decoration   Leave a comment

http://www.billnakis.wordpress.com/2013/05/27/decoration-day/

Posted May 27, 2013 by sehnen in Uncategorized

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memorial   Leave a comment

http://www.kaikenlainen.wordpress.com/2013/05/27/trying-for-in-memoriam/

Posted May 27, 2013 by sehnen in Uncategorized

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tippi gritt ~~~~~~   Leave a comment

Page Six…..    based on a true turners story

 

Tippi is sitting around her livingroom, watching a movie with her children and their babysitter, who lives next door. The babysitter is fourteen, and an avid reader. Somehow or other the conversation rolls around to the concept of reading to little children. Maybe the babysitter, Lysa, had read the kids a story and was telling Tippi all about it.

Lysa:   Do you read to the kids, Tippi?

Tip:  God no, that’s what kindergarten’s for.

Lysa:  But only one of  ’em is even in kindergarten. What about the others?

Tip:  They’ll get read to when they go. I”ve got too much to do to sit around reading stories. I don’t like books anyway.

Lysa:   What about their Dad?

Tip:  No, he don’t read books either, and he don’t read to the kids.

Lysa:  Jeeze, I never heard of parents who didn’t read to their kids. You’re the first ones.

Tip (getting touchy):   What’s the big deal about books anyway? Does reading books make money? Money’s the thing that pays the bills. They’ll learn to read when they go to school. Then they can read books themselves, if they want to. But I don’t know why they’d want to waste their time.

Lysa:  But reading is fun. And you learn all kinds of things. It really does expand your mind.

Tip:  Well I never saw nuthing fun about bein’ forced to read. And I don’t give a crap if anybody’s mind ever gets expanded. Make money, that’s what people need to do.

Lysa  (also getting touchy):  I don’t know why you’d wanna be so ignorant, and let your kids be ignorant.

Tip:  Oh, so now you’re callin’ my whole family ignorant?

Lysa:  Yes I am. And I don’t know why any parent would sit around and refuse to read their kids. You just must be proud of not going near books. You must think it makes you special somehow, or it makes you some kind of a rebel.

Tip  (yelling now):  And you’re some kind of a snot, like your mother!  Books and that stupid Beethoven stuff and music in languages nobody can understand. All I ever hear is how you can’t stand your mother, but you’re a snot just like her!

Lysa  (also yelling):  Well I’d rather be a snot than be ignorant!

Tip:  And I’d rather be bringin’ in good money than sittin’ around on disability listenin’ to Beethoven and readin’ stupid books! Don’t come back here anymore! I’ll get another babysitter.

Lysa:  Fine, fine, I won’t come back. Hope the new babysitter reads to your poor little kids. And you’re a lousy cook! You’re so proud of the fact that you get up in the morning and make pudding and pancakes and cupcakes. What a great MOM you are! Well if you really wanna be the special mommy who always makes homemade treats for her kids, take some goddamned cooking lessons! Your panckes are like sawdust and you’re pudding is like rubber and your cupcakes are queer. Nothin’ you make has any taste! Make your kids somethin’  good and tasty for a change!

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Epilogue

A little squabble between neighbors. Happens all the time in the world. In the years to come, Tippi tossed her husband, stopped bleaching her hair, started riding a motorcycle and dressing in this sort of I’m-so-natural look. And so far as this writer has been told, she has never, since the day of this little argument, gone near a book.

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read Poison and snowflake trees

website  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~   Share  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Posted May 16, 2011 by sehnen in satire, turners falls

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ginger rubberboobs   2 comments

Page Five…..       based on several true turners tales

 

                                                                                     Ginger’s 45th Bash

 

Hey all you party animals out there, it’s John Bong comin’ at ya at PartyRadio 98.98. It’s Sunday, and we’re doin’ Party of the Month. We’re in Turners Falls today, way out on Millers Falls Road, doin’ the 45th birthday bash of Ginger Rubberboobs. Ya, let’s hear it for Ginger, turnin’ 45 and lovin’ it! We’ll be talkin’ to Ginger in a bit, but first we’re gonna let ya listen to the tunes Ginger’s blastin’ in her backyard, and I mean BLASTIN’. She’s got two cars in the grass, both playin’ the same CD, and I’ll bet ya they can hear this way down at the bar on Second Street. It’s LOUD, people, and I’m not kiddin’. Gonna talk to a couple of Ginger’s friends right now.

