Category Archives: Space Dust

Space Dust

lee_broom

It occurred to me today after listening to way too many commercials that if one had only toilet water to drink and no glasses to dip into that water but there was a straw in the catchall drawer in the kitchen, that one could get down on their knees, say a prayer for protection, stick the straw between the lips, dip the other end of that straw into the freshly flushed toilet and be totally confident that their safety in drinking that water could be said to have a safety factor of up to 99.9999%.

Being in a contemplative state of mind it occurred to me also that probably 99.9999% (or more) of all heroin addicts first drank milk. I seem to remember that from my college days. I didn’t really learn much there. I didn’t shoot heroin in those days nor did I drink a lot of water……or milk. I just drank a lot.

As you can see I haven’t completely recovered my senses but I’m getting there.

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STAND UP COMEDY: PART TWO

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STAND UP COMEDY PART TWO
Continued from…(6/1/20150)

My son, Bill Broom, whose brief but immensely popular career as a nightclub comic, once told me that his formula for creating standup jokes was one he learned from others of his ilk. His method: make a ridiculous statement; then prove it.”

After Bill told me his story I noticed that my magician friend Shawn Eric does the same thing…

And my Minister friend, Randy…

And my friend Elizabeth?

Yup, she does it too but she doesn’t create her own premise; instead she uses me as her straight man; my words become her ridiculous premise. her interpretations her proof.

(I wonder if  this is funny. It certainly gets my attention. I wonder how big her audience really is.)

Do I do this? (Never mind.)

ELEPHANTS RARELY GO HIPPETY HOP

parade

Elephants rarely go hippety hop

Most certainly, rarely do I

But what is that peeking from yonder cloud?

What is that up in the sky?

 

And over there, a tiger tooth

Surrounded by fifty more

And wrapped around them a great big grin

I can hear that tiger roar

 

And what is that coming around the bend

A gorilla? I think not.

It’s an elephant yes, of that I am sure

(It didn’t go hippety hop.)

 

So that is the end, for now at least

Of a dream in a foreign land

Bring me a drum or a big bassoon

I shall leave with a marching band.

(Won’t you join me? Take my hand.)

“Knock, knock knockin’ on heaven’s door…”

lee_broom

Sheriff: Who are ya?

Printer’s monkey: Good question.

If I had been reading the script I would have read that answer and said to myself, “Bob Dylan”.

Of course, I’ll never know that for sure because  only seconds before, I had clicked the TV on-switch and seen Bobby’s silly self grinning at me there on the screen.

As for the Dylanesque answer to the question “Who are ya?” , I can imagine none better than “Good question.”

We are at any given time a work in progress; perhaps as we leave the planet we will know, too late to answer, as we go…

“Knock, knock knockin’ on heaven’s door…”

THE PERFECTLY TAILORED D.C. SUIT

 

reagan

A D.C. suit at the casual uninformed glance from the casual uninformed observer is black; nothing else of note, just black. But to the elected or not elected D.C. afternoon party goer, even at twenty feet, the fit is everything; one little wrinkle on the shoulder says rack garment. One foot closer one affirms by the lay of the fabric that it is wool. Still closer, the animal that provided it. In a room populated largely by Senators and Diplomats there may not be a single garment in view, cut from cloth spun from the wool of an ordinary sheep.

As you raise an arm to greet an approaching party goer you notice that his perfectly fitted suit is of a subtly striped cloth of perhaps a dozen different hues, covering the entire color wheel. Not one tertiary is missing. But from ten feet the suit is black.

Today at Carl Hayden Veteran’s Hospital there was a mini-mob of what appeared at first to be US government officials wandering about. They were all wearing identical costumes. Each man was wrapped in the same cloth from the same manufacturer cut from the same bolt of synthetic material with a lower thread count than my Levis and surely from the same assembly line. They were being squired about the property by the new Secretary of Veteran’s Affairs Bob McDonald. I wonder who he hired to wear the rental suits.

There were about twenty men and one woman. The female I recognized but couldn’t place and was dressed in her own clothing. All the “senatorial” lapels had the same gold-ish plastic pin with the generic font, U. S. stamped on them.

And I don’t know why.

And I have asked that question about some public event or another for at least seven years.

GOD AND THE PSYCHEDELIC TOAD ENGAGE IN A MEANINGFUL DIALOGUE

kid artist

God: Good morning Toad.

Toad: Who said that?

God: It is I.

Toad: And it is I who just asked “Who are You”.

God: I Am.

Toad: You Am Who, Mr. Magoo?

God: I Am that I Am.

Toad: Oh I get it. Show yourself Popeye.

God: I am that I am.

Toad: Now I remember; I heard this bit in a Bill Cosby standup routine fifty years ago.

God: Righhhht.

Toad: So what’s happenin’ Big Guy in the Sky?

God: You are “happening”. I am “Being”.

Toad: Righhhht.

God: By the way I am out of the psychedelic toad juice that keeps me going.

Toad: Sure thing Big Guy, help your Self. Just pick me up and milk my back.

God: That would be “doing.

Toad: Doing? Now that’s a subject that been buggin’ me for a while now. Just exactly what do you do? From what I hear, You’ve been pretty busy. What do you do anyhow? Like, what’s your job description.

God: I have none.

Toad: Yeah, well that’s not what I hear.

God: And what do you hear Psycho?

Toad: I hear you make people from scratch and that you kill everyone you don’t like.

God: Psycho, I love you, Psycho. Do you know what Love is?

Toad: Hmm. I think so. I hear it’s unconditional; is that right?

God: That’s right, Psycho.

Toad: You don’t really get high do ya?

God: Not really.

Toad: I said some bad things to a friend of mine yesterday. Can you forgive me for that?

God: I don’t “do” stuff, remember?.

Toad: So how can I be forgiven.

God: To forgive is not a verb; it is a state of being.

Toad: Is that supposed to be an answer?

God: Toad, do you believe I Love you?

Toad: I guess so.

God: Love is also not a verb. In fact Forgiveness is the definition of Love. Love is a state of being. As is Forgiveness, as am I. You are a part of me.

Toad: What part Boss, what part am I?

God: You are the verb Psycho. You are my fingers and toes, my kiss on your nose.

Toad: A verb? I’m just a verb? Am I supposed to do something besides hop around the garden and slurp the juice from dragonflies?

God: Accept the Love, Psycho. Accept the Love and pass it on.

Toad: Ribbet.

ELEPHANTS RARELY GO HIPPETY HOP

parade

Elephants rarely go hippety hop

Most certainly, rarely do I

But what is that peeking from yonder cloud?

What is that up in the sky?

 

And over there, a tiger tooth

Surrounded by fifty more

And wrapped around them a great big grin

I can hear that tiger roar

 

And what is that coming around the bend

A gorilla? I think not.

It’s an elephant yes, of that I am sure

(It didn’t go hippety hop.)

 

So that is the end, for now at least

Of a dream in a foreign land

Bring me a drum or a big bassoon

I shall leave with a marching band.

(Won’t you join me? Take my hand.)