Happy MotherF’ing New Year 😊😊😊

The fuel burning furnace shot out a spark. I see it land on a newspaper pile and catch.
I tell my housemate this.
They say, “You’re an extemist.”
I say, “You’re anti-science.”
We smell the smoke now.
But the fridge door still leans against the wall.
I’d wanted it mounted left.
They’d wanted it mounted right.
Fire alarms go off now.
I take one down, remove the battery.
They grab a broom, smash the other.
I hold a knife to their throat. “You’re a fascist fuck.”
They hold a pot of boiling oil over my head. “You’re a commie cuck.”

Inspired by Bravo, F! Illustration by Fred Ni.

Bravo, F!

The word Fuck has stood the test of time. Other vulgarities have come and gone, and for good reason. Take “Douche Bag” for example. Fuck is a constant. Never politically incorrect or cancelled. Gender neutral. A classic really. Up there with It’s a Wonderful Life. Now in vogue courtesy of Taylor. And quite versatile. A noun, verb, adverb or adjective. Capable of evoking a wide range of visceral emotion from eroticism to rage. It is complimented with the most revered figures—Mother and Jesus. And when used with Holy it is all powerful and divine. Good for you, Fuck.

Inspired by Sometimes used in the present participle as a meaningless intensive. Illustration by Yuliya Shavyra.

Sometimes used in the present participle as a meaningless intensive

I’d learned most of my off-colour vocabulary by my seventh birthday; but I was always looking for proof that all those dirty words were, in fact, real. The first big dictionary I found had its own pedestal in the middle of the Yorkville library, but it didn’t have what I was looking for.

The Compact Oxford included all thirteen volumes of the 1931 edition, but it didn’t include the word “fuck.” Years it took, but I finally did find it, in my grandmother’s humble Webster’s, where the editors had somehow come round to approaching those words just like the others.

Inspired by Ban Small-Mindedness, Not Books. Image from Merriam-Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary, eighth edition.

Ban Small-Mindedness, Not Books

Recently I’ve discovered shelves of banned books in some bookstores. They are proudly displayed, a poke in the eye to the small-minded—and a reminder that our freedoms are never assured. Attempts continue to cull books from stores and libraries around the world. Perish the notion that anyone should suffer free thought! The American Library Association keeps a list of banned or challenged literary classics. Read it and weep—then get angry. Those who ban books are rarely on the right side of history. If imagination, storytelling, and free expression can be deemed offensive, I'll proudly stand with the guilty.

Inspired by Box of Old Stuff and my incessant search for books to give at Christmas. Illustration by Erik Drooker on Freedom to Read. The American Library Association’s “Banned & Challenged Classics” list can be found here.

Box of Old Stuff

Who gets the ornaments? The crushed wire-frame angels Carly and I made. The paper-accordion stars that rain glitter when you pick them up. The baked-dough reindeer heads with crumbling red noses. Which one of us wants the dinged tin star for the top of the tree? My house is too cluttered as it is, and they won't go with your blue and silver colour scheme, and I’m not shipping them cross country to Carly, even if she wants them. Should we chuck them? God knows we couldn't sell them even at a rummage sale. They're not worth anything, are they?

Inspired by What Am I to Believe? Photo by Nancy.

What Am I to Believe?

What am I to believe, my dear?
Everything is sacred up here
Do you still speak to God, my dear?
Does he know we're still here?

Save your words, my dear
The truth has consequences here
Beware of the angels you hear
Halos tend to rust up here

Are we on our own, my dear?
To be made is to be alone, I fear
Who do we hold to account my dear?
Or has it just been us all along?

What should we do now, my dear?
Maybe it’s time to get out of here
Maybe it’s time to go

Inspired by Those Old Emotions. Photo by Fred Ni.

Those Old Emotions

December is here.
The days dark and cold.
And it brings back again.
Those old emotions.

Memories of childhood, magical and sweet.

Hanging in the twinkling of lights.

When the family fractures were so soft and unseen. 

Now grown and commuted, further splintered with time. 

Obligation in lieu of self-preservation.

Our superficial smiles perfectly placed.

Uncomfortable feelings simmering in anticipation.

Slated for eruption December 24 to January 1.

Privately yearning for our young free minds, and carefree days.

The innocent child is still within. 

Leading us with her heart if we surrender. 

To where we can be held and discovered. 

Inspired by the season and The Spoons. Image by Athiyada.

Minutes

Location: The Commoner, 2067 Dundas Street West.

Time: December 7, 5:00 P.M.

Attendees: Nancy, Ron, and Roy—plus Fred and Wendy.

Absent: Laurie.

Unfinished business: None.

New business:

—Impressions and engagement are essentially unchanged. Our two recent pledges expressed their enthusiasm, the veterans their acceptance.

—Problematic stories and f-bombs.

—Dog stuff, both pro and con.

—Complaints regarding neighbourhood infrastructure, mostly water-related.

—The fastest way to get downtown.

Actions:

—Going forward, members are asked to announce their posts in the regular group e-mail, including the due date for the next contribution, so that Roy isn’t always stuck being the deadline bully.

AI image by Gencraft.

You Wish

Before there was online shopping, even before there was the Internet there was the Sears Christmas Wishbook. Thick with potential, its arrival sparked a frisson of excitement among us Webbwood Estates snipes. I’d pore over those still-cold pages with the discerning eye of a Harrod’s merchandiser, nodding over the artistically back-lit dinosaur and Hot Wheels dioramas. I’d submit my list—with purchase order codes—in plenty of time. I rarely got anything I asked for, but disappointment never dampened my enthusiasm each year, when I could nestle that catalogue on my chubby little lap and pretend we had money.

Inspired by Virtual Therapy. Picture of the much coveted but never possessed Easy Bake Oven, from the Sears Wishbook, 1972.

Virtual Therapy

Feeling empty. 

Check social media

Scroll...

Scroll...

Everybody so happy, so fulfilled— 

Close IG, close Facebook, close TwitterX

Surf internet 

Deals, DEALS, DEALS— 

Click

Click

How did they know I needed that!? 

“Three left in stock” 

Gotta have

“Sixty-five people are currently viewing this product” 

Gotta have. Something, anything, to fill this emptiness

Hold it. Wait. Stop! Need to think…

“Take another 10% off at checkout” 

Now! Hurry! Click to get there

“Expedited delivery?”

Yes! I want it now!

“Your order is complete”

YES!

Close tab, rub hands, look out window

Feeling empty. 

Check social media. Everybody else so happy—

Inspired by Here’s a Day. Photo by Cliplab.