Cabbage Is A Curse Word, Right?

RDP Tuesday: Cabbage

A little rant, a little rave…

A few weeks ago I told an Anti Mask/Anti Vaxxer on Facebook  that I thought her comment was stupid.

I got sent to Facebook Jail- AGAIN.

I’m guessing it’s because I hurt the poster’s feelings.

Like I care. I just repost things on my blog. And if I want to talk to anyone I call so I’m still part of the ‘conversation and community ‘.


Eventually they  let me out…

Facebook and I have a history.

Once someone said I was a ‘libtard’ and I decided to respond.

I posted the reply below. They reported me, Facebook pulled my comment and then put it back.

Upon review,  I had not violated community standards after all.

I don’t know how they came to that conclusion. Facebook defies the laws of the known Universe.

Listen here you toe-eyed cabbage, I wasn’t born into this world so you could bang  out  insults from your limited vocabulary  and leave them  here in the comment section like a pile of dog poo festering away in the full heat of summer on a velvety well manicured lawn.

I hope you stub your toe in the dark and have to crawl back to your bedroom at 4:00 am in horrific pain after going to the kitchen for a midnight snack of Cheese Whiz and those crackers you emptied  from the basket on your table at Applebees only to find the cat  peed on the  crackers that  the roaches didn’t eat and your dog ate your stash of Twinkies.




Jerks On Wheels

Here in Seattle we have this program where you can hop on a bike and ride it around and when you’re done you leave it for someone else to use.

It’s a Greeny thing. Seattle is big on the Enviro Movement.

On Most mornings I see a gaggle of bikes parked in or around a handicapped parking space in a local business’s parking lot.

Why snag the Handicapped space? I don’t know- maybe the idea is if they don’t SEE  a handicapped person in need of the space, they can take it. You know, it’s like the idea if you close your eyes the world disappears until you open them again.

Even if they don’t jam their bike (s) into the handicapped space they park them next to the space next to the Handicapped Space,  which is a non- parking space because if you’re a handicapped person who needs to use the door on the passenger side of the car, having that room to navigate is essential.

It’s such a jerk thing to do.

So I guess I want to say, thanks for saving the planet. You’re awesome, please let me be first to kiss your Environment- First Ass.

But while you’re out there saving the world, just don’t be such a massive Dick about it, okay?

Out Of The Blue

Poetry, Day Six: Screen

You’re reading these words on a screen. Screens — comforting, addictive, inescapable — are everywhere, especially when we read and write (and blog). Today, write a poem about, against, or in homage to the screens in your life. Or write about some other kind of screen — for example, the one stretched across your window, or the piece of cloth on which movies are projected at the theater.


It chased me in my dreams

it chases me when I wake


              why do you follow me

              into the bathroom?


              why do you care what I eat

                                          what I wear

                                              what I think?

Are you a God?  A Devil? A Demon?

      You judge my harshly Facebook, you frown upon me, scold me

         When I chose to think

             for myself

                   or chose to be



               You ask when I sin

                       when I vote

                           when I’m good

                                      and when I’m bad.

                                          Did I fly a Rainbow flag?

                                             Did  I weep for the kittens

                                                left in a bag, on a road

                                                    all alone

                                                         defenseless in the cold?


                                                 Do you think you


                                 Santa Claus?

My Mom or my Dad?

                                           Because I  know you are not

                           I’m glad you’re not.

  You have

no passion

no Soul


in your cyberbones.


   I wish we could

pull your plug, cut  your cord

 live again






to the very end

of each and every day.


How can we turn you off, turn you away, live for the moment

 without looking down

without looking away.

We can live out of the blue.




without you


Bill Traylor

Bill Traylor