The Democratic Debate in Haiku

Anderson Cooper

Is in a serious mood

His glasses say so

_______________________

The jumbotron set

Makes it look like a game show

Miss the big ass plane

________________________

Does CNN see

Their facebook logo placement?

Someone ****ed it up

_______________________

Cheryl Crow can sing

She even hit the high notes

(The tight pants might help)

________________________

I know it’s sexist

But I wore Hillary’s suit

When I was pregnant

______________________

I love you Bernie

But who pees in your cornflakes

Every damn morning?

______________________

Who is this Jim Webb

He was once my senator?

Uhm. Yes. I knew that.

_______________________

Martin O’Malley

Says that he fixed Baltimore

What about those O’s?

_______________________

Hey Lincoln Chafee

Nineteen seventy nine called

Want their yardsticks back

_____________________

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

Blah Blah Blah Working people

Democrat Intro

___________________

Bernie Sanders says

Congress speaks like Eskimos

Thousand words for “no”

____________________

Wedded to the polls?

Hillary asks for numbers

“I’ll get back to you”

______________________

Martin endorsed Hill

‘I’m allowed to change my mind

Just like you change yours’

______________________

Our first Trump mention

“I may be a barker but

I own the circus”

_______________________

Chafee asks for slack

We don’t care that your Dad died

If it was your dog…..

___________________

I don’t care about

Hillary’s emails either

Let’s all unsubscribe

___________________

And I still don’t know

Anything about Jim Web

But he can tell time

__________________

Hillary is asked

How she’ll differ from Barack

“Pee breaks take more time.”

____________________

This is so civil

There’s nothing to make fun of

I need more cowbell

_____________________

If O’Malley wins

I really hope he invades

New York’s Trump Tower

_______________________

What is Communist

Versus Social Democrat?

Putin bores Bernie

______________________

Jim Webb gets to speak

And what does he choose to say?

Yup. I killed a dude.

_______________________

Damn, I’ll never know

Which chick they’d put on the ten

Who will I vote for?

______________________

And Twitter weighs in

Martin won’t be president

But the man’s a DILF

______________________

Huckabee live tweets

And I trust him like I trust

His foot near his mouth

_______________________

That’s all I got folks

Until we get the next round

On the 28th

What emoji do you use when your kid hates college?


“Whoever said college was the best time of your life was lying.” — The Dude.

This was followed by the poop emoji.

How quickly things change. Just a few weeks ago, he couldn’t wait to leave. He was ready for college.

He is ready for college. He may have had a few unrealistic expectations, that’s all. Those unrealistic expectations will get you every time.

He has a nasty cold. I’d send him chicken soup if I could. He’d like that too, since he says the food sucks and isn’t very healthy. I’ve suggested vegetables and salads, but he isn’t taking advice at the moment. If there was a stone wall emoji, he’d use it.

Over nineteen years, we’ve made it through colic and croup, new math, buying a jockstrap, “Medieval Day”,The Iliad, Homecoming, driver’s ed, and the first and second transgressions that will not be named. I thought I was old hat at this, but when he’s unhappy, it twists me worse than a telephone cord (I had to use that analogy before it became irrelevant. I think I only had a few minutes left.)

He texts my husband about more mundane matters, like money. My husband says that’s a sign that it’s not so bad. I am parent A, the one that does out cookies and sympathy. Parent B tells the child that this is life, suck it up and soldier on.

So much of his life is going well. He has a terrific roommate, who he likes and gets along with. They were paired at random, so this was not a given. He’s playing intramural sports and has joined a couple of clubs. He’s even learning how to play golf. Classes, however are harder than he anticipated, and the old high school habits aren’t enough to get the grades he’s hoping for. My sage advice draws nothing more than a “maybe.” I have a feeling I know what emoji he’d use if he could find it, but he’s smart enough not to use it. I’m the one with the cookies and sympathy, after all.

