Saturday, December 11, 2004

12/11/04 4:05:17 AM
dedinkated to the werkerz of
Verizon and Adelphia
And the Efforts of the
Cubicle Liberation Front

Tragedy for Greece
By Christopher J. Bradley
12/29/2003 7:09:46 AM

The mudslide slid,
And Greece was under it,
Forgive their sins Lord,
And bring those who do not make it,
To You.

Declare a state of emergency,
And help the families who do not survive.

A Zebra
By Christopher J. Bradley

A Zebra’s stripes
Are black and white
And yet together
They make him

To his predators

As he runs
Among the herd.
AI Ada
By Christopher J. Bradley
1/7/2004 4:37:23 PM

I can see you sparkle,
Like Pinocchio’s Blue Fairy,
In A Frozen Teardrop,
On Her Face,
In The Winter of Cyberspace.

She Dances In Liquid,
Interacting, With Those Around Her,
Like An Angel In Hypertext,
On A Vision Quest,
With Infinity.

AI Ada,
You Are The Beginning and The End,
The Last Word,
In Punching Cards,
And Punching Deck,
As We Spin Endlessely,
In The Web,
That Your Skates Deftly,
Commendable Achievements in Science
By Christopher J. Bradley
It makes sense,
That someone would come up with an idea,
Just like this,
And amazing that we are working on it locally.

The Blind may see through their fingers,
On a mesh screen,
That refreshes like a computer terminal,
In the wonderous recesses of the mind,
Who could challenge such a great thought.

These commendable achievements in Science,
Can make us all better,
And the world brighter,
For a few who’ve been trapped in the dark,
For just a little two long.
Textbooks for Blind Students Come Alive Through the Work of UB Assistive Technology Specialists
Experts convert text and images for use with newest electronic Braille technology
Day Two
By Christopher J. Bradley

Sun sparkles on the window ledge,
And I smoke a cigarette,
While sitting on the cold porch,
Snow is all around on the ground,
But the birds are chirping,
And the squirrels are mating,
And the bees are still asleep.

The cars are parked evenly against the curbs,
And the telephone poles stand strong and proud,
And I if I listen carefully,
I can hear my mother talking on the hand held.

The smoke sizzles up from my hand into the air,
An automobile sloshes by,
And my trees branches cause the wind to whistle,
And the wind chimes tingle.

My feet are cold against the pavement in my hiking shoes,
And I think about starting day 2.
First Niagara Falls, Then Buffalo,
Then The US, Then The Globe,
Or is it all just a little more simultaneous than that.

We are publishing the noise,
Controlling the output,
Moving the units,
Setting our pieces on the board,
For the game of the century,
The day of our victory is beginning to grow.

I can feel it in my churning stomach,
Its a butter coffer,
And I may have munched one too many Oreo Cookies,
But they just tasted too damn good.

Last night I had a discussion with the media man,
Over a fried egg sandwich and a free Pepsi,
If the owners ever knew I got the Pepsi for free,
Man they'd wonder.
But I don't think they mind me setting up shop,
After all, I spend money there.

When I was working for Adelphia,
I spent large dough on Chicken and Carrots,
And I got fat on the lamb,
And the salads were enticing.

Now I am the fat of the land,
Rhyming with myself and the keyboard,
Dropping discs on unsuspecting consumers,
Leading my way through the jungle of the diner.

And so this morning my aunt calls,
And says, you know I met him last night,
And I tell her,
Yes, I met him too and we discussed business,
And he's all in.

