Hot Chicks That Kick Ass

Copyright 2014  Mark Lee Golden  markleegolden123@gmail.com







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Collective Insecurity Hovers Over Flight 370

Copyright 2014 Mark Lee Golden  markleegolden123@gmail.com






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The Last Tattoo

Mark Lee Golden   ©2012    www.markleegolden123@gmail.com

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    Lance Arm not-so Strong

           Mark Lee Golden  © 2013  www.markleegolden123@gmail.com

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Animal Abuse Gone A Fowl

Mark Lee Golden Copyright 2015  markleegolden123@gmail.com


We are told terrible stories when we are but children. Morals are confused. Death is justice. Imaginative creatures rule beneath the waves. Above, in clouds, a Giant frolics. In thrones, kindly, plump, white-haired royalty sit. And standing over steaming, foul-smelling cauldrons, witches cackle and methodically stir. We read or listen as the world of make-believe is basted on to our childish fresh minds.

A duck that lays golden eggs! What a miracle. Or, was it a goose in that one? Oh, let’s stop and consider the players in that tale. Courage and poverty motivate a boy to pursue high danger. For his family he steals, which leads from bad to worse, ending in murder, shame, trickery, pride and hope. For the boy’s crimes he is hailed a hero. In his winnings is a goose, a female goose who has only known misuse.


Why I Wear a Kippa (Part Two)

  Mark Lee Golden   Copyright 2012    markleegolden123@gmail.com

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How To Hear the Voice of God

Mark Lee Golden   Copyright 2012    markleegolden123@gmail.com

Not only do totally crazy people claim that God speaks to them, totally sane people do too! Read how to save yourself

embarrassment, stay out of the evening news, win friends, and let God influence you!

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Why I Wear a Kippa

Mark Lee Golden   Copyright 2012    markleegolden123@gmail.com

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I Honk Therefore I Am

Mark Lee Golden   Copyright 2012    markleegolden123@gmail.com

“Tis better to have driven and honked, then to have driven and never honked at all!”

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Criminals in the Midst

Mark Lee Golden  Copyright 2013  markleegolden123@gmail.com


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Families Burning

Copyright 2014  Mark Lee Golden  markleegolden123@gmail.com



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To Blog or Not to Blog – That is the Question!

Mark Lee Golden   Copyright 2012     markleegolden123@gmail.com   


Blogging is the one of the side lotteries of our age. We have the traditional monetary lottery–one ticket could mean winning millions of dollars. Then we have the YouTube style lottery – post a video and it may go viral. Millions of views, not dollars. And the Blog lottery, like anything posted on the Web, a blog or excerpt from one, can get a person instant fame and or a swarm of embarrassment.

Blogs are what the Romans might have chiseled on marble walls. But we all know, high-speed, electric chisels didn't exist then. Graffiti's digital step-sister is blogging (and she can get ugly).

To blog or not to blog is the equivalent of shouting at the television, heckling the ref in a crowded arena, back-talking parents or a place to take poetry and throw cherished verses at the world.

At its heart, blogging is: an answer by anyone, to anyone, and maybe – just maybe, left unread by everyone!

The motivations of bloggers can be to answer when no one has asked them a question and to question when no one is asking for an answer.

Blogger's opinions are lit on the international stage by the spotlight of self. These are perpetually powered by a connection to the Internet. Otherwise we're back to typing letters on paper, needing envelopes and stamps. Oh, and the innocent mailman, too.

By stepping onto my own virtual center stage, I create problems for myself and others. By posting anything, I will attract fans and enemies. If I write too little, I will be admired and misunderstood. If I write too much, I will be admired and misunderstood further. The anonymity of the Web, allows for good and evil to flourish side by side, born along by mere clicks separating the pages. Public readability of graffiti is no longer limited to exterior walls done in the dark of night.

I blog, therefore I am.

Tomorrow, people can say of me, "He blogged, therefore he was!"




“I giggled all the way down your trail!”  Sally P.

“Original!” Jim V.

“The dog got off the leash!” Paul L.

“Thank you for the laughter.” Deborah C.

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What I’m about to write are the collected facts on an unusual date in history—Jewish history. Then I have a short, odd, personal account of my own connection to the day of fasting on Tisha B’Av 2015.

Tisha B’Av means “the ninth (day) of Av.” It’s the saddest day of the Jewish calendar and occurs in July or August on Western calendars.  