John (yelling over the noise):   Hey, I’m John.
Glitzy: Ya I KNOW. The guy from the radio.
John: Right. So how ya likin’ Ginger’s bash?
Glitzy: Fuckin’ great, man. The booze just keeps flowin’. Course we’re all high too. (Glitzy burps) Sorry, man.
John: So this is Ginger’s house, huh?
Glizty: Nah. She tells people it is, but she’s just rentin’. She’s got most of the house, but there’s this little shit that’s got this section right here in the corner. See those windows? Oh look, there she is, that little short bitch.
John: Don’t like her?
Glitzy: NOBODY likes her, man, she’s fucking nuts. Listens to some kind o’ snotty music, reads all kinds o’  books, won’t talk to anybody. Ginger wants to piss her off enough that she gets the hell outa here.
John: How do you spose she feels about all this noise. I mean, it’s really loud.
Glitzy: Tough shit. She don’t like it, she can move.

 

(a staggering, glassy-eyed man walks up to them)

Dick: Hey, Glitz, the next time the bitch brings her damn dogs outside we’re gonna grab all this crap o’ hers and get it into the cars. Ginger wants all that shit gone.
John, interrupting: What do ya mean, guy? You gonna take this lady’s flower pots and her rake and stuff?
Dick: Who wants to know?
Glitzy: Dickie, you’re trashed. You oughta know who this is. John Bong, from the party station. Ginger hired ’em to cover the party.
Dick: Oh yeah. Yup, we’re gettin’ rid o’ this crap next to these stairs. Ginger don’t like it.
John: Well, where’s Ginger’s stairs?  (Dick points)….  Well, geeze man, Ginger’s got a lot o’ stuff around HER stairs too.
Dick: Don’t matter. Ginger don’t like this bitch, and she don’t like her stuff, and she wants her and her animals and her stuff the hell outa here. Gotta give her some motivation to get gone.
John: Ya know, guys, I’m feelin’ a little iffy about this. This lady pays rent too, right, and I think there might be laws or somethin’ that you all can’t go takin’ her stuff and makin’ all this racket. She’s got some kinda rights, ya know.
Dick: No she don’t. Ginger’s connected, know what I mean, Johnny boy? Relatives in big shiny black cars from Connecticut?
John (nervous): What are you sayin’?
Dick: I’m sayin’ that Ginger and her FAMILY make the rules, bud. And Ginger’s rules is that this bitch ain’t GOT no rights.
John: Is that a fact?… Hey, great talkin’ to you two. I gotta get back to my crew for a couple minutes. See ya a little later.

 

(John returns to his crew, gathers them around, whispers: Pack it up, guys, we’re gettin’ outa here. Party time is one thing, but there’s fucking nasty shit goin’ on here, and we’re leavin’. We’ll give ’em a bloody refund, but we’re not stayin’. There’s some nasty fuckin’ COMPANY types here, and this Ginger chick is one of ’em. One of John’s crew gives a long whistle, and they all start packing up. Ginger comes wobbling over, sloshing wine out of her glass.)

Ginger: Hey fellas, the party ain’t over? What’s goin’ on?
John: I’m so sorry, Ginger. We’ll give you a full refund. We’ve just had a major equipment failure and we gotta go back.
Ginger (peeved): I don’t want any damned refund, I want my party on the radio. Don’t you have any backup equipment?
John: No, no. Van’s too small to carry extra.
Ginger (louder): I paid for my goddanmned party to be on radio, and that’s where I want it. You go find yourself some other equipment and get yourselves back here. This bash is goin’ on for hours and we’ll still be here.
John (big phoney smile): Sorry, Ginger, no can do. Got a different party to cover in two hours. It’s a damned shame, I know, but you’ll get a full refund if I have to take it outa my own bank. (John and his crew get into the van, start to back up.)

 

Ginger (pounding on the van’s fender, screaming, face beet-red): You little creeps, I’ll sue the damned station for breech of contract! Hell, that’s too fuckin’ slow! So what if I just have some colleagues of mine go to the station with a few cans of gasoline, huh? (she continues to scream her various plans and threats as the van drives away)

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read …  Poison and snowflake trees

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

website  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~   Share  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

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(doll at www.signals.com)

all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2010, 2011 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.

 

 

 

Posted February 7, 2011 by sehnen in photos, rant, satire, turners falls

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Frog bog   Leave a comment

Page Four 

                                          Frog Bog:  A Meditation

                                by Jill Yamaha-Kawasaki of Greenfield

 

Good afternoon, everyone. I’m delighted to see all of you. Shall we get started? There are mats for those who want them, and beanbag chairs for those who prefer to sit. Those of you who like to sit in full lotus or do the full headstand during meditation can start your position now. I don’t recommend handstand meditating myself, but if that’s what works for you, then stand away.