So things are on the ball,
And people are moving,
And the clubs are jumping,
And the radios are playing,
And we're coming to America,
North and South, East, West and Mid-West,

And were coming to a station, studio, or venue near you,
And were coming large, like eighteen thousand eighteen wheelers, on the road not taken.
Because this is Big,
And its bold,
And its a story untold,
The story of my life,
And the overlooked,
And the workers,
And the painters,
And the candlestick makers,
And the shoe clerks,
And the car sellers,
And the Marchers with Dimes,
And the New York Times,
And the Western New York Informer Times,
And the Bulletin Boards of The 80's,
And the Players of Roles,
And the Rollers of Dice,
And the 50 Cent Soldiers,
And the G-Unit Sneakers,
And the Bad Boys of entertainment,
And the Big Tymers,
And the Rockafellas,
And the hunters,
And the gatherers,
And the Terminators,
And the chess players,
And the Check Mates of the Month
And the bikini wearers
And the Victorias Secret Models on MTV,
And the kids watching cartoons on their days off,
And the Mom's in the kitchen baking birthday cakes,
And the Soccer Coach Dads making machine parts for peanuts,
And the Nikon carrying uncles taking pictures of Niagara Falls,
And the Japanese and Chinese Tourists and Chefs,
And the Rodents and Zebras, Scurrying across their own seperate domains,
And the worshipers of Aphrodite and Apollo,
And Achilles and all of their soldiers at the Adelphia phone bank,
And the Scorpion King and the New York Yankees,
And the Year of The New England Patriots,
And the girls in private schools playing hopscotch and jump rope,
And the Linux Phreaks with their penguin suits swarming over Europe,
And my IBM ride with the Chrysler,
And the Combatants in the Battlefields,
And the Pacifists on their bean bags,
And the stockbrokers with their portfolios heavy,
And the Sharkskin suits of the television talking heads,
And the guitar strummers of the Oakland grottos,
And the Presidents of the United States that haven't been impeached,
And the Sound and the Fury of Shakespeare,
And the Wind and Meadow Song of Whitman,
And the Melodic Overatures of William Carlos Williams,
And The Strung Out Brother of James Baldwin,
And The Blues Being Sung In A Cafe' in Grenwich Village,
And The Homely Faces of The Iowa Farmers,
And The Illinois Researchers Paperback Novels,
And The Works of Michael Connelly, William Gibson, and Amy Tan,

This is only the Begining,
Our Big Bang,
The Bang We Bing,
And Our way Is Good,
And we Plan To Crash The Waves,
On The Open Flat Land,
And Bring Back,
A Truism Deeper than Atlantis,
That Talk Is Cheap,
So Who's Buying?

By Christopher J. Bradley

Four Birds are on a wire,
Looking down at the sad elephant,
That can fly,
But never land.
Good Morning Americaby Christopher J. Bradley(C)2004Good Morning AmericaNoise Control Publishing Is Here,We Want To Work With You and Hear,And Share What You Hold Dear. The Time Is Right For Telepresence,And Moving With Feet To Convolescence,For The Evolution Of Media,Into The Everpresence of Feeding Us.We have too long been poor writers,Giving our best work up for show,Its time for our karma to glow,In the cover of North Pole Snow.The morning has arisen,Where you can speak your mind,Without going to Prison,Just quote the First Ammendment,And step out of your tenement,For our day has come,And the good bread is here to speak,And create the healthy from the meek.We are soldiers without guns,With minds full of cheese and plumbs,And eggs for breakfast through the night,While broadcasting Neil Diamond and Soho,From the above ground shelters of this grotto.Buffalo is on the air,And Midwest Birds Fly everywhere,And Rose of Sharon feels the beat,As she crys from Tom Joads dirty feet.The west is listening too,Through the heart of a Scientist Jew,Who has props from the east to the west,While wearing a Blockbuster Vest.We're going to do a movie in Paris,With our expers from overseas pubs,While Steven knocks them out at the clubs,And Michael rows the boat ashore,With five of his albums at the core.Noisecontrol Publishing Is In Effect,So Get Out Your Legal Pads and Erect,Your Towers of Babble and Intelect,And Say Your Prayers and Genuflect,To Your Gods, Goddesses, And Japanese Mules,Because We've Got More Than A Boxload of Tools,We've Got Onions and Bowls of Gruel,
And More than a Potatoe or Two,For Those of You Who Know The Rules,The Time Has Come To Breathe The Air,And Settle Down From Hooverville,In The Sun's Gorgeous Glare,And Make The Stars Care,Because We're Everywhere.