His friends at other colleges have it so much better, he says. Life is one big party for them, and he has major FOMO. He doesn’t consider that they might be embellishing. “Why would they do that?” he says. He believes people are inherently truthful. Cute, isn’t it?

I tell him that I begged to transfer halfway through my first term and my counselor told me to hold tight and it would get better. I tell him that it did, and I stayed where I was. I knew it wouldn’t be any better somewhere else. It was not the time of my life, but it set me on the path I wanted to be on. There’s a lot to be said for not peaking too early.

He’s forgotten how long it takes to build friendships and how long it takes to feel at home somewhere new. He’s forgotten that he once said moving to Virginia, the place he so longs for, was the worst thing that ever happened to him. Patience is not his forte. Neither is perspective. After all, he is a nineteen year old. It’s exactly what he needs, though, along with some decongestant and a perhaps a box of pop tarts.

I text to ask how he’s doing and he answers “sick.” I suggest he visit the health center, but he’s “busy.” I won’t even bother suggesting he go to CVS. I tell him to go to Noodle and Co and get some chicken soup, and if he’s running a fever, by all means go to the health center. He texts back “How do I know if I’m running a fever?” I ask if he’s hot and achy. He answers “My dorm has no AC. I’m always hot and achy.”

I know this conversation could go on forever. He has made up his mind to be miserable, and there is nothing I can do to change it. I ask my husband if he’s heard anything from the Dude. My husband just laughs.

Overcome with motherly concern, I break down. I know it’s unhealthy, like a drug addiction. I do it less often than I did in the beginning, just after he left. I’m down to once or twice a day. I open the Find My Phone app to see where he is.

He’s playing golf. I guess that’s why he’s busy.

I send him a blowing kiss emoji and say I’ll check in later, then put together a gift package; decongestant, a thermometer, tissues and a box of pop-tarts. We’ll both make it through another day.

GOP Debate in Haiku

By popular demand…..

GOP Debate

Ten dudes, one chick, one handler

And one big ass plane

__________________________

With them all lined up

Looks like a beauty pageant

Trump owns this one too

__________________________

Carly’s not alone

Don thinks Rand is ugly too

Chris Christie you’re next

___________________________

To deal with Russia

Trump goes golfing with Putin

And shows his big balls

__________________________

We have a winner

Planned parenthood and Iran

Best non sequitur

__________________________

When the Donald speaks

He tells us what “we all know”

Even if we don’t

_________________________

I don’t remember

The Reagan years like they do

Which of us was high

____________________________

Marco Rubio

Sounds like a movie trailer

For disaster porn

_________________________

I wonder if Jeb

Swaps tales with Eli Manning

Little bro syndrome

___________________________

Senator Graham’s troops

Look bigger cause they’re metric

Need conversion chart

_____________________________

Jeb says he smoked pot

And now I like him better

I feel so dirty

______________________________

“We all look alike”

Fiorina shakes her head

Not from the waist down

______________________________

Let’s save our children

From Islamic terrorists

Ban science projects

_______________________________

Donald Trump believes

His code name would be “Humble”

My bet? “Combover”

_______________________________

Sex drugs rock n roll

GOP, just outlaw fun

And make it simple

_________________________

I’m three hours in

So our “official language”

Is all adjectives?

________________________

Is it my tv?

The Donald’s face is redder

Than Huckabee’s tie

________________________

Trump has more haiku

Than the other candidates

Just like his air time

__________________________

All the candidates

Compare themselves to Reagan

The big ass plane wins

Haiku News Review

GOP rallies

Should use classical music

Dead artists can’t sue

________________________

Donald Trump’s all heart

“We should help the refugees

Just send the ‘good ones’.”

________________________

Serena loses

Venus offers Lifesavers

“You got a whole roll?”

_______________________

Mike Huckabee thinks

Dred Scott’s the “law of the land”

Is that Common Core?

_______________________

Late Night cheers Biden

Funny, everyone likes him–

Now that he won’t run

_______________________

Redbook’s new cover

Featured true sized “real women”

And a workout plan

_______________________

Hillary, if you

Want to keep emails secret?

