Monthly Archives: January 2012

Litter n’ Lint…

It remains rather amazing how lint and litter, over a short period of time, can amass into little mountains of fuzz and excrement, respectively.

After a few days or weeks go by, and after many loads of laundry have been washed and dried, the lint accumulated from these multiple washings can reach astounding proportions. Likewise, if three or four days go by without cleaning the litterboxes, an extraordinary pile of kitty poop can be attained.

Sometimes, when the lint pile achieves such dizzying heights, it appears that perhaps a cat had inadvertently found itself inside, tumbling away in the dryer, and the resultant carpet peeled from the lint receptacle does indeed resemble the size and shape of a feline!

And those boxes; all that poop! What to do with it all? I use the clumping kind, and so that makes cleaning up a little easier. A little. We  have three cats, and three litter boxes. As is usual, the cats will only use two of them, the third always left in pristine condition, with nary a paw print in the sand. The other two can be overflowing, sometimes with bricks of s*** the size of…well, bricks. Mind you, this has not been an accumulation of kitty crap for weeks on end, unlike the monstrous lint ball, but a mere three or four days!

How is it possible that three felines can produce such an abundance of kitty poop? Astonishing. And I am the one who ends up doing the dirty work, scraping and sifting the mounds of litter, a most heinous task of excavating for excrement. How pleasant. I put the remains in a plastic shopping bag and put it aside, until the next hideous cleaning. After many forays of digging and straining, you can only imagine the amount of cat poop littering the basement.

And to that question of what to do with it all? When it begins to reach epic proportions, and the sour urine ammonia stench becomes unbearable, I empty it all into a trash bin (all 80 pounds of it). On a darkled, starlit night, I lug it out to my ancient vehicle, and patrol back roads, looking for the perfect spot. All with this putrid bin in the back seat.

Under the cover of darkness do I hurriedly get out (the car still running of course) and heave the offending bin from the car, drag it across a gullet, and strenuously upend the contents into the damp and Cimmerian woods. I then scurry back to the car and roar off into the night, the ghastly deed finally done. Until next time.

And that mountain of lint? Well, I suppose I can save enough up from now until October, and make a pretty good scarecrow out of it. What do you think?

Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.


The College Saunter…

Drenching rains never seem to dissuade budding adults as they wend their way along sundry walkways to their respective classes.

The winter winds seem to have no effect, as the majority of students choose to wear flimsy attire. They continue onward with their journeys, the rain, sleet, and snow pelting them with every footfall.

Nary an umbrella is seen, as perhaps the ‘drowned rat’ appearance is preferred. They slog on, finding themselves in a  classroom; slouched,damp, and dripping.

One wonders if such a countenance would prove deleterious to their assorted gadgets, as a drop or two of moisture could eventually short-circuit their…circuitry.

Braving along campus byways, with only a sweatshirt or hoodie on, some donning only a t-shirt and sandals (mind you, it is winter and the temperature hovers in the 20’s…) they all seem to have that hang-dog expression. It’s not so much the attire chosen, nor their collectively glum visages. It is the college gait that remains universal and rather risible.

No matter what college campus one is acquainted with, the college saunter is practiced far and wide. It matters not the weather outside, the time of day, or the season. It is a slow, controlled, practiced stroll, head down, jacket (if worn) unzippered, walking with shuffled careful footfalls and paying no heed whatsoever to others nor 3,000 vehicles that pass by perilously close.

The campus saunter, one supposes, makes one impervious to both weather conditions and speeding beasts of metal. One can only imagine their appearance once the destination sought is found. Wet, ragged, soaked, uncomfortable, shivering in the perpetual breeze inherent in all schools.

I, however, choose proper clothing, as well as the much maligned umbrella. But, I suppose, in my youth I, too, felt invincible against the sundry whims of nature and automobiles gleefully spraying puddles upon pedestrians.

Saunter on, students, but zip up your jacket. It’s cold out there! And didn’t your Mom ever tell you that you can catch a cold with wet hair?

Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.

Artist Brian Burris, New Show…

Just to let everyone know that an excellent painter will soon have an exhibit at the Davis Art Gallery, in Worcester, MA.

Artist Brian Burris will present his latest show, ‘Fire and Night’, and the opening reception will be on Thursday, February 16, from 5-7pm. (Click on the image for info about this work.)

