Sparks Ignites

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the White House the Impeachment Trial is looming for the lyin’, orange louse. Don Jr. is saying “No Quid Pro Quo” like the rest. Melania’s locked in her bedroom, telling everyone Be Best.
Ivanka’s stuffing stockings with her cheap knock-off shoes, while Rudy’s yelling Biden dirt, with his nose glowing from booze. Kelly Conway is stoking the flames of hate,  while Eric in his onesie hopes Santa’s not late.
When out on the South Lawn there arose such a clatter, the Secret Service rushed to see what was the matter. Taking proper precautions, safety’s always chancy, House Dems were on the grounds with their leader Nancy.
They held tight in their fists the Impeachment Articles – two, It’s Donnie’s gift for his behavior. The Constitutional thing to do.
“Come out of the Oval Office and surrender yourself. We know of your corruption from the whistleblower - Elf on the Shelf.” They yelled, shouted and called him by name. “Come out here crooked Trump. Admit to y…

New York, NY – Consumers spend billions of dollars every year to give themselves and others a Merry Christmas. Although the largest percentage of money is for gift giving, a substantial amount goes to decorations, food and other holiday-themed products.
Manufacturers have seen how the Pumpkin Spice craze has infiltrated the market during the Fall. Companies sell everything from cereal to shower gel featuring our favorite orange squash. 
Many manufacturers who lagged behind in featuring pumpkin products are making the foray into the profit-rich winter holiday season. 
Thomas Linebottom, President of the National Manufacturers Association reported, “The success of Hallmark holiday movies has made consumers eager to surround themselves with everything Christmas. Research has shown that any product with a holiday theme will increase profits by 75% and make us see silver and gold.”
The Association’s issued a list of new products aimed at making the season more festive. Look for the follow…

I don’t do well at airports. There’s complete system overload just to get from point A to B. My official travel preparation begins with dirty martinis and Xanax. I’ve diagnosed myself with Air Travel Hysteria.
As soon as I drag my suitcase to the check-in line, I question my decision to travel.  Why do I want to be propelled to 35,000 feet in an aluminum tube? I’m feeling extreme pressure already and I’m going to enter a pressurized cabin. I’ve seen coke cans spring a leak in better conditions. 
Oh God, will my luggage tip the scale like the Biggest Loser who’s binged on Twinkies? I cheer it on and smile proudly when it’s under the weight restriction. With a tear in my eye, I watch my new hard-shell beauty disappear into the black hole of baggage handling. 
Will it be there when I reach my destination? Images flash in my mind of me standing in LAX, while my lonely boxer briefs are circling the baggage carousel in Poughkeepsie.
When it does greet me, like a brave solider from battle, it’s …

Six weeks ago, I awoke to find myself stuck to my living room floor covered in pine sap and tinsel.  Two squirrels were giving me the stink eye and clutching their nuts. I felt shock and awe when I realized I’d ripped my neighbors pine tree out of their yard and brought it home to decorate. 
I’d never sleep walked before, so a major concern was my neighbors would follow the trail of dirt from the hole in their garden to the front door of my house.
Several nights later, I was startled awake by the smoke alarm blaring. My head was stuck in a mixing bowl of cookie dough and there was an oven mitt on my foot. Evidently, I was baking cookies in my sleep and a timer was not part of my stupor. 
With singed eyebrows, I doused the fire and threw out the charcoal briquettes I’d lovingly baked. Over a mug of hot chocolate and sixteen sugar cookies, I put on my Nancy Drew thinking cap and tried to figure out what was happening. My Christmas mojo was in extreme overdrive. 
“I’m holiday unhinged,” I to…

I, Lady Colleen Cadbury, being of reasonably sound mind and more than ample body, do declare this is my last will and testament. At the time of my demise, I bequeath my possessions to the Spittleworth Home for Village Idiots –– where my son, Jack, will most likely end up. That is, if he isn’t crushed or eaten by Big Betty, widow of the late Beanstalk Giant.

What people fear the most after speaking in public and being trapped in an elevator with Harvey Weinstein – is death. Tucked away in a compartment of our brain labeled “Denial” resides a black-robed figure waving a scythe. We know who it is, but we’re just not comfortable waving back.
The acknowledgement is too uncomfortable. Let’s avoid any reference until we are forced by circumstances we can’t avoid. We all know the words are Dead, Death or Die. There is such a tremendous fear we skirt around the topic using phrases that don’t mention the three “D’s.”.
If we don’t utter the words it won’t deliver the real impact. Sweeten the bitterness of it all with a clever expression. An innocuous comment and we remove mental images of corpses and coffins. They’re not “DEAD,” they’re just not here anymore.
We’ve all heard them, and used a few. It sounds so final and tragic to say “dad is dead” rather than “dad has departed.” What’s so bad about dad taking a lengthy trip. Bon Voyage daddy, but rem…