PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

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Local Boy Makes Good

Back in the day in Upstate New York, I could occasionally be found hanging out with some of the great upstate bowlers of that era. We'd hurl giant balls at pins set up at the end of waxed alleys, hoping to earn a strike and leverage our keggling prowess to catch the attention of one of the young lasses watching us. I was always the favorite of gals back then, what with my scintillating keggling traits: short of stature; flatfooted; significant bulk in the midsection. No doubt my opponents found my substantial hindquarters unnerving.

Plus I drank a little beer then. Bowling and beer go together like peanut butter and jelly.

This is one of the several things that connect me to a certain musical god named Bob Dylan. Bob bowled upstate just like I did. Not in New York, but in Minnesota. His team – the gutter boys – dominated the Minnesota teenage rec league. I recently learned this from visiting Hibbing, MN, which is Bob's (If I may) hometown. This is where Bob lived from just after kindergarten until he was through high school, with his dad Abe, his mom Eva, and his brother Thaddeus. And where he keggled.

Bob Bowled Here

Full disclosure, I don't actually know his mother's or brother's names. But I just "published" my guesses on the internet, and now some people are going to assert to others or in peer-reviewed journals that Bob's brother was named Thaddeus. "And his mom Eva used the same toaster as the famous blogger Patrick McVay!"

With 7 billion people in the world (wait – is it 9 billion yet?), odds are that eventually someone will utter those words. 

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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

 

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