Please do make it a point to venture there and peruse his many otherworldly and contemplative works.

Addendum to ‘Ad-Nauseum’…

In my previous posting, I lamented the fact that there is hardly any news on the Idiot Box anymore. Let me correct that last statement: there is hardly any ‘real’ news on the Boob Tube anymore.

The airwaves are owned by a tiny percentage of conglomerates, all with the same agenda, and hence does one not receive the truth about what the hell is going on in the world. But, there are alternative means of receiving news and, with anything, please do take the following sites with a grain of salt. One must always remain vigilant and censorious, but at least with these various web addresses, one can possibly get an inkling to what’s happening on this spinnin’ blue orb, without all the bread and circuses that currently saturate sundry media sources.

Please do peruse the following pages at your leisure:,,,,,,,,,,

PHG, 2012.

Last Light

Whether December or August vistas vie for your attention, the waning light from a wan winter afternoon or once brilliant summer day can hold one spellbound by its sheer magnificence.

To witness a sliver of sun upon a snow-covered copse can be rather breathtaking. Or perhaps you are the last sun worshipper who has stayed upon a stretch of sand, soaking up every last ray of sun. And before that enthralling orb sets upon the horizon, a brilliant shaft illuminates a lone house in the distance, the sunlit side standing in stark contrast to the gathering shadows that loom.

As in Hopper’s inspiring painting above, the last light upon any surface makes one pause and ponder such ethereal magic. Be it rooftops or trees, a solitary telephone pole or seagull almost in silhouette, the last vestiges of light never fail to entrance one’s soul.

Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved

Dreadfully Debased

Simply ‘Awe’-ful

 You will never find me using the word awesome in any of my writing, except in this relatively short post expounding upon the overkill  and corruption of this once magnificent word.

 Everywhere you look, especially in the sporting world, fans gush exuberantly over their respective heroes, always uttering that same word. “They were so awesome!” “It was the most awesome game I’ve ever seen!” “That Tom Brady is sooooo awesome!!”

 Jesus H.

 It is too bad, as there are so many other worthy words out there that can substitute for this misused and ubiquitous adjective. What about astonishing? Or majestic? How about amazing, breathtaking, wondrous, grand, striking, or stupefying? Just a few wonderful words that can replace the much besmirched ‘awesome’.

 Those who wax rhapsodic over their vicarious pop and sporting gods’, please do pause and cogitate prior to emitting that sullied and tarnished but once marvelous and fabulous word.

 Come February 5th, enjoy the inspiring Superbowl.

 Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.

‘Ad’ Nauseum

Every morning, arising from a pleasant slumber, I venture into the kitchen to start our Keurig, a fine Christmas gift indeed.

I then pad into the living room, performing the morning ritual of plugging in the TV (you have to keep an eye on that pesky vampire power…), turn on a light or two, and listen to what is supposed to be the news. As the TV chatters on, I shuffle back into the kitchen and pour the first of many cups of joe.

But one does not really hear the news, do they? I mean, isn’t there a war or two going on in the world, theatres of mayhem and misery that can possibly be reported on?

But no. Instead, one is treated to a steady stream of advertisements, either the fabulous attributes spewed from a multitude of furniture companies, or an endless stream of car commercials with a bevy of braying blowhards. And then once the ‘news’ begins, it is relegated mostly to sports.

Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that there are many people out there who do not give a rodent’s buttocks over the latest score, or their advance in the standings, of whatever local team just happens to be in the playoffs. Here, I’ll give you an example.

Yes, I live in New England. Yes, the Patriots are the home team. I know that. But I certainly do not need to hear about them 24/7, every goddamn waking moment.

I know, to you rabid sports fans out there, that is tantamount to being sacrilegious. (Please see the above comment about a rat’s hindquarters…)

And yes, said beloved Patriots did win today, and will now advance into the Superbowl, and that is indeed wonderful news. But now…but now it will be even worse, the constant onslaught of Patriot fervor, of tight ends and mustaches, and listening to more commercials that bow in sycophantic fashion to this hallowed franchise, ‘ad’ infinitum.

Jesus, for once I’d just like to hear the news, something besides endless sports and endless drivel uttered from plastic politicians.

I am quite certain that the military-industrial-financial-oil conglomerates are up to something these days, and I’d like to hear about it.

Go Pats. Rah.

Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.