Stevieslaw Exclusive: Secret Service Code Names (Steve Bannon now Wormtongue)

Posted on November 17, 2016 by stevieslaw

Stevieslaw Exclusive: Secret Service code names(Steve Bannon now Wormtongue)

It has long been known that the Secret Service uses code names for the President, Vice-President and his closest advisors so they may react to an emergency without letting an adversary know what they are responding to.

Now, our very own political correspondent, Smokey Diamond, has come up with the names the Secret Service will be using for the new administration. Smokey tells us that the names have been derived from the last two volumes of The Ring Trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien. In the interest of National Security, Smokey has refused to divulge the codes used for Donald Trump or Mike Pence (feel free to pencil in Sauron and Saruman next to their names if you like), but citing that same national security, Smokey is thrilled to be able to tell everyone that Steve Bannon is now know as Grima Wormtongue.

Wikipedia has:

Gríma, called (the) Wormtongue, is introduced in The Two Towers as the chief advisor to King Théoden of Rohan and henchman of Saruman. Gríma serves as an archetypal sycophant, flatterer, liar, and manipulator, and is considered to be based by Tolkien on the Beowulf character Unferth.

Wormtongue has also been known to eat hobbits and to lust after youngish elves.

Smokey feels that Wormtongue a concise and accurate characterization of Steve Bannon—“always call a nazi a nazi,” she is fond of saying.

Here at Stevieslaw, we suggest that everyone use the appellation “wormtongue,” any time they want to write or talk about Mr. Bannon—oops, I mean wormtongue.

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Stevieslaw: Flotilla

Posted on November 12, 2016 by stevieslaw

My poem, “Flotilla,” won honorable mention in last week’s Poetry Nook’s contest.  It was originally published in, “Weatherings” an Anthology of poetry about homelessness, aging, and our planet by Future Cycle Press as part of their good works project.  The project seems even more appropriate today.

Flotilla

You left behind
one half a jelly donut,
stale as last Wednesday;
some clothing, moth-eaten,
mildewed; two shoes,
one black, one brown,
with newsprint for the soles.
You left behind a paper sack
of winter warmth, and poetry
by Whitman, Poe and Crane,
well-fingered and browned in age.

You walked into the river
and left behind four dollars
and eighteen cents, which I
have spent on coffee
and a banana nut muffin,
that crumbled in its freshness.

Your poetry; penned
in your perfect prep school hand,
was stuffed inside two newish socks
atop the brown and laceless shoe.
It is unnervingly good,
but I can use the socks.
I crumpled your words in their freshness,
and set them to sail upon the river,
page by remarkable page.

 

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Stevieslaw: It can’t happen here department

Posted on November 9, 2016 by stevieslaw

The Writer’s Almanac ran this today.  Smokey and I feel as if some entity is trying to tell us something.  If only we could figure it out.

 

Today is the anniversary of Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass (1938). Hitler and Joseph Goebbels used the assassination of a German diplomat by a Polish Jew as an excuse to organize a “spontaneous” riot. Goebbels told an assembly of National Socialists that “the Führer has decided that […] demonstrations should not be prepared or organized by the Party, but insofar as they erupt spontaneously, they are not to be hampered.” Throughout Germany and parts of Austria and Czechoslovakia, Nazi Stormtroopers and Hitler Youth put thousands of synagogues, homes, businesses, and schools to the torch — and blamed the Jews for the damage they caused. They smashed windows, looted shops, dragged Jews from their homes, and desecrated graves. The government gave instructions to firefighters not to intervene, and told local police to round up as many young Jewish men as their jails could hold. It was the first mass incarceration of Jews by the Nazi government, and so many people consider Kristallnacht to be the beginning of the Holocaust.

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Stevieslaw: Our advice for surviving until election day

Posted on November 3, 2016 by stevieslaw

Stevieslaw: Our advice for surviving until Election Day

Here at Stevieslaw, we will not insult your intelligence by suggesting you might shut off your TV and Radio, put your internet devices in a safety deposit box, and stop answering your phone or doorbell. IT’S TOO LATE FOR THAT. The campaign has been absorbed by the air we breathe and the water we drink. You can’t hide from it—on this planet.

No. In thinking over what our friends have been telling us over the last few days, we are struck by a common theme. People we know are not saying, “hello” or “how are you.” They simple tell us, over and over again, “my stomach hurts.”

So, we just want to let you know that in State College, the best buy for Pepto-Bismol—that life saving pink liquid, is at the Sam’s Club on the Benner Pike. At Sam’s, you can get four giant size bottles in one package for a very good price. In addition, they will help you carry the stuff to your car. We are assured, by the only mathematician not currently calculating voting probabilities—our own Cousin Myron, that the four bottle will be enough to keep a family of four out of the emergency room until Tuesday night at 11.

