Nifty quotes from Total Moisture

I’ve always regarded Europe as more or less of a restaurant.

"Still trying to wrestle reality down and have your way with it, Toad?"

But he was OK in small doses, and was one of the three or four hundred people I could really be myself with.

"So what’s that you’re digging, a hole?" I says. We pulled our chairs closer.

It’s not easy having to start over at my age. When you get to my time of life what you want is a little dignity. I’m just going to sit here and think about all the women I’ve treated badly.

But there was solace to be found neither in the achievements of culture nor the amusements of the mob. This was fun!

I don’t know, I’m of eighty-five minds about everything. I just try to lie still and not think.

Some kind of music came on with furrows in its forehead.

The problem as I see it is to embrace life without gutting yourself on an altar.

Self-condemnation is its own reward.

Of course my frivolity about it is a mask but it does convince me.

He came from a long line of get-out-there-and-get-that-money types and was I think inclined to question my seriousness. Considered me a mere fun-haver, which I think is a legitimate goal in life, though I regard the word mere as value-laden.

I had almost died of grief myself when it hadn’t worked out but, when I investigated the size of her dowry I found little choice.

I-could-not-love-thee-dear-so-much-loved-I-not-moi-même-more sort of thing.

It was after dawn. Not really my country, after dawn. I don’t like to see after dawn unless I sneak up on it from behind.

I needed sleep. Sleep is I guess you might say my passion. The ideal state. Be good to sleep and sleep will be good to you, is how I see it.

For goblins loom up at us from all sides, do they not? The average person needs enormous courage just to make it through the day. I spend most of it in bed.

Unless the child is there. The child is the Anti-Sleep. It enters the room and stands silently by the night table directing thought waves at me. For it is malign, the child. A thing of evil disguised as a small girl.

"Oh, I know, I know," said Count Clarence, "she's much the best part of me. I really can't stand her anymore."

Your-vulgarity-varies-as-the-power-of-your-music-system-and-the-visibility-of-your-shoes sort of thing.

All right, I hadn’t been the best possible person, I can admit that. I hadn’t always put the other guy first. I had chosen perhaps to cultivate some sensations over others, that’s true. I wasn’t even going out with a fully integrated personality.

No, I had forsaken the project of self-improvement to be borne along on a tide of whatever. Delinquent even to the discipline of accumulating income. Adrift, in the ultimate sense. No anchor. Thirty-eight years of trying to work my wang into life and what did I have to show for it? Waist-high in water and about to achieve total moisture.

"Well," I said, putting my hands behind my head, "I’ve sure learned my lesson. I’m not going to be so conceited any more!"

Strauss-Kahn, an Hommage

Strauss-Kahn,
Strauss-Kahn,
What kinda steroids are you on,
Strauss-Kahn?

Strauss-Kahn,
Strauss-Kahn,
What about those of us who are non-
Strauss-Kahns?

Hollande
Had a certain bond
With his favorite blonde,
But he looked aronde—
And the blonde was gone!
She was out on the lawn
Gettin’ it on
With Strauss-Kahn.

Michelle
Was looking swell,
But you can never tell:
The hand on her back
Traced a winding track
Right down to her crack.
She thought it was Barack
And gave him a whack.
The hand was withdrawn
And she gazed upon
Strauss-Khan.
Berlusconi
Had a rigid baloney
For Melania’s yoni.
On some pretext
He sent her a text
And was deeply vexed
By what came next:
She said, You want to hump
Mrs. Trump?
Don’t be a chump.

You're much too plump,
And what are you going to do, stand on a stump?
You need a frump
To jump.
You should point your artillery
At Hillary.

Is Angela Merkel
In your circle?
Princess Anne
Could use a man.
Or hey!
Theresa May!
No, it's sweet that you’re coming on,

I don't mean to yawn,
But you're tryng to let on
That you're a Don Juan.
Come on!
The real paragon
Of sexual brawn—
Is Strauss-Khan!

So Berlusconi
With a limp baloney.
Called up his old crony,
Bill,
And said, I’m over the hill!
Bill said, I’m over Hil.

She's getting too shrill.
Even in dishabille
She’s not much of a thrill.
But t
here’s lots to do still.
It’s not Capitol Hill
But you can still sink the drill,
If you have but the skill,
And the will.
Take a pill.
Try to chill.
But forget about Hil.
She’s worth several mil
But if looks could kill
She’d be guiltier still.
Not even Strauss-Kahn
Would dare take her on.
You’d better log on
To some new liaison.

Meghan
Is taken.
Why don’t you get cosy
With Madame Sarkosy?
Or break a few eggs
On Brigitte’s legs?

Sophie Trudeau—
But it’s a long way to go.
But don't point your baton
At the West-Wing swan.
Those days are gone.
We're just not Strauss-Kahn.

Strauss-Kahn,
Strauss-Kahn,
What kinda steroids are you on,
Strauss-Kahn?

Strauss-Kahn,
Strauss-Kahn,
What about those of us who are non-
Strauss-Kahns?


Robert MacLean is an independent filmmaker. His The Light Touch is on Amazon PrimeTubi and Scanbox, and his 7-minute comedy is an out-loud laugh. He is also a novelist, a playwright, a blogger, a YouTuber, a film reviewer, a literary critic, and a stand-up comic poet. Born Toronto, PhD McGill, taught at Canadian universities, too cold, live Greece, Irish citizen. No brains but an intellectual snob.


“I'm afraid of NOTHING except being bored!”―Greta Garbo

The Light Touch on Amazon Prime

The Natural Wish to Be Robert MacLean


Poems are like farts.

Poems are like farts.
Other people’s stink.  One’s own
Have subtle perfume.


(From Senryu, http://robertmaclean.blogspot.com/2010/11/senryu_6824.html)