SIDEBARS

Some people get upset when friends go off on sidebars on their posts.  They want everything on the post to be about them. I guess that’s fine for some people.  Me, I don’t really care if my friends—or even members of the general public go off on little sidebars.  I’ve always been a reactive artist.  I feed off of stimuli going on around me.  I overhear something on a train or see a newspaper headline or look at graffiti on a bathroom wall and I react to it.  I try to turn it into some form of literature.  I may post a half-hearted gentle reminder to folks leaving me behind on my own post but I won’t have a temper tantrum or unfriend them.  I do issue a caveat though:  You would do well to copyright your thoughts if you place them on my post.  I will steal them shamelessly if the spirit so moves me and I find a way to crystalize it into what I would like to believe is art.

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/prose/1091870

SWAN SONG

I was only 5 years old when Columbo first came on the air.  Suffice to say, I didn’t start watching it from the start.  I vaguely remember my parents having it on from time to time.  My mother was a Columbo fan.  I didn’t really become a fan until I was around 16 years old.  It happened quite by chance. 

I was home alone and decided to turn on the TV.  Serendipity reared its wondrous head as an episode of Columbo was on the screen.  It was the episode featuring Johnny Cash as gospel singer Tommy Brown whose wife wanted all the money to go to the church.  Tommy Brown just wanted to party and chase skirts.  So it’s quite understandable that he would feel the need to off  the nagging (capital B). 

Anyway, I turned it on mid-episode after the nagging wife (I later learned played wonderfully by Ida Lupino).  The point I turned the TV on was when Johnny Cash was throwing a post murder party and playing a version of Kris Kristofferson’s song Sunday Morning Coming Down.  TV was a lot more prudish at the time so you can imagine my 16 year old delight to turn on the TV and hearing Johnny Cash singing “On a Sunday morning sidewalk, wishing Lord that I was stoned.” 

I was hooked.  I started watching all the reruns of Columbo that I could find.  It also turned me into a big Johnny Cash fan.  I still view his version of Sunday Morning Coming Down as the best version of that song.  That’s pretty good considering Ray Stevens did the first version and this song was also covered by Willie Nelson, Roy Clark, Waylon Jennings and Lynn Anderson.

Later in life I would face many Sunday morning sidewalks wishing that I was stoned but that’s a tale for another time—or possibly a tale best left untold.  But sitting here listening to a Shawn Mullins version of the song just got me to thinking about this episode and the best version of one of the finest songs in the Kris Kristofferson canon.

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/prose/1090511

Mail Order Bride

I’ll never understand these facebook algorithms. I check off a like for a Pussy Riot post. I occasionally earn their top fan badge. I check off a like for a Nadya Tolokonnikova post. This is usual behavior on my part.

So I keep scrolling down and I come across a suggested page for “Russian Girls” and a suggested page for “East European Women.” So am I looking for a mail order bride that they would suggest these pages? My heritage is German but my last name isn’t Drumpf.

I would think that my support for Pussy Riot and their “Smash the Patriarch” agenda would clearly indicate different interests. I’m probably not looking for someone I can get shipped in from a Slavic country or otherwise.

so try seduction on a modestly shy boy morals corrupted

I would think they would be giving me suggested pages like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie or Saul Alinsky. That might be more in line. Then again I do follow the Suicide Girls so maybe that’s the dilemma. Some would say I’m conflicted. I prefer to say I’m complex. Maybe they should do less thinking for me and let me stumble upon my own folly. That might be best for all of us.

a mail order bride thoughtlessly left in box marked: return to sender