Those of us without significant faith often turn to our singer songwriters for comfort and wisdom. Here, we share the Simon and Garfunkle song: American Tune, which has been running in my head all day:

“American Tune”

Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken, and many times confused
Yes and I’ve often felt forsaken, and certainly misused
Ah but I’m alright, I’m alright, I’m just weary thru my bones
Still you don’t expect to be bright and bon-vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered or driven to its knees
But it’s alright, it’s alright, for we live so well, so long
Still, when I think of the road we’re traveling on
I wonder what’s gone wrong, I can’t help it I wonder what’s gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying, I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me, smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying, and high up above my eyes could clearly see
The statue of liberty, sailing away to sea, and I dreamed I was flying

But we come on a ship they called Mayflower
We come on a ship that sailed the moon
We come in the ages’ most uncertain hours and sing an American tune
And it’s alright, oh it’s alright, it’s alright, you can be forever blessed
Still tomorrow’s gonna be another working day and I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying, to get some restS

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Stevieslaw: Don’t Get Too Comfortable

Posted on October 31, 2016 by stevieslaw

 

by Steven Deutsch

 

Don’t Get Too Comfortable

When I was five or six my brother told me
I was swapped at birth.
“Dad liked the idea of two boys,”
he said one night, in the tenement room we shared,
“so they traded my sister for you at the hospital.
Her name is Sheila and she lives in the Bronx—
up near Yankee Stadium,” he added for authenticity.

As I grew, I realized how much that helped explain.
Good grades, good manners, good behavior—
just as the lack of schoolyard fights with razor blades and broken bottles
signaled my specialness in a family where my brother’s “work release”
was treated with all the significance of a Nobel Prize in Medicine.
When I was ten he told me, “Sheila is way smarter than you are.
I think my parents are having second thoughts.” He was home
from the halfway house downtown to reclaim nine tenths of our room.

At fifteen, I thought I should ask his parents.
But that year I grew eight inches and gained
a nose and ears four times too large for my face.
With glasses, freckles, and red hair
I didn’t need Aunt Kate to tell me,
in her slurried alcoholic murmur,
that I looked like no one in the family.
My brother wrote a lot that year,
on prison-issue stationery,
to remind me “not to get too comfortable.”

At eighteen, I went away to school.
“To learn a trade,” parroted my fat-headed Uncle Arthur.
His forty-year-old son, he often told us, made real good money
at the craps game at the local schoolyard.
“He’s knows to bring an extra pair of dice,”
he’d say to anyone who’d listen.
My brother sent a photo of his first-born girl.
“I’ve named her Sheila,” he penciled on the back.

I found a hundred reasons to stay away from home.
My brother married and divorced on schedule.
The nieces and the nephews, whose names I barely know
are more numerous than the pebbles placed
upon the headstones set for mom and dad.
My brother took a third strike in 2006.
He writes to rant about the smallness of his cell.
We speak sometimes—rehash the better memories.
Each time I quiz him on my birth.
Each time he warns me “not to get too comfortable.”
Each time I get to hear my brother laugh.

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West Wind

Posted on October 24, 2016 by stevieslaw

img_0019
The Cremation of Percy Bysshe Shelley, by Louis Édouard Fournier (France), 1889.

 

 

West Wind

“Lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud…”
(Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Ode to the West Wind”)
We let the west wind take his remains.
Gentle, she bore each flaming ash skyward
to burn with momentary brilliance
then vanish like an unremembered word.

And in the end, there was little left–
an unremarkable band in black
who mourned in minor voices
and the west wind
who did not pause to grieve.

 

Steve Deutsch

This was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge.

Steve Deutsch, a semi-retired practitioner of the fluid mechanics of mechanical hearts and heart valves, lives with his wife Karen–a visual artist, in State College, PA. Steve writes poetry, short fiction and the blog stevieslaw@wordpress.com. His most recent publications have appeared in The Ekphrastic Review, New Verse News, Silver Birch Press, Misfit Magazine and One-sentence poems.
Sent from my iPad

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Stevieslaw: Our Debate Takeaway

Posted on October 20, 2016 by stevieslaw

Stevieslaw: Our debate takeaway

After breakfasting on smoked mackerel, our fearless reporter, Smokey Diamond explained the debate in the following way:

Hillary Clinton, the nominee of the Democratic Party, promised that she would bring all the nations and groups with a stake in Syria to the negotiating table. “We will find a solution for this terrible tragedy,” vowed Clinton. The former Secretary of State went on to name all of the participants, who they will represent, their birthdays, the names of their immediate family members and their pets, their facial characteristics, and their favorite books. She closed with the location of the conference, its time and date, the size and shape of the table, the seating chart, and the menu for the first week.

Donald Trump, the nominee of the Republican Party, promised American women that he would limit his sexual assaults upon them to obscene phone calls. “This is huge,” he trumpeted.

I think Smokey captured the essence of the debate perfectly.

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Stevieslaw: And now what?

Posted on October 19, 2016 by stevieslaw

Stevieslaw: And now what?

