20160616 (hair tear)

Cold weather, rain and snow, for marathoners. Serves them right

Two things fill me with rage

This morning: marathon execs

And computer ads that cannot 

Be deleted. I rose this morning

At six twenty-eight (I know

This because I spent 10 minutes

Lying there trying to decide if

Further sleep was possible).

When I had gotten some clothes

On and after tending the kids’

Dishes I put on my winter

Jacket to walk Loki in the 40

Degree Fahrenheit cold and

Rain. Forty is my arbitrarily

Chosen cut-off for clothing

Him in his doggy-coat. The

Marathon organizers had labelled

The trees and power poles in

Our neighborhood with “Don’t

Park on this street 5/15/16 from

Six AM to 2:30 PM”—no 

Explanation given. I knew to

Garage my car on the Vine 

Court side of the property,

But as I walked my usual way

With the pup it became clear

That at nine, when I planned

To leave, the runner’s route

Blocked every way out. The 

Authorities of whom I requested

Help offered, “Not this year.

Call your councilman.” I

Regrettably informed them

That I was, “Bomb throwing

Angry” so I expect a visit

From the local gendarme

About my casual reference to

Terrorism. The street did clear

Finally about 11:30 so I could

Have gotten to church for the

Last fifteen minutes to tell the

Whole truth—so to speak.

The other boil-buster is Internet

Advertising which is not happy

With sitting there, off to the 

Side, trying to get me to notice

And maybe read or better click

On. No, big no, they have to

Move into your reading between

Paragraphs, or worse scream

At you from somewhere south

Of your gaze to make you scroll

Down to find the “X” that will

Silence their pitch, but another

Big no, they move around once

The cursor is anywhere near so

As to require a Norden bombsight

To hit accurately. But last and 

Most heinous, are those which

Piggy-back on other ads and 

Secretly place MacKeeper or

Some other demonic program

With no way to remove them—

Any clicking gets you only 

Deeper into their clutches

Like wiggling in quicksand.

Then the pissers slow everything

Down and post the whirling

Wheel of death as you try

Desperately to exorcise your

Operating system. The only

Way out is to subscribe to a

Monthly fee which will solve

The problems. That’s kind of

How the Mafia extorts small

Businesses—“Look at it as

Fire insurance.” I’ve placed

A call with a friend’s computer

Geek and am waiting to shell

Out one hundred clams for relief.

At least while waiting I managed

To get these disasters a bit off

My neck and onto yours, dear

Reader.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016