity readings, but a truly magical machine into which you add water and maybe a few dry ingredients, set it, and forget it. Two weeks later, you’ve got an effervescent concoction on tap that makes friends and family euphoric.

I needn’t tell you, a voter (hopefully) and maybe even a beer drinker (surely), how important both beer and voting are to our democracy. Voting is the ultimate expression of our citizenship rights; beer soothes the burn when the dink the opposing party has inexplicably nominated somehow bests your sensible candidate.

I’ll be honest and say that I’ve been steeling myself against another improbable victory by President Conspiracy Theory by enjoying a beer every now and again. I’m also planning to tap an ale or two post-vote as a celebratory beverage, or maybe to drown my sorrows.

Good ol’ beer. It’s that versatile.

Continue reading
  1227 Hits

That Ol' Normal

Here in Massachusetts, we’re wondering if the current pandemic is the end of the world, or just the beginning. Maybe, once we shake off the cold, we’ll see the world in a totally new and positive light. Or, we’ll come to the sobering realization that this really is the end.

To be honest, this doesn’t feel like it’s rising quite to the apocalyptic level yet. Maybe it’s just a precursor of apocalypses to come.

Like, what, there are several apocalypses? The complete and utter destruction of the world can’t happen “every now and again” now can it. Remember: think about what you’re saying before you blurt it out.

The damnable virus that’s preventing us from gathering in beer establishments and sneezing directly into our hands just prior to extending them forward in gestures of friendship is apparently clouding your mind. And that’s wrecking the plans we all had for a huge apocalyptic end-of-the-world bash, where my homebrew comes spouting from kegs and gets people smashed, such that they forget their stupid apocalypse troubles.

If the world does end, does that mean that, from the ashes, a griffin will rise? Or, instead, will cockroaches, which we all heard in 1970s could survive nuclear annihilation, take over?

Ech. Honestly, I’m just hoping we survive until November and can vote.

Continue reading
  1438 Hits

Where's My Chair?

One of the difficult things that I’m dealing with during the coronavirus pandemic is the impossibility of being close to my fans. People love it when I travel the country and read my blog posts live, while they eat cheese and drink wine. And, yes, smoke pre-rolled marijuana cigarettes.

Then I come on stage and people start to giggle. They laugh and laugh as I try to find my chair. It’s like I’m Charlie Chaplin.

But it’s not a set up: no one left me a chair. What the heck? Where is my fucking chair? Everyone is howling because I can’t find my chair and because they are full of cannabinoids, but I’m genuinely ticked off because I can’t find anyone who is willing to acknowledge that the talent (me) needs a chair to read these highly influential blog posts. Plus, my contract demands that I be given a swivel barstool, a unidirectional microphone, a little high table, and some pumpernickel toast buttered to my exacting standards.

And a glass of local homebrew as well, you ask? Yep.

Someone is playing steamy jazz on a piano while I read a post about how much I’m looking forward to hugging you and the rest of the world when we all wake from this nightmare.

Continue reading
  1360 Hits

 

 

Daily Haiku

 

Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  

 

College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.

 

Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not

 

I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car

 

My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not

 

It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means

 

Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes

 

Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees

 

Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning

 

Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

When I die Pats midwinter vacations Ticketmaster Sugarbush College Cats Hot Air Balloon Knots punk music Spice Girls NPR New England Car Dealerships the sea Zoom Fiction Religion town square Allergies Teeth acerbic high school principal My sisters BB King Barber Shops TV weather Existential Crisis vacation The future Joan Jett Peter Paul and Mary Boston Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde Folk Music Them Kids Skating Theater Bands I've seen Good Reads the future First World Problems afterlife Smoke Meat Things I've done Plastic Little League Communication Channels US Senate Hand Planes Short Fiction Peacekeeping Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Mustard Diseases technology Guns and Ammo Rabbit Hole Earth Texting Brewing Beer Head injuries Yeast Bunker Soviet Union Vaccines Accounting Cornhole star Masks Martinis Eating and Drinking Halloween coronavirus Marketing Gimmicks Coyotes COVID People I know Rock Bands Chowder Vaughn My Parents Climate Change Biden Radiohead The Past Mass General Hospital Hache Verde Weather baseball Higher Education Me China Butterfingers Soup Golf cornhole Wind Big Shoes soapbox rantings The Old Days Emergencies Soul Coughing Ice Dancing Mom and Dad curling shoes Elvis Presley gathering throngs Liz Phair My Estate Eclipse Bob Dylan My grandparents Scotch and Sirloin nukes plan mid-winter vacations Art The Future NFL England Trump Ukraine Belgian Ales Bicycles Tom Waits Real Estate Skiing Christmas Brain Surgery 1980s Godfather Syracuse Bodysurfing winter COVID-19 Music Places I've been to high winds Soccer Imaginings Bikes Hurricanes Roommates I've Had Bands I haven't seen Grass Skiing Audio Ketchup Drumming Canadiana Snow Guns Motorists Putin War and Peace Work seasons Stairs Europe Sports Stories I should write Bill Monroe Email Hawaii tambourrine Audubon Bar Reveillon Quebect Politics As Usual Mike Doughty Spoon the band Advertising Candy Football Bands I've Seen Food Red Sox Sports Psychology Canada Dad advice Cars Royal Stuff