Poets Day US

And I am not talking about the big commune of yurts where they keep the past winners. I am talking about what I like to (as of today) refer to as The American Idol complex pertaining as to how sometimes people need to be told the truth and often it is the people closest to them that fail in doing so. The only person who told the truth was that annoying English git in his tight V-neck shirts. The truth will set you free No, this is not a sermon from the mount but I often use that phrase. However, I do know that I am also guilty of not always telling the truth to avoid upsetting others but that is not what The American Idol complex is. Well what is it then? The American Idol complex (and trust me, I have played a Doctor on stage so I know what I am talking about) is where good meaning but badly executed praise is heaped on someone who should not have praise heaped on. It was amazing in the early episodes of American Idol how many tone deaf, talentless people turned up to

Why is it that in this modern day and age with portable electric telephones and letters being delivered through the cloud that we no longer bother to respond to messages when we receive them. We use so many tools to correspond I think we actually have forgotten how to communicate. If you are in a face-to-face conversation, or even communicating over the electric telephone you generally acknowledge someone’s statement or comment. It might just be with a smile or nod (not so effective when not face to face) or just saying ‘Roger that’. When I was growing up it was a pain in the ass to respond to a communiqué. You had to find the right kind of rock to make a tablet out of and the chiseling was a bitch, no way to erase a typo. Spell check was something witches did. As I got older we were able to use papyrus but still the postal system left a bit to be desired. Pheidippides Postal Services were just too damn slow, and anything further than 26.2 miles wouldn’t even get delivered. It wa

So I was pontificating on what I could write about for this Poets Day – I was going to post a link to an old post but then a friend commented on the book of faces that she had ‘that Poets Day itch’ (there is a cream for that by the way) and I thought why not throw some words down on the electric typewriter and see if they make any sense. So what the hell does a song from Casablanca have to do with Poets Day? Well nothing but those lyrics - to me - were perfect for todays theme which is all about applying subtext to comments and actions where (maybe) there was no subtext implied. I am pretty much a black or white person with some subtle (about 50) shades of grey thrown in :) Sometimes, however people will impose their own subtext or meaning to my comments and act or judge based on that subtext. They do not realize that they are condemning/judging me when they are actually the ones with the bias/issue. WTF am I talking about?  Well sometimes a kiss, is just a kiss.  Not that

So some have asked where did I come up with Poets Day – well I didn’t. It is an English thing; a little obscure but so are many English things, like their love of warm beer and dislike of dental hygiene. Let me take you back to where my version of it started here in North Carolina. It was a warm summers Friday (actually I have no clue what the weather was or the season) and I was pretending to be a Sales Engineer to help a buddy of mine, we will call him Tommy V, close a deal. On the way back from the home of the Demon Deacons I looked at the clock, and seeing it was about 1 hour from quitting time (which at the time was 5:30pm) I suggested that we not return to our place of employment, but rather stop at a nearby establishment for the consuming of alcoholic beverages. I believe my exact phrasing was ‘Fuck going back to work, it’s Poets Day, lets have a beer’ and thus Poets Day was brought to NC. Well I had to explain what is was first, but I think Tommy bought into the concept as