Jill entones to her meditators in a soft, soothing voice:

              Take three slow, deep, breaths… Mindful of the breath…  Relax your legs…

              deep breaths…  Relax your arms…  deep breaths…  Relax your torso.

Now, I want you to imagine that you are in a quiet woods on a warm day, and you’re standing beside a bog you’ve found in your path. The water of the bog is absolutely still. Around and beneath the water is thick, black mud. The blackest mud you’ve ever seen. A fallen tree lying in the bog has several bullfrogs sitting on it, taking the sun. The surface of the water is almost completely covered with bright green algae.

                Deep breaths…  mindful of the breath

The frogs on the fallen tree are utterly peaceful. Their throats move up and down, but otherwise they remain still. Now and then a tongue darts out to catch an insect, and then the frogs return to stillness. The water is still. Its surface ripples only at the touch of a pair of mating dragonflies. The algae is bright and still. The sun is overhead, warm and comforting. It makes dapplings of shadows as it shines down through the leaves. You are completely relaxed. Every part of your body and mind is completely relaxed.

Breathing deeply, imagine that you sit down on the leaves and pine needles, and begin to remove your clothes. Slowly, peacefully remove your clothing until you are naked in the warm summer woods. Slowly stand…  mindful of the breath… and walk to the bog. Step into the bog. Feel the cool, deep, black mud wrap around your feet and toes. Feel the slighlty greasy stagnant water on your ankles. Hear the little splashes as the frogs leave the fallen tree.

Walk slowly to the center of the bog and sit down. Watch the algae swirl into new positions around you. Feel the mud on your buttocks and legs. Sway your arms gently and peacefully in the stagnant water, in the bright green algae. Small black flies approach you and may bite, but you are completely at peace. You feel nothing but kind, nurturing thoughts for the water, the mud, the algae, the frogs and the flies. As the black mud is enriched by the water, so you are enriched by the black mud. As the water feeds the algae, so it feeds your skin. As the frogs and flies are one with this bog, so you are one with it. Cup your hands and pour the stagnant water over your head. Feel it slide over your head, and neck, and shoulders. The nutrients in the greasy water feed you, as you are suffused by a bright, white, healing light. The tiny green algae adhere to your skin and feed you. The flies come to you again. The mud leeches nutrients into the skin of your buttocks.

Mindful of the breath, slowly rise. Stand in the sunlit bog. Feel the sun’s heat begin to dry you. Slowly step out of the bog, return to your clothing, and lie on the forest floor to dry. Lie there and breathe deeply, slowly, suffused with the healing light.

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After a long, silent pause, Jill says:  Thank you all for coming. Take your time coming out of your meditative state. Refreshments downstairs in twenty minutes.

                                                                   

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                                                                       website  ~~~~~   Share  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                                      (yoga frogs at www.whatonearthcatalog.com)

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Posted September 2, 2010 by sehnen in photos, rant, satire

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Mother as anti-christ   2 comments

Page Three

Welcome to tonight’s edition of Collage, a broadcast of Turners Fault local cable access station. I’m Aimee Keneally, your host, and tonight’s guest is Anna Nolo, local author of the highly controversial book, Mothers Who Hate Their Children.

Well, welcome to collage, Anna.

Thank you, Aimee. I’m pleased to be here.

You live in Colrain, Anna, and since your book began receiving national reviews, you’ve been making the rounds of the local cable stations all across Western Mass. And many appearances on national talk shows, as well. You’re one busy author. Aren’t you exhausted?

Well, I do have to take a couple of days off from time to time. The pace has been frantic for the last six months. But I feel I’m duty-bound to stand by what I’ve written, and to answer critics whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Didn’t you expect this, though, when you published a book that states that there are certain children who are simply repugnant to certain mothers, and that if these mothers despise their children, that’s perfectly natural?

I didn’t expect all this hoopla, especially at the national level. What I expected was that very few people would read my book.

You’ve stated very plainly in your book that you, in fact, are one of these mothers, and that you loathe your only child, a son.

That’s right. The very thought of seeing him gives me severe anxiety symptoms.

As a mother, Anna, I have to say that I find this kind of feeling of a mother for her child extremely off-putting. What about unconditional love?