Teenage IT team

________________________

Fat-shaming people

Is your first amendment right

But you’re still a jerk

________________________

If a weatherman

Can pronounce that Welsh town name

Please say nu-cle-ar?

________________________

Rick Perry drops out

I wonder if Lenscrafters

Will give a refund

________________________

The Pittsburgh Steelers

Say the Patriots cheated

Football caucus race

Momaiku – The freshman drop off edition


How can this much stuff

All fit inside the Prius?

“Don’t open the doors”

_______________________

Sure you’ve got it all?

“What could I be missing, Mom?”

I’m sure we’ll find out

___________________________

“When you clean my room

Please don’t look under the bed.”

Wouldn’t dream of it

________________________

And the trunk closes

I can’t believe we did it

“Where am I sitting?”

_______________________

“When will we get there?”

At best, a 12 hour drive

“Just wake me for lunch.”

________________________

So here is your dorm

“It looked better in pictures.”

Most things in life do

_________________________

Don’t be afraid Dude

The RA will not tase you

Unless you earned it

__________________________

“You can hug me Mom.

I’m sure nobody’s watching.

It won’t hurt my cred.”

________________________

I don’t shed a tear

Until we’re all the way out

Of our parking space

________________________

“There are no parties.

This school sucks. I’m transferring.”

It’s been five hours

_________________________

Was today better?

“Yeah! I met a guy who knows a guy.”

LALA  can’t hear you

________________________

“I’m doing laundry!”

Separate your lights and darks.

“Yeah, whatever, Mom.”

________________________

“My tee shirts are pink!”

Washed your red sweatshirt, did you?

“How did you know that?”

__________________________

“The Wifi here sucks.”

Use the ethernet cable

“The whada whada?”

__________________________

“Forgot nail clippers

Can you Amazon Prime some?”

Can you CVS?

—————————————-

“My dorm room’s spotless.”

I’m sure your roommate thanks you

(I give it three weeks)

__________________________

I text, I love you

He texts “Please send me food.”

It means the same thing

_________________________

“Classes start Monday

I hope they don’t cramp my style.”

If they don’t, I will

______________________

“How do you and Dad

Manage without me around.”

We have lots of sex

________________________

“Very funny Mom.”

We cry from morning ’til night

(We have lots of sex)

_______________________

So that’s all I’ve got

Until I get the next text

Two, three hours, tops

The not-so-last supper with my college bound son

IMG_0460Dinner wasn’t how I imagined it. What ever is?

I’d planned multiple not-so-last suppers. These dinners would give us memories to sustain us until Thanksgiving, when the Dude would return, all collegiate and wise, asking for wine with dinner while discussing the Greek debt crisis.

If only he’d show up, they’d be great.

It was the day before the day before he’d head off to Indiana, but he had plans, maybe, or maybe not, or yes, but not sure when, or if they included dinner, and he’d let me know when it was settled. It wasn’t a surprise. We’d been dancing this tango all summer long.

By the time he’d figured out he needed dinner, it was too late to cook something and have it done in time for him to eat it. Shrugging off his overwhelming disappointment, he told us he was going to get carryout. My husband and I offered to take him somewhere, but that would risk us being seen together, so my husband offered to bring in dinner for all of us. The Dude liked it because it meant he didn’t have to pay for it. I liked it because it meant I didn’t have to cook. My husband said it would give the Dude more time to avoid packing.

“Why rush things,” said the Dude.

Despite heading off to college, the Dude has the eating habits of a toddler. One steak and cheese, no onions, no mushrooms, no peppers, no sauce. Only meat, cheese and bread.

Something this simple should not be hard to accomplish, yet when the Dude unwrapped his sandwich it was clear that the order was all wrong.

“I’m out of here. See you later.” We heard the rev of the engine, the thump of the base line, and with the opening and closing of the garage door, he was gone.

