PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

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President McVay

I’m aware from the chatta on many of the social media channels I tune into that the American people want a list of my priorities in case I were ever to become President of the United States. Also, how much time would I take off from the job for leisure activities or hobbies?

Would I get into macrame, for example? Or perhaps be a kegler?

Look, it’s really not safe for me to be bowling in my spare time. First, it’s indoors, so not great COVID-wise. Second, think of the security cost. They’d have to shut down the whole facility to protect me from my enemies.

And anyway, can you imagine if there is international crisis brewing and I’m spending time rolling balls down alleys?

Here is where I confess that, nevertheless, I’m inclined to continue brewing beer in my spare time. Because although American needs to get back to work, America needs a beer worse. So, in effect, I’m leading America by example: working hard, and drinking the beer I’ve spent time brewing right there in the White House.

In addition, I plan to create a social media app called “Chatta.” Stay tuned on that one.   

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Blown Away

On this blustery day of crazy winds in Boston, I find myself contemplating the B.S. that’s blowing a gale from the mouths of our Republican friends, who continue to bellow loudly of stolen elections. Do these friends believe we fell asleep amid all this wild and windy ruckus?

No chance. The howling winds have kept us awake and alert. We’re watching all the fast ones you’re trying to blow past us, and the umpires are watching as well, informing us that all those fastballs are way out of the strike zone.

In my dreams, the gusts that are about to knock down my house’s chimney (what the hell is going out there?!) blow into town and sweep away all the lies and nonsense that the opposition is attempting to build its comeback on, leaving us with nothing but facts.

And beer, of course. My homebrew is way too heavy to be carried away by even the mightiest of winds.

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The Unperturbed Juror

If I were a Senator in a presidential impeachment trial, I would try to look like a person who’s completely uninterested in the proceedings. Feet up, reading a book. Maybe opening bills and junk mail and separating the wheat from the chaff.

Did the Red Sox trade Andrew Benintendi?!

I haven’t smoked a cigarette in a couple of decades, but I’m suddenly emboldened. Maybe a cigarette on the end of a long, black, wooden holder. And I’m wearing a top hat or something.

If I had a toaster with me, this would be a great time to be making toast. I like my toast to be ever so, made of freshly baked bread so that toasting it brings out the yeasty aroma and creates hot craters for butter to melt into, with only the very ends of the puffed wheat actually browning.

How can I be expected to listen to a case of inciting an insurrection by a sitting president if I’m trying to make the perfect slice of toast?

Another thing I like to do during impeachment trials is learn how to tie a new knot. As a knot aficionado, having another knot in my arsenal can’t hurt. There is certain to come a time when the knots I’m currently able to tie don’t serve my purposes, and… shoot, is that a roll call? Wait, when are we supposed to be voting?!

…Oh, phew, ok false alarm!

Vote is later today. (Isn’t it?)

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Walking Tall

Over the years, I’ve heard a lot of crazy stuff (also called “crazy shit” by people whose blogs aren’t quite as decent as mine), but among the crazier stuff is that the latest and sexiest article of impeachment against old whatsisname (former president, heavy dude, blond-esque hair, golfs a lot – you know who I mean) is being “walked over” to the Senate from the House.

What the heck! If you stood up for justice and truth, like several politicians did, you can’t even walk yourself down the street these days, let along walk a document indicting the plump, red-hat wearing dude who incited an insurrection. Are the articles being walked over with armed military personnel protecting the brave person doing the walking, or is some page skipping along to grandmother’s house without protection from the wolves? If it’s me, I get on my bike and ride like holy hell, flipping the bird to would-be articles-of-impeachment-thieves.

Anyway, don’t they know that we keep copies?

Hang on. I have people jumping up and down and waving their arms to get my attention. OK now they’re making that circular motion with index fingers around their temples to indicate that I’m crazy.

Ha, well, it turns out that it’s walked over because both houses of congress are in the same building. Except, wait, that’s the Capitol building.

I still think we need a robust security detail walking this one over.

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Daily Haiku

 

Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  

 

College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.

 

Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not

 

I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car

 

My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not

 

It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means

 

Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes

 

Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees

 

Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning

 

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