I happen to think that the notion of unconditional love in all parent-child relationships is a ridiculous one. If one’s child is a person who continually treats one like a second-class citizen, like some sort of breathing robot who is expected to do and say and be whatever the child demands, then how long can love survive in a scenario like that?

But no matter how difficult any certain child may be to any certain parent, there is still that bond of blood, flesh of your own flesh, a part of you. A mother especially should feel that permanent bond, that unconditional love, because we carry the children inside us.

Oh please, Aimee, really. Are you saying that just because females have wombs and gestate human young, that whatever comes out of that womb must be forever loved and cherished, even if that baby is Ted Bundy?

Yes, I think that’s exactly what I’m saying. A mother may despise a child’s behavior, or a child’s choices in life, but still always love the child, the person.

If I met my son and got to know him Aimee, and he wasn’t my son, he was just some man I’d got to know who treated me like dog mess on his shoe, I would despise him. He is, in my opinion and in the way he has always chosen to treat me, a despicable person. And as I’ve said, if he weren’t related to me and I got to know him in another context altogether, I would find him repugnant. There is no logical or even emotional reason why I shouldn’t therefore loathe him, and the fact that he is “flesh of my flesh,” as you say,  becomes, in light of repeated and prolonged cruelty, irrelevant.

I just can’t agree with you, Anna; I can’t go to that place with you. And I think I’m right in saying that most mothers the world over wouldn’t be able to. You have interviews in your book with other mothers who hate their children, as you do, but I think even you would admit that you people are very much in the mother minority.

“We people,” as you rather snidely refer to us, Aimee, are indeed in the minority, but we are not the Anti-Christ. We are personalities who have children with personalities that are at great variance with our own, and which have also proven over years of time to be domineering and abusive.

Our time is up for tonight, folks. Once again, our guest has been Anna Nolo, author of Mothers Who Hate Their Children. Thank you again, Anna, and I see that your bodyguards are waiting to escort you out of the studio. We’ll see you again next week, on Collage.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                          website  ~~~~  Share  ~~~~~~~

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Posted July 21, 2010 by sehnen in rant, satire

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the county crier   2 comments

Page Two….    based on certain realities of franklin county

                                      

                                Franklin County Community Calendar

                              Family Events for July and August 2010

 

Sat 10 July — The town of Heath will encore it’s Recycled Clothing Fest on the Heath fairgrounds, from 9:00 am to 9:00 pm. Make your recycled ensemble out of anything at all: no holds are barred. Trash barrels, newspapaper, cut-down garments, papier maché from newspaper — anything! Prizes will be awarded, games for the kids, food booths, a campfire for hot dogs and marshmallows. A grand prize of $1000 will be awarded to the guest who can construct a garment from the generous pile of sheep dung, donated by the Ewe and Me farm in Hawley. Don’t miss this!

Sun 11 July  at St. Kaspar’s club in Turners Falls, members and their friends are invited to the annual Hot Dog Stuff (10:00 am to 2:00 pm). How many hot dogs with fixin’s and rolls can YOU chow down in the space of 45 minutes. As most folks know, Punkin Barsky (weighing in at 375 pounds) has won the contest three years running, inhaling from 30-40 dogs in the allowed time.

 

                             Mr. Barsky’s cardiologist has obtained a court order compelling
                             us to include this disclaimer: Doctor Popov notes that excessive
                             ingestion of food in a short space of time is deleterious to the
                             digestion, and that the resulting fat and cholesterol increase
                             is extremely likely to cause heart infarction and/or  
                             stroke in the long term.
 
 
                            Come on over and strap on the feedbag!
 
 
 
Sat 17 July  Rain or shine, the Youth Boosters Association will present Screamin Meemies, a rock concert for young people at the Greenfield Fairgrounds, from 8:00 in the morning until musicians are all tuckered out. All youth bands are welcome to participate, and will perform in order determined by a lottery system. No proficiency with guitar, drums or voice is required. Bring your own booze, food and chairs. Porta potties will be available. Giving our young folks a chance to shine.  
 
 
 
Sat 24 July  Champagne and canapés on the Bridge of Flowers in Shelburne Falls from 6:00 to 10:00 pm. Fruit juice spritzers available for the children. Catering will be donated by the town’s own five-star bistro, Proudly Pretentious. All proceeds will benefit Shelburne Falls Citizens Against Ugly Yards. Rain Date: Sat 31 July. Donation: $35 adult      $10 child under two and a half
 
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                                          ~~~~~~~~  website ~~~~~~~~
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Posted July 7, 2010 by sehnen in rant, satire, turners falls

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