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Sound the Trumpets!

January 22nd, 2017 by Magdalena Tabor

Image result for donald trumpet

 

I’ve had a bad dream. No, wait, a nightmare.  I haven’t mentioned it before because I was hoping it would all go away by itself. Aside from the occasional snide remark, I’ve mostly remained silent on the subject. Much like a turtle inside its shell hiding from the world and wondering if I get to live another year toward what’s supposed to be my final chapter in which I write my own glorious ending as I plan for my retirement. Only someone has swiped my pen and I’m staring at a blank piece of paper. And the only thing that comes to mind now is “The End”.

But the recent protests and marches prove that millions of us are having the same nightmare we can’t wake up from. And that’s even scarier. Yes, I AM AFRAID. Or was. This culmination of like minded people taking to the streets has given me heart. There’s something rising up in my chest that feels a little bit exhilarating. It feels like……HOPE!

Still I can’t help wondering, how did it ever get to this point? Oh sure, I understand we all want change. But what KIND of change are we looking for? Are we so desperate we would choose an inexperienced, narcissistic, bigoted, 2 year old in the guise of a madman who disparages women and mimics those less fortunate? (No, wait, there’s no guise here, he’s not that clever.) I could go on with a list of very unflattering adjectives, all of which would suit and still fall short of a full description of the man chosen to fill the most important job in the world. A man so disgustingly full of himself, he would dare make jokes in front of the sacred CIA Memorial Wall of Agency Heroes. Now I’m not as afraid as I am ANGRY.

This person (I cringe at calling him a man) has no business taking up residence in the White House(!),  the home of our forefathers , the prestigious place of all of the great men and women (wait, we’re getting there) who built this country with integrity and honesty.  This person doesn’t even comprehend the meaning of these words yet he not only dares place his hand upon a bible, but it’s the same bible President Abraham Lincoln used at his inauguration. Was that supposed to tell us they’re on the same level????  Believe me, for him, it wasn’t so much of a swearing in as it was a swearing at. And before I say too much and go on a rant, let me just say this……..I find the mere mention of his name so vile and repugnant,  the only reference I’ll make to it is to say, sort of rhymes with strumpet, (and that’s not a bad analogy), so……….

SOUND THE TRUMPETS!!!

Will someone, anyone please, assume executive power that has half a brain and half a heart?

I’ve no doubt that this show of unity in recent days will make a difference. So take heart. Have HOPE. To quote Miss Emily Dickinson, “Hope is the thing with feathers with that perches in the soul….” I think the thing with feathers is perched on the top of his head, what do you think? Let’s have a tug at it, shall we?

 

 

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Tyler Talks Poe-Etry

February 19th, 2015 by Magdalena Tabor

Hi! It’s me! Tyler! Here to save the day……while perusing the blog site, I was horrified to learn that the entries of late (and I do mean LATE) have been somewhat sporadic and scant intyler content. I mean, if you like poetry, fine but there has to be a little more substance, don’t you agree? Blogs with a little more bite to them. That’s where I step in, to pick up the slack.
I admit I’m not a big fan of poetry. Anyone can do it, even a cat. That’s not to say we’re in any way inferior to the human bean, let me clarify this by saying, it’s quite the opposite. Cats choose not to write poetry for the simple reason, we just don’t want to. Oh, we can do it all right, in fact with the utmost of grace and eloquence, however this restricts us from rising to greater aspirations some of which you may be more likely to associate with the feline of species. But just to make my point that even a cat can do it, here’s one example…”Once upon a midnight mousey, As I pondered feeling lousey, Over many a volume of forgotten gore….” Pretty good, huh? Written by a cat named Poe.
Now, what troubles me is the ever apparent neglect in blog submissions. What have the Beans been doing with their time??? Oh, don’t give me that dried up old excuse…..shoveling snow, scraping ice, shivering in your bootstraps nonsense. I’ve seen you out there. Doesn’t look like that much work to me. You don’t even look cold. In fact you’re sweating. Then you come inside and groan (just to make sure I know you’re tired) and pull off your wet things and have a hot bowl of something nice to eat. And when I ask for some, I get a teeny tiny nibble that’s supposed to satisfy my lion’s appetite worked up from watching you at the window. This is very distressing to say the least.
Then to top it all off with the proverbial red cherry and chocolate sprinkles (make that multi colored) you expect me, a quiet unassuming feline, to contribute his valuable time and (yawn) energy to utilize his creative writing skills in a pinch? Well, all right then! You asked for it! (I think this is what’s called venting.) I’m through with the pair of you! After this, you’re on your own. And don’t give us another one of your hokey five second poems. Let’s have a blog entry with a little meat on the bone, like mine. Now go make yourselves useful and get my dinner. (This has been a public service announcement brought to you by the Tyler Talks Foundation….If it’s worth spilling ink it’s because I knocked it over).