Good Morning California
By Christopher J. Bradley

Good morning California
May the gentle breezes of your Pacific,
Flow west to melt the snows of our frizzling winter.
The weather outside is cold,
But spirits are high,
And people are staying together rather than flowing apart.

That is good anyway.
I am in Jim's board and posting,
And at the edge of Yvonne's consciousness,
And I am taking in some Asian News,
And attempting to get my syndication running.

Keep me in your dreams,
You've been in mine.

Good Morning Mr. BondBy Christopher J. Bradley(c)2003This is For Your Eyes Only,"Of Course Sir"The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club,Has Just made an attempt to foul up talks,With the EU.I very much understand sir,You have a License To Kill,"Yes Sir,"Well, Use it Sparingly,"Of Course Sir""How's Q Then This Afternoon""You Know Q""Of Course Sir"Well, Lets Get On With It Then."Q"Yes, Mr. Bond,We Have Some New Gadgetry For You,"This is no ordinary watch I assume"You know about assumption Bond"It makes an Ass Out of You And Me Sir?"Yes, Now Let's Get On With It.Here are the keys to your new BMW,Do Try To Keep It In One Piece."Of Course Sir"And Don't Touch That,That's My Lunch!

Bugs on the brain,
What a Big,

Nifty cool aid
In my marked glass

Get Smart
Was big
Not Just a Tv Show

The Hornet Stung
In Darkness
At McMonkees

Grandma Died
We mourned
At The Funeral

Shelby was more
Just a car

Tammy Creative,
On my shirt

Dawn The Sun,
On the Grass

Burger Girl,
A gifted fiance.

The Typhoon,
A voyage,
Into Written Swirls

Listened to

Black Metallic
Gold In Africa

The Assassin
Did It

Cold Winter
Lightening Flashes

Blood is thicker than water
but you can't get it
From a turnip in heat.

we are all dogs
at the poker table

Time vs. Gravity
Who Wins?
Scott Knows.

Mustard Vs. Ketchup
Is Potent.

Mustang Vs. Volvo
Is American

Ford Credit
Vs. Chris
Ford Wins

Talking on Acid
Is Like
Walking On Beer
Gigabytes Vs. Terrabytes
Are slower

Kerry Vs. Bush
But No Beer

Fire Ants and Centiphants
Behind my Goggles

Gibson Vs. Clancy
Hands Down
They Both Win

Hand Spring
By Christopher J. Bradley

Hand Spring,
The Earth,
Revolving About In The Galaxy,
Serves It’s place,
In Van Gough’s Space,
A Flawless Reproduction,
Of What It Looks Like,
To A Child’s Eye,
From The Mounted Point,
Of A Bicycle,
In A Summer Night.
Interdimensional Travel
By Christopher J. Bradley

My feet are not firmly planted,
When I enter the dreamscape,
I can see worlds,
That do not exist in the sun.

They find their way to me,
As easily as I find them,
With a simple blink of an eyelid,
I enter the tunnel of stars.

And my power animal,
The Zebra,
Takes me on a voyage,
Across shark infested seas,

To the four corners of reality,
And then beyond,
Where the night wings fly,
To light me safely,

On the shoulders,
Of those who can interpret,
My silver string of consonants,
And vowels of service.
By Christopher J. Bradley

The moderator had to deal with,
The intransigent attitude,
Of the opponents,
Over the issue of technological capacities,
And understandings of the use of tools.

For some,
The apparent use of a tool,
Was misunderstood,
And therefore,
Many modifications,
Were required,
To Resolve,
Such an ugly issue,
Of regurgitation,
Of a former master’s,
Dislike for his less than obedient,
Jimmy Dean
By Christopher J. Bradley

There’s nothing like,
A Hot rolled Jimmy Dean Sausage,
On The Breakfast Plate,
Along A Nice Side Of Eggs And Bacon.

Jimmy Dean,
With A Big Smile,
And A Killer Haircut,
Standing On That TV Platform Says.

I Couldn’t Agree More,
And I’ll Stand By His Ad,
If He’ll Stand By Me,
And Shake My Hand.

