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A Meal For Sailors Home From The Sea & Staying Together During A COVID Pandemic Lock Down

It is ever-practical Linda who knows a thing or fifty-two about what sailors who have been long on the sea want to eat and drink when first ashore, who suggests a menu, and is more than willing to prepare it all herself, but is convinced by Bridget that, in this instance, too many cooks will not spoil the broth.

“So what’s first?” asks Bridget.

“Always beer,” says Linda. “And a small bowl of nuts. And since this is so special, make them cashews.”

“That’s like a tease,” says Amanda.

“Yes.”

“And what’s next?” asks Alison Alexandra.

“Potato canoes, with lots of bacon in the mix,” says Linda. “And cook the bacon at the time, so he can smell it.”

“Crafty,” says Bridget.

“Tricks of the trade,” says Linda.

“What’s up next?” asks Amanda.

“As fresh a salad as you can make,” says Linda. “If there are cucumbers and mushrooms, so much the better, because those don’t keep well on a ship.” Linda winks. “And throw in some dried cranberries.”

“You’ve entertained sailors home from the sea,” says Amanda.

“I have,” agrees Linda. “My father and my brother. All this I have learned at my mother’s knee.”

“Home cookin’.” says Alison Alexandra. “What’s the main course?”

“Steak – always,” says Linda. “Sirloin tip with the cap on – or better.” She speaks sternly. “And don’t overcook it – even though they say that’s what they want. They don’t. They want the taste, and will appreciate it.”

“I hope we’re all getting this,” says Amanda.

“And fried onions,” says Linda. “On the side.”

“For the smell,” says Bridget.

“Always a winner,” says Linda.

“Any other side dish?” asks Alison Alexandra.

“Fried rice,” says Linda. With BBQ pork and onions in it.”

“But we already have potato,” says Amanda.

“They can’t get too much starch,” says Linda. “And they get to choose as much as they want out of the bowl.”

“Large bowl,” says Bridget.

“You bet’cha,” says Linda.

“Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“What about dessert?” asks Alison Alexandra.

“We offer apple pie with ice cream, and rice pudding with a velvety skin on top.”

“That’s quite a choice,” says Bridget.

“Oh, those sailor boys will choose some of each.”

“Is that it?” asks Amanda.

“No.” Linda smiles. The end is a pot of bitter Chinese tea, a plate of thin, crisp, mildly sweet cookies, and a bottle of amber rum.”

“I’m stuffed,” says Bridget.

“Welcome home,” says Linda.

Alison Alexandra Has Novel Expectations That Don’t Have A Ghost Of A Chance In The Pandemic

“I’d like Bridget to meet you,” says Alison Alexandra.

“No.” R/Jane-the-Ghost shakes her head. “That can’t happen.”

“She’s my cousin,” says Alison Alexandra. “Blood relation, and straight as a die.”

“No – that’s not the way it works.” R/Jane-the-Ghost smiles. “Even though I like your little pun. Trust me.”

“She’s been to the Mansion.”

“Not my department,” says R/Jane-the-Ghost. “As you know – I have not.”

“I’ve noticed that,” says Alison Alexandra.

“Different stages of departure,” says R/Jane-the-Ghost. “As for me – I am well and truly dead.”

“Well then.” Alison Alexandra actually tries to see her companion. “Do you have any advice?”

“About what?”

“How to deal with this Pandemic?”

“You’ve got booze stacked away?”

“Yes. And more coming.”

“Then that pretty well covers it,” says R/Jane-the-Ghost. “Creature comforts for the creature. Your spirit will take care of itself.”

“Body and soul,” suggests Alison Alexandra.

“When threatened, your body will be more aware of your soul.” R/Jane-the-Ghost smiles. “The booze will make it easier for you to say ‘hello’.”

“Cousin Bridget would like to know that.”

Sailors With Heads Of Stone And Bloodshot Eyes Leave Port

Just as these sailors,


On A Friday night,


Were overjoyed when they


Entered the port,

Sailing past my Lighthouse


With smiles and cheers,


For a weekend where they


Could


– And would –


Let loose


In all those ways


That sailors do.