Beyond opening the wrapper, the Dude never touched his dinner. No amount of scraping or removal of the offending items could salvage the culinary travesty. The sandwich stared back at my husband and I, wondering what it had done wrong.

I took a deep inhale. My husband closed his eyes and snapped his plastic fork in two.

“May he fall in love with a vegan foodie,” I said. Nothing cuts the tension like a good joke. This one wasn’t good enough.

“He’s tone deaf to everyone else’s feelings.” My husband found a new fork. “He could have at least said thank you.”  He continued to vent. He took time he didn’t have to get take out he didn’t really want so he could share dinner with his son who couldn’t be bothered to stay and eat. “It’s a slap in the face.”

I have little sympathy for my husband. This happens to me almost every week with food that I actually prepare. But I didn’t bring that up because I know it wasn’t the real issue.

Knowing goodbye is coming is almost as hard as the actual goodbye. The Dude is pulling away because he is as afraid of missing us as we are of missing him, only we’re allowed to acknowledge it. He’s heading off to the best time of his life. Just because he’s ready to leave, however, doesn’t mean he has the emotional lexicon to do so gracefully.

We are dealing with the omnipresent “last”.  Our scuttled dinner was only the second to last, meaning we still had more, but only one more. We could pretend one more time that it’s just another dinner in a thousand dinners we’ve shared around our table, but this was the last time we could.

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” It was our own ritual of “last”;The Dude and I, both night owls, would stay up and watch television and talk, sharing foot space on the ottoman. Sometimes I made popcorn, sometimes he made pancakes.

“Dinner was uncool,” I said to the Dude as we both reached for the last few kernels in the bowl. He knew. He has a tell–a particular expression he wears when he’s already composed a response to the question he knows is coming.

His reasons sound so much like the ones his father dishes up. The workday was long, He had too much to do, and too little time. The weather was too hot, and the kids uncooperative. His friends can’t seem to make up their minds about plans, and change their minds too easily. He never asked for his Dad to get dinner, and then it was the wrong sandwich. It was all too much.

Goodbye is so hard.

“I’ll apologize to him tomorrow.”

The next day, while I was preparing dinner, the real, last dinner, my husband came home. He poured himself a scotch, and I told him I’d talked to the Dude about the prior evening.

“I have a few things I’d like to say.” I hoped my husband could find the emotional lexicon to get his point across while preserving our last “last”.

The Dude sidled up and shoulder checked him, and said, “Hey.”

My husband put him in a headlock.

All was forgiven. I went back to cooking dinner.

I guess he had all of the emotional lexicon he required, although it wasn’t the conversation I’d imagined.

What ever is.

It’s our fault. We taught them to share.

Eleven days left

Until I claim his bedroom

Paint the mother pink

_____________________

Not that I’m eager

Go ahead–count those chickens

What could happen now?

______________________

Damn, I had to ask

Mono outbreak in his squad

Grad party whiplash

______________________

Tracing through the snarl

Of who has hooked up with who

Dating duck, duck, goose

______________________

Rumors burn the wires

His prom date is patient zero

Glad he’s got no game

______________________

So the lesson, Dude?

Keep your tongue in your own mouth

Until you’re thirty

______________________

Can’t breathe easy yet

He and his sick best friend have

Shared “water bottles”

_______________________

Calculate backwash

From a “water” pong tourney

Twenty kids, two cups

______________________

Google Hail Mary

Can Fireball kill off germs?

It tastes like it can

______________________

The answer is no

But it makes good antifreeze

It tastes like that, too

_______________________

You haven’t had it?

Think of a bowl of Red Hots

Steeped in Jack Daniels

_______________________

“The symptoms?” he asked

I said, “You get real tired–

I’ve had it for years.”

_______________________

“I have to be fine

Welcome week is important!”

(It has the parties)

______________________

Sleeping in all day…

When teenagers have mono

Can you really tell?

______________________

So far he’s okay

Luckily the health center

Is next to his dorm