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Ironically, Political Correctness Comes From The Left

July 10th, 2014 by Michael Tabor

I am a huge David Letterman fan and don’t particularly care for Joan Rivers, but I was pleased to hear that Dave was only joking when he tolerantliberalwalked out on Ms. Rivers the other night. Though there is plenty of crassness and incivility in our society, I think the world of comedy would be in a lot of trouble if comedians started censoring other comedians and entertainers.
What I find interesting and ironic, is today’s over – the – top political correctness comes more from the left rather than the right. I thought that the whole World Cup commentary in which the announcer called one of the players a moreno (which means black or brown in Spanish) was silly, over – blown, and not racist at all. However, people are being fined, fired, and sued over such innocuous remarks.
Anthony Cumia from the Opie and Anthony Show tweeted some rather indelicate things (no “n-word, btw”) after being physically attacked by a black fan. Cumia’s employer, Sirius radio, subsequently fired him.
I am a liberal and believe everyone ought to be treated equally including blacks, gays, women, trans – gender, etc but we’re unfortunately witnessing a backlash.
So WhaDaYaThink ? What do you think ? Of course the lines are different when it comes to comedy, but the last 2 examples here were serious in nature.

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Tyler Talks One Year Anniversary

July 4th, 2014 by Magdalena Tabor

Hey! It’s me, Tyler! I am now an official NY State resident, having reached my one year anniversary and I couldn’t be happier. Oh sure, tylerSnowshoe still kicks my butt every now and again but I’ve learned to read his body language, and believe me, there are some choice words in there! The difference is, I no longer care. I just make a fuss so the Beans will yell at him and lavish me with the attention I so deserve. Five minutes later, I sprawl defiantly in front of Alpha male daring him to do it again. Invariably he does, much to my bitter dismay but more often than not, the old man just falls asleep. He’s not as tough as he pretends to be. His whiskers are old and his underwear is older. Oh. I’ve just been informed he isn’t wearing any. I don’t know what to make of that so I’ll just leave it alone.
Clementine still spurns my advances. All I want to do is pat her head and say, “It’s okay, my lovely little snicky snack.” But I guess I just don’t possess the eloquence of de Bergerac and therefore all she can see is my big nose. I just want to sniff her a little and say’ “My, what’s that perfume you’re wearing? Essence of organic catnip?” She just spits at me like I’ve just uttered the most ridiculous thing. What’s a guy to do?
I have grown increasingly fond of the Beans and seek their presence at all times. They smile at me adoringly and say things like, “Isn’t he cute????” That’s a rhetorical question and yet it’s always answered with such enthusiastic conviction. It just melts my heart when Lady Bean comes home from wherever she’s been all day and makes the biggest fuss when she sees me. I get so happy I claw at the rug and she just laughs. I think she’s genuinely glad to see me although she acts the same way with the other kids and then I don’t feel so special anymore. I think she still likes me best and just doesn’t want to hurt the feelings of the others.
Bean Daddy’s birthday is the 4th and I’m throwing him a surprise party. The surprise is to snub him when I see him. I think I’ll throw myself a party instead to celebrate my year long vacation in NY. Here’s the invite:
Come one, come all, to Tyler’s ball and bring me lots of presents. And if you come with nothing at all, you’ll be turned away at the door and never so much as looked at sideways and wish you never were born and shipped to that god awful place called Nacogdoches, Texas!

