Keep Tarzana Joe Conservative

The National Endowment for the Arts organized a conference call of "leading artists" and urged them to be part of the solution. These artists were, of course, those who had received grants from the NEA before and the unspoken suggestion was that if they wanted to keep getting paid for making sculptures out of meatballs, those meatball sculptures should support Cap and Trade and Health Care Reform. The call is seductive. I'm sure I could write an epic-ode-sonnett devoted to controlling carbon dioxide emissions. So please! Donate Fifty Cents to keep Tarzana Joe Conservative!

My latest podcast

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Why wasn't I asked????

Click on the title above to find out how The National Endowment for the Arts is about to become The Department of Propaganda. Let a thousand flowers wither!

Poetry Pod-Cast

I Would Shop at Whole Foods (if I could afford it)

I don't know John Mackey from Adam Sandler. He may have committed as many crimes as John Edwards. The last checker who swiped my Paypal at Whole Foods had more metal sticking out of her than the dart board at my local pub. But a man has a right to his opinions. The outcry of the t-shirt left to John MacKey's Wall Street op-ed on Health Reform is amazing, overdone, ridiculous, and misguided. I shop at Whole Foods when I am flush with cash...and that means rarely. However, I think I'm going to buy a chuck of Brie or a hunk of dark chocholate or a bottle of bacteria for my intestines from the good people at Whole Foods. It will cost me, but it's one line I want to cross.

No Second Cannae

The news this weekend is that the Democrat leadership is retreating from the "government option." Whenever I hear that a party with control of the House, Senate and Executive branch is retreating, I hear the name "Cannae" echo in my brain. It was at Cannae during the Second Punic War that the Carthaginian general Hannibal invented "rope-a-dope." He had the center of his battle line simulate a retreat. The eager Romans charged into the gap anticipating victory. Instead they were encircled by the Carthaginians and slaughtered. So beware when the clever and powerful retreat. Check your flanks.

And as I have called this post "No Second Cannae" I am also reminded of one of my favorite poems, "No Second Troy" by W.B. Yeats. I would have loved to meet her. But I would have checked my flanks.


WHY should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great.
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?

Utopia by Tarzana Joe

That notion, so delectable
That mankind is perfectible
Is once again respectable
And seems our current goal

We used to think divinity
Was out there past infinity
Perhaps in the vicinity
Of your immortal soul

But now we’re told perfection
For those who’re so inclined
Is nearer than it’s ever been
For it’s been redefined

We’re scolded to be perfect
By cries of the Incessants
We owe it to our neighbors
To use compact fluorescents

We owe this new utopia
To exercise for hours
We owe it to the planet
To all take shorter showers

Forget exploring oceans
Or some day visit Mars
The challenge of our lifetime
Is to all get hybrid cars

If we, in our obedience
Put out the selfish flame
We’ll turn our backs to heaven
And all will think the same

Is this the end of ice cream?
And vices that we treasure…
Is this the end of sparkling?
Is this the end of pleasure?

So down with your defiance
I recommend compliance
Join in the new alliance
And grasp the greater good

Forget what you’re pursuin’
It’s been your life’s undoin’
The past is but a ruin
See there, where it once stood.

Reflections on Knocked Up

By Tarzana Joe
6/1/07

When I was a lad
I lived scott-free
I only cared about myself
And me
And I spelled ego with a capital “E”
And quite possibly
With a capital “G”
O!
Woe is me!

Then came 19 hundred and 93
When I asked the little lady to marry me
She said, “We’ll see.’
Then, “I agree”
Somewhat passive-aggressively

Two years later she announced to me
We’ll soon be three
Which we proudly communicated to the family

Then in the mailbox
What do I see?
The only letter my dad ever sent to m

Congratulations
You’re about to give a new life our name
PS: Your life will never be the same.

Oh, father dear. How true! How true!
And how often I misunderestimated you
Had I appreciated the changes parenthood had in store
I would have started earlier and had six more!

Now I have a lad
And he lives scott-free
And you can’t believe the joy that he brings to me
And nothing I can think of could make it better
Well, at least, until I get to write him that letter.