If the inventive comedic movie Groundhog Day had instead focused solely on Jewish tragedies it would have been titled Tisha B’Av Day. What follows here are interesting, though brief accounts of actual events happening on the same date in different centuries, plus religious responses to this mystical truth. If you are a Jew, Jew-friendly or a Jew-lover, you will sorrow. If you are a Jew-hater, you will laugh and shake your head in amusement. If you are simply a curious reader, you will wonder how this could be. Tisha B’Av primarily commemorates a list of catastrophes and what follows is an incomplete list. The fast mainly centers on the destruction of the two ancient and holy Temples in Jerusalem.

The First Temple, (Solomon’s) was destroyed on the ninth of Av, by the Babylonians in 586 B.C.E. Approximately 100,000 Jews were killed during the invasion. The remaining tribes in the southern kingdom were exiled to Babylon and Persia. The Second Temple (Herod’s), was destroyed by the Roman army in 70 C.E. Both on the same date, the ninth of Av, 655 years apart.


Tisha B’Av The Saddest Day on the Jewish Calendar

Mark Lee Golden  Copyright 2015  markleegolden123@gmail.com







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Blog #3   Mark Lee Golden  Copyright 2016  markleegolden123@gmail.com


A King Without Royalty: Why I Pray For Donald Trump

                                                                                                                                             

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Home Blog Ring of Torrents Samples NQR News Grumpy Disciple Current Events
Home Blog Ring of Torrents Samples NQR News Grumpy Disciple Current Events


Two Men Walked Into A Bar

Mark Lee Golden  Copyright 2016  markleegoldenwriter.com

Two men walked into a crowded bar. A flurry of snowflakes followed on that December evening. By shuffling steps, each man meandered toward the bar. Heads swiveled at the oddly dressed newcomers. One wore warm winter clothes and a furry hat; the other’s bland summery clothes seemed inadequate. Both had beards, one white, the other dark. Some would’ve called these two men ‘eye-catching.’

They parked themselves at a spot along the wide polished wood bar. Elbows anchored their weight. Feet found the brass railing near the floor; one boot and one sandal see-sawed. Each man glanced at the other with amusement and chuckled. Then at the same moment they said, “You’re really dressed like that!” This wasn’t a question. Grins shifted, curiosity took over their expressions. Yet, no other words accompanied the raised eyebrows.

The bartender asked what they wanted to drink. One finger rose. “A pint.” A glass, dark with Guinness, soon met his hand.

The other fellow caught the bartender’s eye and pointed to the Guinness. “Same!” That got a nod, and a glass slid his way. Lips plunged through the tan foamy head, and each took a strong sip. Both said, “Ahh, now that’s good.”

The light-clothed man unwound a narrow leather band to undo his ponytail and then shook his icy, wet hair free.

The white-bearded man turned to take in the noisy drinkers and tried to tune out the bleating Christmas music overhead. “I just got off work.”

“What do you do…dressed like that?”

The man’s hand went to the bottom of his large white beard and like a magic trick he pulled it down and let it spring back. Tilting his head, he winked, “Get it, chum? Holidays-schmol-ee-daze! I’m already sick of the non-stop holiday tunes―fah-lah-lah-lah and blah-blah-blah. North Pole, my ass. Employers and snowmen. Somebody stop this glittering tinsel insanity, please!” The little bell on the end of his cone-shaped, floppy cap, jingled as Santa’s agitation rose.

Amused, his impromptu companion lightly tugged on the white beard once or twice. “Fun. So, you wear a fake beard; part of your job? What of these bright red clothes, black belt and dangling cap? You’re hired to bring laughter and festivities to celebrations. If so, that’s really fine work, I’d say, hard, but fine indeed. You’re a special man, my friend.”

Santa asked his companion, looking him in the eye, “And you? Your robe? Sandals? No coat, hat, or gloves in this weather! Not even socks! I like the scarf, though. I bet you need somethin’ hot to slurp down and warm you up? Did yah just get off the bus? Where yah from, down south where it’s warm?”

The grin left the robed man and a serious face took hold. He peered down, squaring up his scarf making the white and blue fringes even―like he’d done countless times before. “Yes. Yes, where do I come from? Hmm.”

His new pal interrupted, “By the way, I got this round―you buy the next.” He clinked the other’s glass. “That time of year again, y’know. Love your neighbor. Do unto others and all that crap. Who dreamed all that up?” He shook his head.

The robed man stared. “Crap? That word has a certain finite solidity. Crap. A good word when rightly used.”

Santa replied, “Yeah. There’s too much crap in our little world. This season of the year is supposed to usher in a temporary blissful kinda spirit―which abruptly ends on January One. We are to forgive, forget, and go out of our way for all the slobs n’ idiots. Any ol’ idiot, whatever way, shape, or form.” He sipped his beer. “Tell me, my stranger, isn’t this just a wrong marriage of religion and credit cards? A romance that was never meant to be?” He groaned. “Oh! Wait! Wait! I’m doing my annual griping too soon. I haven’t even finished off one brewski. I can and do go on; let me tell yah. Sorry man. Maybe you’re into all of this holiday cheer stuff.”

