“Weather Radio Said 34…”

“Weather Radio Said 34…”

“Weather Radio Said 34…”
— Read on richwrapper.com/2019/01/23/weather-radio-said-34/

Richard writes works of art in all their visual glory. He carves words and turns them into unique pieces of literary delight. A feast for the soul.

18 thoughts on ““Weather Radio Said 34…”

  1. You, my dear Yassy, are Seventeen-Kind. Since I am overdrawn at the time-clock today and I have some of Bruce Jewett’s cold weather coming and tender are my tomatoes and peppers and want a covering readied I shall postpone for a brief time turning my attention to Yaskhanland. The collard greens and kale and suchlike scoff at the trembling ‘maters and join me in yelling: “Bring It On, you limp vegetal-heads. The colder it can get the better…sweetens our leaves and tells the baddie bugs go away ’til Sept-Never. But who am I to say I sway with photosynthetic greenies over some belladona relatives. Reminds: must find my ichi ban and globe eggplant seeds and get them in queue for a February starter flat. The okra seeds still asleep in their long pods stir not a mucusy muscle. Some folks have all the luck. I want my fancy pear and cherry and grape tomatoes ready to flower by Easter! So, there! Weather Winging My Way!

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    1. I found yellow and red pear tomatoes clinging hopefully to their vast vines and moved more than half from the East-facing front yard to the garden which sometime this week I hope to spade over and add compost and leaves for a planting soonest of okra and beans. The sun now shines on that northern patch leading to the bluestem palmetto my sister-in-law adores and I tolerate as it forms a handy hide-shield for my after-garden gardenhosedown before indoor I hie for a more fulsome and warmer shower…demud before so the outside is clean for my dirty delights. Still owe you a scalloped potatoes n ham n more receipt and expect it soonerishly. As I found a great source of asparagus pencils to dot along with butter and cheeses, tucked in as it were with mushrooms and suchlike additives.

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  2. Glad I left the sledhammer at leaning attention by the garden door: one suspects both the door and the head will require readjustment before I can squeeze the upper zero-tenths of that with which I think – ergo summing along blithely ignorant of the swelling – through such a narrow straits. For a time I came to both my six senses earlier this morning and wondered why such a fuss: clearly Lady Yaskhan had slipped her leash and lavished praise belonging elsewhere, or, perhaps, a last quick swipe keyboardward as all seven of “they” in white coats toting butterfly nets hauled her off in the company of several other misadventurers also pra(is)ying in clearly a wrong pew. (But I washed recently…both big toes, too!) February is gonna happen whether I will it or no, so I won’t carry on much further…just to say, CharlieZero, -Eugenia and Yassy: all three – report at once to The Principal’s Office! Which reminds: read a raucous report from a Cal-cified state legislator – unless, gasp: memory serves perhaps a Congress Critter – eschewing the usage of personal and any-person pronouns. Already dealt with that: but come to find dash-of-slappery from the esteemed (by just whom I have yet to discern) The Center for Gender, Sexualities, and Women’s Studies Research at The University of Florida in sad Gainesville, Florida in which a Wile(less?) Nik – names reverse to conceal identities – reports completion of “their” non-thesis project this summer. A question pursues: who does one go about “parenting outside of gender binary”? I think I safely can decipher Gender-Binary(hood). Further, the profile reports Nik presented a portion of his book from the viewpoint of a genderqueer parent. Further, Nik continues his work as a professor at a once-junior college and now a state college without much change of temperature or latitude with the attitude that instructors are to be called Professors and the nearby-to-Gatorville Santa Fe College, now safely missing the Junior or the even more-recent appellation of Community, with this stunning bifurcatory admission: “they are also beginning work on an academic publication that addresses the potentially damaging effects of using umbrella terms in connection to gender identies.” Whaaa? And this “They”-person says “They” are a “Professor of English.”
    Other laughter-points ensued.
    Pardon the gag-reflex. Ooops, did I just open a precipitation-provisional-sheltering device?

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  3. Just now realized re: “Nik” that I have sinned. Mea Maxima Culpa! I gender-identified Nik twice as – gasp! – male. My most abject but not-at-all humble assumptory apologies, Nik. I hope “They” (or is the correct usage herein “Them?” find it in “Their” heart(s?) so to accept.

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      1. I hate picking on the defenseless: but Nik’s grammer – and possibly grampa too – was not the only English I found puzzling – and from PhDs in the English game, too. And I might even take out a rainbow flag one day – so long as it does not end near the staff in a U. S. national ensign’s field of blue with stars…that sacrilege garners neither respect nor “understanding” of its alleged apropos-ness from me.

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      2. I whole-Jedly support Rainbow Flagging. Just so long as no national ensign is used as a base template. Got no qualms with those who want to advertise whatever it is they want advertised…so long as I am not upon intruded nor are certain symbols already copy-flown as it were. Like your graphic, Yassy. I had – fortunately the artist now is safely dead – a standing offer for a full frontal (chest) tattoo of a deflated basketball supporting a plucked turkey with a bent, rusty screw driven at an angle through said basketball, with a length of frayed twine wound through the screw’s tip, passing behind the ball and reappearing to foul the foremost tip of said bent fastener (the U. S. Marine Corps’ emblem, copied from The British Royal Marines, though ours (mine) shows the Western Hemisphere inside the globe and the Royal Marines’ take the Eastern. Only Marines may – and not always even then – safely mock themselves. Safety is – still – overrated.

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