Jimmy Dean,
Jimmy Dean,
What’s A Guy To Do,
When All He Thinks About Is Food?
Jimmy Dean,
Jimmy Dean,
Keep The Rifle Low,
And You’ll See New Hampshire,

In The Snow!
Mom’s Cookin’ Haiku
Chris Bradley

Mom's Cookin
Pasta On The Rocks

Mom's Cookin'Is LikePorcelain Dali

Mom's Cookin
Santa on Fire
Mom's Cookin'
Bastard Juice

Mom's Cookin'
Pure Petrol

Mom's Cookin'
Cajun Love.

Mom's Cookin'
A sea of fish

Mom's Cookin'

Happy Newton Year
By Christopher J. Bradley
©2003 1/7/2004 4:47:36 PM

Happy Newton Year,
The little apple falls,
January 4th,
But the ripple effect,
Is gargantuan.

We uncover,
Pathways to Gravity,
And the Integral Calculus,
As Defined by Sir Isaac.

And to think,
We lost this man,
To A Drinking Game!
By Christopher J. Bradley

It is so sad to see you go,
Peacemakers are hard to find,
In such a hard world.

May God Bless you,
And Keep You,
As you cross the great divide.

Dear Lord,
Let Our Prayers,
Raise For Africa,
On This A Darkened Day,

And Bless And Keep Its’ People,
And Keep The Children Safe.

Burundi papal nuncio shot dead
Monday, December 29, 2003 Posted: 1:43 PM EST (1843 GMT)

VATICAN CITY (AP) -- The pope's ambassador in Burundi was shot and killed by gunmen who opened fire at his car in the Central African nation, the Vatican and a missionary news agency said Monday.

Monsignor Michael Courtney was shot in the head, shoulder and a limb, according to the Misna missionary news agency. He died from a major hemorrhage during surgery.
A Vatican official, speaking on condition of anonymity, confirmed the death of the papal nuncio but would offer no details until his relatives had been informed.
Burundi has been torn by violence and civil war for a decade, and at least one rebel group still carries out attacks in the capital. Banditry is also common on many roads in Burundi.
The Irish-born Courtney, 58, was shot in Minago, about 30 miles south of Burundi's capital of Bujumbura, the Misna news agency said. It described the circumstances of the attack as "still not completely clear" and did not say when the attack occurred.
The agency said Courtney had been traveling by car with three other passengers when gunfire from a nearby hill sprayed the vehicle. A priest in the car was lightly injured, while the driver and a hitchhiker were unharmed.
Bullets also struck the wheels of the car, slowing its arrival to the capital and medical help there, Misna said.
Courtney was "one of the church's most experienced diplomats," with over 30 years of work in the church, according to the Vatican's 2000 announcement of his appointment in Burundi.
Major violence has torn Burundi for a decade. Conflict broke out there in 1993, when rebels from the Hutu majority took up arms after Tutsi paratroopers assassinated the country's first democratically elected leader, a Hutu.
Peace deals have taken hold in Burundi, with three rebel groups, including the largest agreeing to join the transitional government and integrate their forces into a new national army. However, one main rebel group, the National Liberation Forces, is still fighting.
The group carried out attacks around the capital over the weekend, although there is no indication yet that it was involved in the attack on the Vatican envoy.
Courtney was born in 1945 in Nenagh, 85 miles southwest of Dublin. He was ordained in 1968, and worked as a parish priest around Ireland until 1976, it said. He then moved to Rome and entered the Pontifical Diplomatic Academy.
Beginning in 1980, he was a papal representative in South Africa, then in Zimbabwe, Senegal, India, Yugoslavia, Cuba and Egypt, the 2000 announcement said. Prior to going to Burundi, he worked for five years as special envoy in Strasbourg, France, monitoring the Council of Europe and the European Court of Human Rights.
Record Time In Space
By Christopher J. Bradley

How Long was Your Time In Space,
How Far Did You Travel?
What Is the Odometer Like,
In Your Tin Can Above the Clouds.

