If I had a hammer, I wouldn’t hammer in the morning, evening, or all over this land.
Instead, I’d rent that hammer out to laborers who don’t have their own tools.
With the profit, I’d buy some more tools, like saws and wood planes and socket wrench sets, English and metric.
Then, if someone wants to hammer out danger or warning, they can do it with my hammer, as long as they put down a deposit first.
As for hammering out love between my brothers and my sisters, forget it. My whole family’s nuts.
And they never return my tools.
Tag: music
The Magic of Music
I came upon a grassy meadow
Massive human hands
Raising violin bows
Like magicians’ wands
Notes rose from the grass
Like dandelion seeds in the breeze
Rising… Rising…
Fading fading vanishing
I could not see any strings
The hands remained still
I heard music all around
A voice: “Music is the magic of life.”
I sat, watched, listened
I think of it again, and smile
The shadows grew long
I thought about heading back home
It’s still out there, that meadow
Where it is, I do not know
I’ve never come across it again
Closing my eyes, the magic returns
Crazy Little Thing
Freddie Mercury sang about a crazy little thing called love.
The crazy little thing in my life is my midget cousin Edith.
Yes, despite her madness we love her, but we also keep her locked in the basement.
However, every so often, she manages to get out, slipping past my wife as she brings up the laundry or stacking boxes to bust out through a storm window.
This is why we keep the cutlery on high shelves or in drawers with locks.
As for the firearms, well, that gun cabinet is kept locked.
Right?
What? It’s open?
Oh my God!
The Divorce of Figaro
Did you know that Mozart wrote a sequel to The Marriage Of Figaro?
It’s called The Divorce Of Figaro.
A year after the chaotic wedding day, Figaro is lamenting his crazy.
Seductions and singing.
Feasts and fancy.
Subterfuge and plots.
The Count and The Countess are on the rocks, too. The entire mansion is a wreck, every treasure having been smashed against walls in endless fighting.
The four take their fighting to the street, and they bump into each other.
They end up divorcing, The Count marries Figaro, and the curtain comes down.
A good story, but the music sucked.
Ring
Packed crowd at Madison Square Garden.
A boxer climbs through the ropes and steps into the ring.
The crowd roars.
Another boxer climbs in.
More cheering.
The boxers wait.
“Where’s the ref?” asks the first boxer.
“I dunno,” says the other.
They turn to their corners, but their managers and crews don’t have a clue, either.
A microphone is lowered on a cord, but there’s nobody to take it.
So, one of the boxers grabs it and begins to sing.
The other joins in as harmony.
The crowd loves it.
Beats getting the shit beaten out of you, I suppose.
Heartstrings
Sonya was good, her family said, but she wanted to be the absolute best.
“For the best music,” said The Devil, “you must string your violin with heartstrings. They resonate with unmatched beauty.”
So, at her concerts, playing her best, she captured heart after beating heart, luring the men to her home to harvest the strings she needed.
Still, she didn’t sound like the best of all.
The Devil laughed. “They have to be from people you love the most.”
Her mother.
Her father.
Her sister.
Herself.
The Devil laughed at the carnage, rosined Sonya’s bow, and played.
Magnificent!
Carry
Violet is a strange girl.
Sure, she’s plain in all regards, from her mousy brown straight hair down to her shabby tennis shoes, but along the way you can’t miss the fact that she’s always carrying a tuba.
It’s what sets her apart from the rest of the girls.
I asked her once why she carries a tuba everywhere she goes.
“Because if I go somewhere without one,” she replies. “so flew places keep one handy. Present company excepted, of course.”
I am proud of my emergency tuba, stored in a box and labeled “IN CASE OF VIOLET, BREAK GLASS.”
River City
The conman broke into the library at night to do his research on the town.
Henry Hill may have been an awful music teacher, but he was brilliant when it came to the field of meteorology.
Studying the flood records, he calculated the perfect window in which to roll out his music lessons scam.
The final parade would coincide with the biggest storm of the season and massive flooding.
Henry put his notes in his pocket and went to the librarian’s desk.
Nice perfume, he thought. But he was strictly business on his scams…
Oh, such a pretty name… Marian.
Not So Nicely
After killing the bottle, I passed out.
My dream?
I was on the boat to Heaven.
Some dude holding dice and a bottle of whiskey stood up and shouted “Someone, fade me!”
The boat started to rock and I growled “Sit down!”
He stumbled over to me and stared at me with his bloodshot eyes, and the stench from his breath and grimy tattered coat filled me with disgust.
“Make me,” he said.
So, I tried, but we both fell overboard.
Down… Down…
That’s when I woke up, stumbled to the sink, vomited, and swore…
No more musicals before bed.
Majestic
I have never understood the song “America The Beautiful.”
Yes, this country has its beautiful places, but what is so majestic about a purple mountain?
All the mountains I’ve ever seen have green, white, brown, grey, and black on them.
Never purple.
If I saw a purple mountain, I’d think it would look like a gigantic bruise.
Like someone punched our country in the face or something.
How is a gigantic bruise from getting punched in the face majestic?
Oh, so you think I’m overthinking this?
Fine. Let me punch you in the face. See how majestic you look then!