Now they return to the sea

,
With full days of


Hard and harsh work


To test their mettle.


No smiles now.


They barely look my way.


Nary a cheer,


Nary a wave,


And I,


The lighthouse keeper


Of the Lighthouse


On Partridge Island,


Bow solemnly


At their passage.


I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

The World’s Worst Bar

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The World’s Worst Bar,
Absolutely
The worst,
In the world.
 
Indeed,
The whole world.
 
Indeed,
In all of
Christendom.
Which
Is more than the world,
If you are a believer
In The Christ,
And
Accept
He goes
Beyond the world.
 
The world’s worst bar
Smells of
Formaldehyde,
(and those are the pricey drinks).
 
And
You don’t really want
To know
What those
Snacks are
In those
Suspicious
Glass jars,
Particularly
The snacks
Floating in
Some sort of
Murky fluid.
 
Tasty – maybe –
But.
 
Highballs are kinda
Too high,
And martinis
Strep your throat.
 
And the wine
Well…
You would be
looking around,
Hoping to see Jesus,
Doing His thing
With
A bucket of
Water.
 
D.E. BA U.E
03092020

Then Came Each Actor Upon His Ass

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Then Came Each Actor Upon His Ass

And it was good.

So very good.

And each had food

Unto itself

And unto himself

The feedbag was full

The groaning board groaned

The drink was abundant

The water trough quenched

The wine barrel quenched

And it was good

And so the first day passed.

 

Nixon And Trump Walk Into A Bar

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~ Mr. President.

~ President Tricky.

~You know I’m dead, right?

~I’m not one for details.

~It was details that did me in.

~I just dined with the Queen and was right jolly.

~So?

~So, I didn’t spill soup. I can handle details.

~You didn’t spill soup when we ate together, either.

~We had some good talks then – thanks.

~ You’re trying to replace me.

~ What?

~ In the affections of the American people.

~ Have you been drinking?

~ Fucking A about that. You are ruining my reputation.

~ I don’t even think about your reputation – believe me.

~ But you’re pulling a Nixon.

~ Not even close, Dick. May I call you Dick?

~ Sure, Donny. Is it true you don’t drink?

~ Not a drop.

~ Jesus – you do this stuff sober?

~ I’ve got the Will of the People and the Blessing of God.

~ God doesn’t give a shit.

~ I know that. And neither do the People.

~ They’ll take you down, Donny.

~ That was a big part of your problem, Dick.

~ What?

~ You cared what people thought of you.

~ They brought me down – the bastards.

~ Yeh – but you lived out your life OK.

~ Heh! I became an Elder Statesman.

~ And kept out of prison.

~ If I had sung, I would have brought down the whole corrupt Elite with me.

~ If I drank, I’d drink to that, Dick.

~ So, Donny, do you plan sticking around?

~ While I’m having fun – yeh.

Truth And Drink With Alison Alexandra

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The woman straightens with enough speed to lose a few drops of her conversational whiskey. She looks at Alison Alexandra in surprise and appreciation. A translucent mask is peeled from her face. She is animated. Her eyes are expectant.

“You are new here.”

“You’re the observer.” Alison Alexandra smiles.

“But I never say what I really see.” The woman finally takes a real drink. “None of us do.”

“But you come up to me – with your observations.”

“In truth -”

The woman stops. She realises how rarely she tells the truth. She is startled that she is about to do so. She is apprehensive.

“In truth, it is on a dare.”

“Someone has dared you to ask me?”

“Actually, a number of people have put money in a pot to see if this will happen.”

“To approach me?”

“Yes.”

“How much am I worth?”

The woman raises her glass and laughs. “A bottle of Scotch.”

“Good Scotch?”

“Not really.” The woman is apologetic, yet she laughs. “It’s not that calibre of party.”

DE

(image)https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/92/c8/a9/92c8a9d4112b23627fd7c39a07440c35.jpg

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