The companion sipped and spoke. “You asked what I do and where I’m from. Fair ‘nough.”

Just then, a man slammed between the two of them into the bar, jostling them and their glasses. The man was gripping a longneck and his breath was a head turner. He spread his arms wide to embrace his two victims. In an obnoxious, expressive voice he sputtered, “Hey Santa, am I glad to see you! Hot damn. I got only one thing on my Good Boy wish list, and it’s a humdinger.”

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Not Quite Right News from Mark Golden

Mark Lee Golden Copyright 2017    markleegoldenwriter.com


The Holi-daze Are Coming!



While we are on the verge of Thanksgiving, Halloween is but a fading sweet memory. We see Christmas looming nearer and nearer (and that Jewish holiday). New Year’s Eve sits, waiting its turn. Stores start selling Halloween paraphernalia the day after July 4th Independence Day. Advertising, concerning Thanksgiving follows hard during the wee morning hours after Halloween. Valentine’s Day rears its pink and red pretty-bowed head mere hours after we’ve sobered up from crossing over to the newest New Year’s Day celebration.

Is this an American collage of festivities, a runaway train of celebrations? Or, a train wreck of obligations?

What was considered a joke in a keynote speech at the International Holiday Faire Convention in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, soon grew into a form similar to freshly mixed, hardening cement! The significant idea was to institute a “one year on, one year off” holiday regimen. The concept of actually finishing a workout, turning off the holiday treadmill and getting down off it with time to move on to something (anything) else, was very attractive to all ears. The idea of a “non-year-every-other-year” is really nothing new. Benjamin Franklin had scribbled notes into his journal in 1781 suggesting the same thing. He never proposed it to any colleagues of his, fearing he would be regarded as an “anti-religious and anti-patriotic” lunatic.

The sense of a year free from the bother of often dangerous travel, fancy foods to prepare, special dinnerware, table debates, leftovers to parcel out and consume, shopping in crowded stores, expenses for gifts, long distance phone calls and seeing certain people we just don’t like nor get along with…created a hush in the Holiday Faire Convention. What was meant as a whimsical jibe stirred a pandemonium of applause. The mix of vendors, merchants and everyday shoppers raised their beleaguered heads a little higher, exuding a loud “Yes!” Some said it was like a “universal plea” for the relief that an eventless twelve months would surely bring. The holi-daze would be kept in-check for the first time in modern history! The never meant to be taken seriously idea made its way to the local newspapers and onto the ever waiting, ever willing, always hungry Internet.

It was a mistaken grandiose vision of (perhaps) a better world; one with less stress, less preoccupation; one which created more productivity, and less spending! Rushing around would vanish―for a time. Lists of items that bring glory and allay fears would just be set away into a dresser drawer. The home would go on as usual without any decorative chores to be annually and repetitively done. Items in storage would have a thicker layer of dust. A collective heaving, a public sigh would ripple across the land as the first non-holiday date passed and the next one in line was seen on the “holiday-free” horizon.

If pursued, the legal issues would sadly take years in the courts. Changing calendars would not be much of an effort. Of course there would be those who would oppose such a “normal year–holiday year–normal year,” etc. When queried, store owners said that they might “enjoy the change” and were willing to accept the financial losses in lieu of rebounding the next holiday year’s spending spree. All kids, upon hearing of the idea, rejected it, perceiving no holiday gifts and many cried. Greeting card companies gave a loud sounding “Hrumpft!” promising to sue whoever would need the suing.

Yet, the enormous amount of extra time people would have could spark untold resources of creativity, inventions, explorations, or literature. A generation with holiday free-ness could do the unplanned, the unexpected and maybe the impossible!

What will Santa, Mrs. Claus and the elves do with their year off? Well, she looks forward to her husband’s weight loss due to not binging on cookies and milk. Mr. Claus confided that he’s gotta list of construction and hobby projects which he’s been unable to get to for nearly a century. Elves? They’re going to catch some of the football games, some will travel to the tropics, others said they’ll put their curvy pointed shoes away and binge on their favorite shows which they’ve saved on TiVo.



Another story from REAL LIFE (that I made up!) This parody news story is for amusement. Any similarity to real people, places or things is fictitious and not to be taken as fact.



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“Very Enjoyable. You boggle my mind!”  Deborah C. “Many Laughs.”  Robin W. “Hilarious!”  Leah N. “Funny.”  Joe A.