So…………….whadayathink? Are you as pleased as I am about my one year anniversary? I accept gifts of all kinds. Did I mention to bring me something nice? I especially favor live mice (not the fake kind you buy at the supermarket) and creepy crawly things of which there are a lot more to be found in Texas.

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Sweet Charlotte

June 29th, 2014 by Magdalena Tabor

Paper me in Waverly,sweet charlotte
My heart’s a broken ledge.
Anyone who looks at me
Sees me sitting on the edge.

From the tower I can see
The river at a glance.
Won’t you come and rescue me?
The two of us could dance.

Eighteen ninety four or so,
Set upon this stone,
Gathered from where no one knows,
To build someone a home.

What better than a cup of tea
And stories I would share.
Paper me in Waverly,
Is anybody there?

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A Morning Rankle Through The Massapequa Preserve

June 23rd, 2014 by Magdalena Tabor

As I’ve oftentimes mentioned, I cannot stress enough the healing powers of nature. It seems that whenever I’m out of sorts, I seek some quiet wooded glen for solace and comfort. It never fails to bring me to myself. Ideally, the best places for this are not always within easy access of suburban Long Island, at least not within walking or biking distance and so we utilize what we have. Trouble is, so does the rest of the populace which defeats the whole purpose.
I set out at 9:40 am on a Monday morning but to my utter dismay, it still wasn’t early enough. Already, there was the usual gamut of characters that should have been at work today but, like me, decided otherwise.
The Massapequa Preserve is a stunningly beautiful natural habitat placed smack dab in the middle of a densely populated neighborhood, but you wouldn’t know it once ensconced inside its wild array of canopied overgrowth, streams, ponds, bogs and wetlands, hidden pockets of abundant wildlife with only a narrow 2 lane bike path separating you from it. There are dirt trails that lace through it as well,massapequa preserve but for the most part, it seems people take to the black top.
My morning began with a sweet little duck family at the fishing bridge. Up a little further, 3 pairs of lovely snow white swans were grooming themselves at the creek’s edge, close enough to reach out and touch. One of them executed a very nice backwards leg stretch. (I must remember to ask the name of his Yoga instructor on my way back when he’s not so busy.) Not long into my trip, a duo of loud mouth New Yawkahs broke the silence with aimless chatter in their brisk walk to tight buns. It was apparent that this was their ultimate goal in life, oblivious to all else with specially devised outfits to heighten the effect. Thankfully, they soon dissolved into a bend in the road and left me to examine the inhabitants of the pond; another stark white swan and a red winged blackbird that darted into the bushes. It might have been at the strange appearance of a man jogging with a baby stroller while yelling “Bam, da Bam, Bam! Bam da Bam Bam!” I had to crane my neck to make sure there was actually a baby in the stroller to assess the mental stability of the one producing this most unusual sound. There was. Poor kid.
I spied a small brown bunny hopping alongside the path and watched as he (she?) darted into the brush. At a certain distance I about-faced for my return trip and opted to walk with the bike for a change of pace. (Actually my butt hurt.) Apparently, this was considered odd behavior for some, as I was asked by a kindly fellow if I didn’t need asistance with the bike. I politely refused and thanked him. I don’t know why this rankled me, but is there no where in this suburban conglomerate one can disappear and not have to interact with anyone and everyone? I just want to be invisible sometimes. God bless them, Long Islanders are extremely friendly, but must one always feel obligated to greet each passer by with “hello. hi. good morning. hey” or a smile? Then if you don’t look at them you get the feeling they may be offended, snubbed, or slighted and spoil the rest of their day. All right, already…… “Hi.”
I glimpsed the same little brown bunny coming back, although I can’t be entirely certain it wasn’t a different one this time. It wasn’t wearing a name tag, but then again, neither was the other one. It did, however, possess the same spirited hop. Of the same grouping of swans I was absolutely sure; they made slow progress up the creek without a paddle. (They didn’t have one last time.) Strangely, there were no chipmunks in sight. I’m convinced they all took to the mountains some 200 miles away as there were thousands of them frolicking during our last visit there. I can’t say that I blame them…….Bam, da Bam, Bam!

So……….whadayathink? Where do you go to seek solace and seclusion when you want to get close to nature without rubbing elbows with the human species?

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