State of the World Address from the Bottom Left-hand Corner

the black-jack dealer laments over a hi-ball:

“It’s depressing.
All day I see people lose their money.
I’m contributing.
I’m part of it.
I’m losing along with them.”

BSB

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garden party by the sea

The vessel moored and bobbing in the bay
With oscillating motion ripples light
As fingers tickling nature t’wards delight
And boat entices ocean into play
While waves of forest veiled in misty grey
Do blanket slopes, en-masking mountain’s might
No coat of trees could hide from mortal sight
Those earthen mounds that eons took to lay
A vista richly dressed in summer’s kiss
A portrait painted with eternal hand
So roughly tarnished by our festive meat
And barbie smoke and alcoholic piss
A feast to help us celebrate the land
While stomping on the goddess as we eat