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"Doing Absolutely Nothing For Almost 40 Years."

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The Holy Grail Press is dedicated to promoting work that standard publishers... you know, those with standards, might be reluctant to publish, which pretty much leaves poetry.  And let's face it:  No one publishes poetry.  So in the end, we’re left with a lot of free time.

 

 

Word of the Every So Often  

October 22, 2021

meshuggah:  (noun)  (Yiddish – pronounced:  mess-shu-gah)  a crazy fool.  The president, once again proving his critics wrong, showed that you can be a meshuggah even if you aren't Jewish.

 

What's New at the Press 

 

...What's Old at the Press 

Friday, October 22, 2021

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The Late Bird Gets the Latte 

9:32 am pdt 

Wednesday, October 20, 2021

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Condiment 

10:09 am pdt 

Why I Hate My Job:  Interview #149:  Advertising

I am the inventor of the extra large condom.  No kidding.  And I never even stepped in a laboratory.  I’m in marketing.  You see, the only thing different about an extra large condom and a regular old condom is the package.  But who’s not going to buy the extra large condoms?  You’re not going to complain when you realize there is no difference, if you ever notice at all.  I mean, who would you complain to?  And just exactly what are you complaining about?  That it ain’t as large as you thought it was?  Now there’s something I’d like to have come out in public court.  That might even make national news.  And once the ladies know what brand you’re using, you can’t go back.  We even charge more.  We get twenty cents more for a three pack.  I’ve been nominated for the Latex Award.  What?  Oh, I’m sorry.  I just thought this was for anybody.  I love my job.

9:22 am pdt 

Monday, October 18, 2021

Bury My Bones

There are certain days
when one does not want to dig graves;
they're cold, and wet, and gray,
when inside is just a better place to stay.

But there are certain bodies
that just will not wait
for better weather,
bodies with no names
and no relations
to make the final claims.

Down at the county morgue
Ed knew the body had been too long stored,
and there was no hope of the weather
ever becoming better.
And since no one was ever
going to put flowers on his plot,
who would ever know if this poor stiff
were buried or not?

So laid out on the slab,
Ed commenced to split
that poor unclaimed body into parts
small enough to fit inside
those plastic bags for the trash;
and when dragged up to the curb,
Ed went up to take his bath.

It could have been a tree in the wind slapping
that made the soft rapping
that sat Ed straight up in his bed.
He couldn't be sure.
It could have been footsteps
crossing the downstairs floor...

And it could have been the wind,
but then, Ed heard it again,
this time loud and clear,
calling out from the bottom of the stairs
with a voice that was more a moan,
"Ed! Ed! Bury my bones."

No! No! It couldn't be!
Ed didn't believe in such things.
It was indigestion
or a hallucination -
all part of a bad dream,
that would explain...
But the footsteps started up the stairs,
and Ed felt the hairs
on the back of his neck begin to rise,
as he heard once again that moan:
"Ed! Ed! Bury my bones."

Closer, closer to his door,
Ed heard the footsteps cross the floor.
Again and again he heard that moan:
"Ed! Ed! Bury my bones!"

There are certain things
that science cannot explain:
pyramids and tombs
and mummified remains -
And that half-dug grave in the county plot,
where was found the mutilated remains
of some poor sot,
and Ed,
both half-buried in the mud,
and both very, very dead.

8:04 am pdt 

Wednesday, October 13, 2021

That Joke

Many years ago, at the first school I ever taught at, I carpooled with two other teachers, a man and a woman – call them Gary and and Miss Corbell, both my age – young, novice teachers.  And we – mostly Gary and I – would tell jokes on occasion.  So one day I told what I still consider to be one of the funniest jokes ever – the "Sonofabitch Fish" joke. 

Two elderly priests were fishing, enjoying a peaceful day by an isolated lake.  After a bit, one of the priests – call him Father John – pulled in a fish and exclaimed, "What a magnificent sonofabitch!"  The other priest – call him Father Tom – was taken aback by Father John's language, but he said nothing.  Pretty soon, Father John pulled in another fish, this one even bigger than the first, and he exclaimed, "Aye!  Another big sonofabitch!"  And so Father Tom said to Father John (imagine a strong Irish accent), "Aye, Father John, though we may be far removed from the ears of man, we are never removed from the ears of God, and God finds such language offensive."  To which Father John replied, "Aye, Father Tom, think not that I would ever use such language unfounded, for I would never choose to offend the Lord.  But that is what the fish is called.  That is its given name.  It is a Sonofabitch Fish."  Father Tom was somewhat doubtful, but he kept his tongue.  When they got back to the church, Father Tom looked it up, and sure enough, the fish was really called a Sonofabitch Fish.  To say the least, he was relieved that Father John had not been cursing, and disappointed in himself for ever having doubted the good Father.

 

That night they had those fish for supper.  At that meal, fresh out of seminary, was a brand new priest.  It was the first time he had ever broken bread with either Father Tom or Father John.  Understandably, he was a bit nervous.  After the Blessing, Father Tom took a bite of his fish and exclaimed, "That is one delicious Sonofabitch!"  And then Father John, after taking a bite, replied, "Aye!  That is the best Sonofabitch I've ever eaten."  To which the new priest said, "You know, I think I'm going to like working with you motherfuckers."

 

Gary, who was driving, laughed so hard I feared we might not stay on the road.  Miss Corbell was offended.  Not just a little offended, but whole-heartedly offended.  And she told me so in no short order, and, further, that I was never to tell such inappropriate jokes in her presence ever again.   Because it was just not funny!

 

I apologized, but mostly, I wrote her off as being a humourless prude. 

 

I only worked at that school for a year, and after the Sonofabitch Fish joke, I rarely carpooled with Miss Corbell again.  And I sure as heck didn't tell her anymore jokes.  But that joke followed me for the rest of my career.  At almost every school I ever worked at, there was invariably somebody who would realize that I was the one who had told "that joke."  Educators I met at seminars, people I didn't even work with and had never met before, knew about "the joke."  In more than one interview I had to talk my way out of telling that joke – I had to sooth the interviewing principal or superintendent's fears that I would behave appropriately as a teacher.  That joke could very well be why I didn't get hired at any number of districts.  Had I not told that joke, my career could've – and probably would've – taken a very different path.  One joke.

 

Looking back on it all, if I had the chance to go back and not tell that joke, I'm fairly certain that I wouldn’t change a goddamned thing.

 

A Priest and a Rabbi had been fishing together for years.  One day, they invited the town's Baptist minister along.  They were sitting in a boat in the middle of a lake, all patiently waiting with their lines in the water, bobbers gently rocking, when the Rabbi says, "I think I'll go back to the car and get some more coffee."  So he gets out of the boat, walks across the water, gets the coffee, and returns, once again walking on water.  The Priest doesn't say a thing.  He doesn't even look up.  It was as if nothing unusual had happened.  The minister, understandably, was freaked.  But he kept his composure.  Pretty soon, the Priest says, "I don't know about you boys, but I'm ready for a sandwich."  And then he got out of the boat, walked across the water, and returned with the sandwiches, once again walking on water.  The minister is really freaking out now.  A Catholic and Jew has just walked on water.  The fate of the entire Protestant faith may very well be in his hands.  There was nothing to it.  He had to walk on the water, too.  So he says, "I just realized I forgot my favourite lure."  After which he stepped out of the boat, and "Whoosh!" – he goes under.  As the minister was splashing about in the lake, the Rabbi turned to the Priest and said, "Do you think we ought to tell the fool where the stumps are?"

9:59 am pdt 

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