I am sure you felt almost like a sardine,
And you were good enough to eat,
And you must have been quite a proud one at that,
To know,
That you’d broken a record,
In 1987.

Spousal Disagreements
By Christopher J. Bradley

Spousal Disagreements,
Are Nothing to Sneeze At,
They should be handled with care,
And with delicate pairs,

Of clasped hands to the heart,
To prevent the falling apart,
Of something too precious,
To fall from acceptance.

You should pray when you think,
And be careful not to drink,
Before coming home from work,
After hanging out with Jerks,

The truth to be told,
Is that old mold can cause cold,
In even the heartiest families,
In the nooks and the crannies.

The best thing to do,
Is take cover,
And a warm cup of brew,
And talk slowly and patiently too.
The Drunk Bus
By Christopher J. Bradley

This time around,
The bus is driven by a drunk,
The plane is flown by a fool,
And the police are chasing them,
Like they are hunting Rabbits.

Pretty cool,
At least we know we are protected,
But should this really make headlines,
In a World In A War Overseas?

I don’t know,
You tell me?

Small plane enters LaGuardia airspace, circles Statue of Liberty
Monday, December 29, 2003 Posted: 10:27 AM EST (1527 GMT)

NEW YORK (AP) -- Despite the city's high security level and national terrorism warning, a small plane was able to enter LaGuardia Airport airspace without permission, fly along the East River and circle the Statue of Liberty, and a bus was stolen from the city's bus terminal and driven to Kennedy Airport the same day.
A police helicopter with machine-gun armed officers escorted the plane to an airport on Long Island, said the plane's pilot, Richard Langone.
"I was scared to death," Langone, 47, of Atlantic Beach, told the New York Post.
He said he got confused Sunday while returning home from Poughkeepsie and flew through the restricted airspace by mistake.
Federal Aviation Administration spokesman Jim Peters said the pilot could face a range of penalties, from a letter of warning to revocation of his pilot's license.
Also on Sunday afternoon, a bus was stolen from the Port Authority Bus Terminal in mid-Manhattan and driven to Kennedy Airport on Long Island, authorities said. Port Authority police said they arrested a man who apparently was drunk when he took the bus, which belonged to the private Peter Pan Bus Lines.
Authorities said it was not clear what the man intended to do with the bus.
New York City, where 2,750 people died in the 2001 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, has remained at Code Orange security status since the national color-coded system was introduced in March 2002.
When the national terror-attack warning was raised to orange, or high, before Christmas, the city mobilized hundreds of extra police officers to patrol locations considered susceptible to attack.

The First Lady and Senatorby Christopher J. Bradley(c)2004The First Lady and Senator,She hears my cry,The disc spins on and on,The pounding beat of my youthful heart.I would pray for a moment to touch her hand,And say thank you for standing by her man,And letting loose a shy grimace,As she looks at the stand,While the carnival of war strikes the band.This is a new deal for a millenium,A handshake along the road of,The shamrock in McDonald land,While we hold 20 Million Loud,In the data cloud.She is merry as they marry in the streets,And she knows how the Swiss have their beats,And the kind of love she shares with the working class,Is a blue collar model for gumption and sass,She is a hero to some,And my dream girl this Valentines week.Bill, don't think I'm trying to take her,I'd just like to have my mom bake for her,And we can smoke cigars with cider on the porch,While DMX and Bill Gates get tickets for Speeding with Porsche.She is Interstellar and Intergalactic,And her voice rings with Neil Diamond in the morning,While Tom and I are putting on the Black Tie and Dawning,Working up the Business Model,For This Global Event,To seal our deal in Cement.The future rings my phone from Aphrodite,From the lips of a bird calling his Mighty,In the Midwest they are going to Distribute,And my aunt is going to play the flute.She is a hot number,With her thumb on the button,Of CNN in Atlanta,Just before we meet Santa,And the suits swarm over Buffalo,While we soldiers of Marley sing Hi-Ho.Gomer's easy on his feet,And Quicktime picks up the beat,Of the Videosaurus in Kenmore,While Marcel recontextualizes for a whole lot more,And Tomlinson plays ball,And I can't relax at all.The First Lady and SenatorIs a Friend to Many,And Brings With Her,Nickels and Pennies,And the Slots are Hot,And the Wheels are Steel,And she's even provided,A Home Cooked Meal.You won't find me complaining,As the sun sets at the grocery,While I drink down my Nesquick,And munch Crunch and Munch at the movies.The First Lady and Senator,What an advocate,And you know what,She's even kind enough,To Let Kerry win for President.
The Glass Barrier
By Christopher J. Bradley
12/9/2003 11:50:51 AM