At The Lake

Mark Lee Golden  Copyright 2017  markleegoldenwriter.com


Darkness deepened. Cold winter breezes left before darkness fell. Light speckles of the starscape unfurled in slow motion. A crescent moon grew closer to the forested hills of the horizon. Two companions casually swam in the chilly water; neither had anything to say.

Unlike summer and other fair weather, the expanse of the lake was devoid of watercraft. Thankful for each other’s company, they also enjoyed the silence, without jet skis, speed boats, or trolling fishermen. The turtle, named Myrtle, and her small fish friend, Henry, meandered along close to the surface.

The two mariners drifted near a southern shore. Stately wooden lake cabins, side by side, exhibited large display windows. They suddenly heard happy children and the sounds of firm voiced supervising adults. The mariners’ curiosity caused them to swim and see the commotion. At the dock they stopped, raised their tiny heads, and listened.

A lively family gathered below a lake home. They arranged a variety of snack foods, hot drinks, blankets, and a small tree. A man lit a small movable fire pit. When the blaze started, the mariners backed up for fear of being sighted. Though, in time, the two moved closer as the humans busied themselves. Myrtle and Henry glanced at each other with stumped expressions.

The man and a woman gave instructions to the smaller humans. They opened several small boxes with a variety of glittering objects. Within one box lay two dozen white candles, several inches in height. Another box contained metallic candlestick holding pans with short cylinders to set the candles in. On the undersides were clasps to clamp the pans level onto narrow branches.

The man took hold of a six foot tall spruce tree he’d sawn from their hillside property. He grasped a hatchet. By the light of the fire pit he chopped off the bottommost limbs and twigs. At roughly eighteen inches he stopped, exposing a bare lower trunk. The man tossed the lose brush into the fire. Then he pried off a flat circular metal cap from the dock’s plank surface. He positioned the trunk down into the hole until the branches stopped it, and then he stood up to hold the top of the tree. Next, he pulled the tree out and set it near the holding hole. One of the children knelt down near the trunk.

“Yep! Its wet.”

“How much?”

The child showed the distance using his fingers.

“Good enough. Let’s snug her in.” The father and eldest child used brackets to secure the trunk through the dock and into the lake.

The mother watched until she decided it was vertical. She raised a hand. “That’s good, nice and straight.”

The tree had a new home and plenty of water to drink.

Immediately, one by one, the mother carefully handed the children items out of the boxes. In the flickering light work had begun. The two watery spectators glanced at each other and shook their heads in wonder. Each thought the same, “What are these humans doing?”

On the branches, children attached glittering orbs, sparkling figurines, and plastic candy canes. They argued over who could choose which ornaments, whose was theirs, and where to place them. The parents let them squabble while they secured the candlestick holders around the tree on the ends of sturdy branches. When done, they smiled.

The man reached out a hand. “I need candles!”

His wife handed him one candle after another. She then decided to add some herself.

The adults walked around the tree checking the ornaments. After nodding, the father announced, “And now to light our tree!” The children clapped and jumped. Even the unseen viewers swished their tails in anticipation.

A metal canister filled with long-reach fireplace matches was opened. Each child picked one and poked it into the fire pit until the head blazed. The parents gave simple instructions, explaining “Do it just like last year.” One child added, “Like every year.” A magical silence overtook the lighting activity. The father lit a taller, twisted candle secured at the top of the tree. When all of the candles glowed, each face reflected the wavering yellowish points engulfing a black wick. Bright-eyed, the family carefully stepped back and walked around the tree. They took photos of the wonderful, private, scene. One of the girls, with a face of glee pronounced, “Our family Christmas tradition!” The youngest child squealed, “For the special Jewish baby!”

 Myrtle and Henry looked up the nearby hillside to the home. In one of the broad triangular windows they noticed a similar, but taller tree. This tree seemed to revolve and displayed lights of various colors. A fancy dressed doll of a woman with wings and flowing white hair repeatedly waved one hand to no one.

“Who wants hot chocolate?” The kids crowded around their mom. Each received a cup. She handed a mug to her husband. In silence, the eyes of the two creatures glimmered.

After the drinks, the family sang a song. Smiling, each reached out for another’s hands until the little group ringed around the tree. The turtle and fish looked at each other pondering what this new activity meant.

When the song ended, silence followed. Before long, laughter and giggles filled the air. Eyes gleamed in the winterscape.

In time, the family walked up the wooden stairs and went indoors. Candles melted; the yielding wicks eventually stood above tiny, hot clear, puddles. Intrigued, the two creatures stared, and in their own way, grinned. They chose a new direction, dipped underwater and swam.

Darkness regained the dock.


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