Steam & Steel

I was born - Age of steam and steel
When Northerns had - Four pair driving wheels
And they ran -  Sweet Kentucky coal
Shovel hard - Faster you would roll
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Flew left seat -Connie Super G
Yup, PIC – Back in ' 53
With four recips- She’d fly good on three
High and safe -  Over angry seas
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Motorcy-Cle I called Black Bart
Built it up -- Vin and Indian parts
Monster mill - Real hard to kick start
Not for weak - Nor the faint of heart
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And so now - A new century
But I like the - Way things used to be
People read - Real magazines
Rockets fueled - By Hydrazine
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No paddle shifts -Just three on the tree
No cell nor text - Just dial rotary
Took pics on film - That you would buy
No Photoshop - To make them all lie.



REFRAIN

Welcome to anthem of ancient gears
Lots of years, blood, sweat and tears
Cos the faster you go
The more time does slow
Hey, Einstein said so

Dating disasters, flirting fiascoes, hook-up horror stories.

Believe it or not. You can’t make this kind of stuff up.

1. Our first tete a tete, dinner. My treat. She asked me to meet her outside, so we could go in together. Like some kind of grand entrance by Russian royalty, I guess. Well she WAS from Siberia. So, okay... But -- thing was… it was a frigid January evening. I am talking wind chills straight from the Planet Pluto. The dark side, mind you. And she was 80 minutes late…. Frostbite was right on time, though.


2. We had a nice lunch (at least I thought) and some friendly chatty ee-males. I made an innocent joke about our Prez. She wrote back calling me a despicable bigoted racist. At a Press Roast the very next night, the very same man (Mr. Prez) made the very same joke. About himself. No, I did not sue him for plagiarism. No, she did not get a second date.


3. She was coming nearby to get “some ink.” Could we have out first meet-up then. Okay, cool I thought. She is an artist or calligrapher who needs supplies. I like artists. Then I find out the place is a tattoo parlor. And she is getting one. That’s what she meant by ink. Sooo… she will see me -- for the first time -- fresh from a lengthy session of ritualistic butch biker torture -- raw, bleeding and sore. Eiuww. How fetching. But hey I am nice guy. I joke that I will bring pain killers. She says she will call me when she is almost done. She never does. Gee -- wonder why I did not feel disappointed?


4. I wish I had a Ben Franklin for the number of times I have ignorantly and incorrectly been called “odd”. No pejorative implied. Well at least by me. Because “ignorant” merely means lacking knowledge. The female epithet hurlers in these cases were bereft of data about my financial state. In which I could easily smoke cigars rolled from aforesaid currency for years on end. With little untoward effect. In view of the foregoing, the correct term is not “odd”, but of course…eccentric.


5. It was the sad dream of too many homely high schools to be oh-so popular in their class. In the 21st century internet dating version of this, some women have never grown up. They collect phone numbers like some kind of Merit Badge / Bedpost Notch of Popularity. Never meaning to really call the other end in the slightest, of course. Their pathetic looser logic goes like this. If the guy sends me his number he is really interested , and I am popular! Of course I am happy to oblige. They never find out the number I gave was a VOIP throwaway. Linked to a burner cell. Residing in the bottom of a Walmart dumpster. In Tuvalu. On the dark side of Planet Pluto.

A: Destination Unknown by Missing Persons

Q: What new-wave 80s rock hit is NOT likely to be played on a Carnival Cruise?

A: Dracut, Mass

Q :Where do male ducks get their hair done?

This just in ...from the Kentucky Derby

Bad news: Rosie do not win, place or show.

Good news: She got a great mud facial.