PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

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Blown Away

On this blustery day of crazy winds in Boston, I find myself contemplating the B.S. that’s blowing a gale from the mouths of our Republican friends, who continue to bellow loudly of stolen elections. Do these friends believe we fell asleep amid all this wild and windy ruckus?

No chance. The howling winds have kept us awake and alert. We’re watching all the fast ones you’re trying to blow past us, and the umpires are watching as well, informing us that all those fastballs are way out of the strike zone.

In my dreams, the gusts that are about to knock down my house’s chimney (what the hell is going out there?!) blow into town and sweep away all the lies and nonsense that the opposition is attempting to build its comeback on, leaving us with nothing but facts.

And beer, of course. My homebrew is way too heavy to be carried away by even the mightiest of winds.

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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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