Holding Poat – Bad Trip part ducks

that’s french you ignant bastards –

bad trip

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Car In D’art

I’ve got art and shit around my house, so if Chumpo is too busy  I’m happy to fill in.    I’m not really sure who did any of this stuff, but beggars can’t be choosers. So sit back and enjoy the show.

This first work my mom gave to me several years ago, and it was done by some local artist. Neat huh?

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Up next, this piece is on Inter-family loan to the O’Brien household from my mil. It’s some Japanese something or other.  It looks nice in the hallway.   THe picture is a tad blurry … whatever.  I think you can make out the relevant parts of this work.

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What do we have next? Ah yes. This is the piece I bought Pat from Chumpo’s older installments of Wire.    I finally got it framed. Looks nice, no?

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Moving right along, we now have on of my own works … a picture of the greatest dog ever. Greta. *wipes tear away. I know, I know. It’s crooked.  They make medications for OCD, you know …

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This is by a dude out of Toledo who does these statue things. I like ’em.

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This is a new piece to Gallery O’Brien  – just a funny little thing that makes me happy.  And it looks awesome in that spot.

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And finally, what post from me would not be complete w/o a picture of Moose?  WHo’s a good boy?  YOU ARE!

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I hope everyone has enjoyed a little peak into the high art to be found at my house.

Totally Bitchin’

The Eggplant:

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Crazy Cat Lady thinks I should keep it purple.  I think the Vikings are from Canada or something.  I’m sure they’re very good at squash.

IMG_20160604_182418Why is this mysterious stranger sitting on my car?

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Saturday Shakespearean Sonnet

Let’s just get this out of the way right upfront:

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Okay, now that we’ve dispensed with that, on to the poetry:

O, fake internet friends, how they slack off
When the long week’s toil is done and ended.
Whether they do Crossfit or just jack off,
The blog on weekends moulders, unamended.
Exceptions come, sometimes, from our Jimbro
Or if the Puppeh isn’t chasing tail.
But too often we are stuck in limbo
And Friday’s buxom freshness starts to fail.
I know well that all of you have lives
While weekends find me cloistered here at work.
But thirty-some hours on a poat is jive
Yeah, “jive” is weak; you write the next poem, jerk!
So ends my verse, now let comments commence,
And maybe push this down some hours hence.