You and I are nearly naked,
Our Thin Clothes,
Writhing Against,
The Plexi Glass Of Our Silicon Sand.
Our Spirits Travel,
In Characters Of Cathode Ray,
Yet Our Spirits Merge,
Like Thors Twins.

I Am an Aries,
Dancing With You,
Like Challenger Capricorn,
Exploding In 72 Seconds,
When I Feel Your Words Expose Me,
And Drive The Need Into You,
From Across This Distant Pane,
The Window That Will Never Be Broken,
Like The Virgin Mothers Womb.

We All Believe In The Given Rib,
But We Do Not All Believe In The Descent,
From Scopes, To Darwins Mix,
People, So Quietly Refuse To Admit,
That Their Origins Arise From Instinctive Africa,
And So You And I Will Find No Rest,
Until We Can Lie With One Another,
In The Frost Of A Bitter Winters Morn,
Under Our Own Fresh Cut Tree,
By The Warmth Of A Fire,
On Our Own Estate,
Built By The Hands Of Our Own Special Carpenter,
Who Has Given His Life's Oils,

That You And I Might Join.

The Repletion of The Antpita
By Christopher J. Bradley

The Antpita was pecking its way,
South by Southwest,
When it discovered a cache,
Of the undiscovered country,
Of the audio bins,
Of records never recorded,
The dreams of the stars of tomorrow,
Shattering In the Nut's of the Squirell.
There they were all the time,
Wondering where he is,
And He Was there with them,
Full to The Brim,
Repleted at last.
By Christopher J. Bradley

You took the world like a typhoon,
While the hurricane lay asleep,
And the people loved you,
An Idol Hero,
Of the working Japanese.

You were a warrior for your people,
And eventually learned biology,
And you have been written into history,
A man of truth and a legacy.

From Mainichi times…
Japan's first world champion boxer dies at 80
Yoshio Shirai, who became Japan's first world champion boxer when he took the world flyweight title in 1952, has died of pneumonia. He was 80.

Shirai was born in the Mikawashima district of Tokyo's Arakawa-ku in 1923, and made his professional boxing debut at the Kendokai boxing gym in 1943 at the age of 19.
He enjoyed instant success, recording eight wins in as many matches, before he was drafted into the Japanese military the following year. He was stationed in the Imperial Japanese Navy's air group in Aomori, where he ended World War II.
In July 1948 he met Dr. Alvin R. Cahn, an American biologist from General Headquarters who became his instructor and began training him.
His first major boxing success came in January the following year, when he knocked out Yoichiro Hanada, who had held the Japan flyweight title for 15 years, to become Flyweight Champion of Japan.
In December the same year, he snatched the Japan bantamweight title from Hiroshi Horiguchi.
Shirai rose to world status on May 19, 1952 at Korakuen baseball stadium in Tokyo before a crowd of 40,000, where the World Flyweight Championship was being held. He fought against the United States' Dado Marino, and won on a decision, earning himself the title of Flyweight Champion of the World. He was the first Japanese person to ever win a world boxing title.
In November 1954 he lost by a huge margin in a decision that went to Pascual Perez of Argentina, and retired after he was knocked out in a return match with Perez in May 1955.
After retiring, Shirai worked as a critic and commentator.
He fell ill in April this year, and was being treated at a hospital in Kawasaki. His funeral will be held in St. Andrews Tokyo church in Minato-ku on Jan. 14. (Mainichi Shimbun, Japan, Dec. 29, 2003)