It is becoming increasingly apparent to those with their finger upon the pulse of American life, that the world as we know it will come to a crashing halt on the night of November 8th. On that night Donald will make some semblance of a concession speech and leave to play golf with Putin in the Caucasus Mountains. No, we are not predicting an armed revolt. Trump’s “basket of deplorables” will fade away. Sure, they will maintain the view that the whole world—women, minorities, immigrants, and the media, is against them, but headless and as uninteresting to the general public as they were before the campaign, they will crawl back into the woodwork.

No. We are worried about you.

We are worried that you will be left with nothing to talk about, nothing to read about and nothing to watch on the tube? How will you fill the endless hours you have been spending following the orange monster of Halloween, 2016?

The media is in a panic—boardrooms are packed with anxious pundits. Jeff Zucker told Smokey Diamond last week, “I believe that the only thing that can save CNN is a long and nasty war.” Mark Zuckerberg predicted in a recent phone interview that, “facebook posts will drop by at least 95%. Most of our remaining posts will consist of people congratulating each other on another birthday.”

The American Psychological Association is cautioning that, “Americans in record numbers will be adrift. Lacking even the basic skills to converse about anything other than Trump’s latest folly, many will lose substantial touch with reality.” Pharmaceutical companies and emergency medical providers are gearing up for what is being termed, “the new depression.” A spokesperson for Eli Lilly said, “There is no way we can produce enough anti-depressant in time. Hopeless, sad-eyed causalties of the endless campaign will be roaming the streets of our cities and crying into their designer beers—unable to give voice to their emptiness.”

Snap out of it, people! Now is the time to find something else to talk about. Start, if you must, with the weather. Shut off your TV’s. Join groups. Interact. Play words with friends with strangers. Go bowling.

We, at Stevieslaw, are quite concerned. Write us and let us know how you are handling the awful emptiness, which is sure to follow our last raucous laugh at the departing back of a defeated Donald Trump, as he leaves the world’s stage forever.

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If I Were an Editor at Silver Birch Press

Posted on October 18, 2016 by stevieslaw

img_0015

If I were an editor at Silver Birch Press and read

My
Auspicious
Publishing
Ploy
I would be perplexed.
Is that the poem?
Or is it perhaps the title of the poem?
Have those persnickety, hyper-modern line breaks,
often ill-chosen and incomprehensible,
finally made their way to the title?

And who would ever think to use “auspicious” in the title of a poem?
Favorable, fortunate, having omens of success,
according to my well-worn Chambers Dictionary.
But shouldn’t I, as editor, be the one
to decide what is and is not auspicious?
But if I am editor and author
would I not have taken my proclivities to account
before making that audacious choice?
My head spins—it’s as puzzling as postmodernism.

There is no denying
the poetry of the words.
The repetitive “p” propels the reader
swiftly and seamlessly through the last three lines.
“Publishing” itself—for which
the encapsulated “b”
is a visual echo of all those “p’s,”
is more than mere inversion.
How sweet to find a need for it!
And how could I not notice
the playful near-rhyme
of “my” and “ploy”
that ties the imaginative foray
so tightly from front to back.

If I were king of the word,
I would soothe away a thousand sorrows.
But while I wait for my uncertain anointment,
perhaps an editor at Silver Birch Press
might find in my wordplay,
a reason to smile, or to chuckle
or, poetry be praised—to laugh.

PHOTO: The author/editor in his lair, surrounded by the tools of his trade.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: : First, I thought, cool prompt. They are going to get a wide range of responses. Then, I thought, who comes up with these prompts? Then I thought, what a cool job. And, that gave me a way into the poem.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Steven Deutsch, a semi-retired practitioner of fluid mechanics as applied to mechanical hearts and valves, lives a quiet life in State College, Pennsylvania, with his artist wife Karen. He has published both poetry and short fiction—most recently with Silver Birch Press.

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Stevieslaw Exclusive: Trump to vote for Hillary

Posted on October 8, 2016 by stevieslaw

Stevieslaw Exclusive: Donald Trump to vote for Hillary
In an exclusive interview with Donald Trump this morning, our fearless reporter, Smokey Diamond, learned that Trump will vote for Hillary Clinton for President.
Mr. Trump, who has confided in Smokey in the past, said “Not only am I racist and misogynist, but I am incapable of change. I have no interest or understanding of National or International affairs and am pretty much unteachable. I am thoroughly disgusting and I love it. Hillary is the only rational choice for President and I intend to vote for her.”
Republican leaders quickly vowed to stick with the Trump campaign. Speaker Ryan said, “Despite Donald’s unfortunate choice of words, which I wish he would quickly disavow, this is in no way a deal breaker.” Reince Priebus announced that while continuing to push for Trump’s election, he was planning on changing his name and “finding something useful to do with my life after November.” Mike Pence clarified his position by flatly stating, “At least Trump is not gay.”
Donald would neither confirm nor deny that he was planning to campaign for Clinton. As to dropping out of the race, Mr. Trump shook his head no and said, “That would be an honorable thing to do, and for me the honorable thing is you know…”

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