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Sunday Squibs with Joe McDonnell




Jerry is gone. How can that be!
The likes of this fellow we'll not again see.

Wishing the sad would stop grieving,
Like wishing the sick would stop sneezing.

On the casino bus so comradely we roll.
Once there, each seeks his lucky black hole.

Creationists are depriving themselves of the incredible story
of how we went from a single bacterium to homo ridiculous.

I know the ego is an illusion, but I hug it like
a frayed bit of blanket my parents keep cutting in half.

Old age is an eviction notice, but the part that I hate:
It tells us, "Get out," but it won't tell the date.

@jmcdonnell123


Comments

  1. 'Spot on' once again, especially the last one.

    'Ennaways', as you reminded me last week, Jerry often said, "Life is burning up!" -- having no regrets living the last half of his life, quite large, aboard Indian Summer, and disrupting the normal pace of events around here by having the audacity to take the summers off to travel the world, when so many had come to depend on his welding & fabrication abilility when their farm or industrial equipment broke down. Their hearts sank when his phone went:

    "You've reached Solom Machine Shop. I'm not able to take your call right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll call you back just as soon as I can." [ He meant, 'when I get home in late August, or so.']

    Yeah, Jerry was some guy.

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