Protocols for Bon-Bon Popping

There are protocols for almost everything you can think of:

how to behave on a first date, how to address royalty,

whether to fart in public or hold it in, the etiquette of blogging,

BUT WHAT are the protocols for bon-bon popping?

Over Xmas dinner the other night, we couldn’t decide when;

whether, as I thought, at the beginning of proceedings to start

the evening with a bang ; but my daughters were of the opinion

before the main meal but nonna shook her head, no, no, she proclaimed,

it must be after; we checked the box they came in, in the hope

that the protocols were printed there. Google was no help

nor the shop we bought them in. In the end they weren’t popped at all.

Oh well, we said. Let’s hope we can work it out by New Years’.

Enlightenment

I was sitting at Maccas

chomping

on a cheeseburger

reading

what the Buddha had to say

on Generosity:

how it benefits both the giver and receiver

when this aboriginal woman

came up to me and said,

have you got two dollars. For chips?

Sure, I said,

digging deep,

pulling out a coin I plonked

in her hand.

Gee thanks, she said,

It’s my birthday today. I’m 29.

Lucky you. I said. Have a good one

and go easy on those chips.

She beamed me a smile

big as Uluru

& I knew what the Buddha meant.

The Cutting Caption

M is in her cups.

Any moment now, the kookaburra cackle

the cutting off, like a hoon driver on the highway.

But for the time being I’m holding the table, telling the tale of the silver hammer beneath the front passenger seat of my car, what happens when my girlfriend spots it.

The little group leans forward, intent.

But it reminds M of something and she’s hyper now, jumps in, raucous.

This time I’m ready for her.

I took a photo today I’d like to show you. It’s for you, I say.

You did? Really?

Yes, I say, bringing it up on the screen, passing it across to her.

It’s what you do when you cut people off, how you make them feel. It’s kind of a metaphor.

She has a close look. Ouch,, she says. Lopped?

Yes, lopped.

Ambush

Whenever I come across you, you light me up.

You are

Helen of Troy,

Layla,

that host of golden daffodils Wordsworth came across in the field,

I drop everything,

reach for my ruler, my pen and underline you

firmly and lovingly with indelible pink:

you are the amazing phrase,

the freshest of images,

the startling sentence,

the delightful ambush hidden in my reading.

pic courtesy of Unsplash by Alexander Krivitskly

A New Path to Enlightenment

Matt has been hired by a plumbing company to sell toilets.  His old man who works for the same company got him the job. What could Matt do but accept? He was good at nothing else.

Larry, a hotshot salesman goes out with him one day and lays it on the line: “I don’t tolerate laziness. It’s a form of treason,” he says.

Matt says it’s not his fault he’s not pulling in big figures. He has no sales experience and no one is willing to train him.

Larry shoots back, “Baptism by fire.”

But Matt whines and says it’s been over a year and he still has no idea what he’s doing.

Then Larry comes back with this: “Your job is to go out there every day and get your face kicked in. It’s the only path to Enlightenment.”

 

I don’t know if Larry and the Buddha were talking about the same kind of Enlightenment and if they were would the Buddha have agreed with Larry’s method?

Is Larry right? Or can’t you find Enlightenment through the toilet trade?

Are some trades/professions more inimical to Enlightenment than others? Can a politician find Enlightenment? would it help him in his job?