LFS: The Storyteller

Who Wants to be on a Quiz Show? © 2010 by Lee Frederick Somerstein “Honey, do you want to be a millionaire?” She asked. “A million isn’t what it used to be,” I reply, “but it’s a good start.” So, she sends me the link. Which is why my alarm went off at four this morning and at 5:30, with a quad shot of espresso in hand,  I am #123 in line to audition for the TV game show “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.” The popular show was holding auditions in Seattle today. The doors open at 6 AM and at 7 we go in to take two trivia tests, one for general knowledge and one for a special Netflix promotion on movies. We were lined up outside the Bell Harbor Conference Center on Seattle’s touristy waterfront. A huge – and I mean HUGE – ship was sitting at the adjacent cruise terminal dock. It was like standing next to a skyscraper, with level after level of stateroom terraces looking out over the several hundred hopeful millionaires-to-be. With at least 90-minutes to kill, I take sto

©2010 by LeeZard When things get a little crazy, I go to the beach.  It usually calms me. Sometimes crazy follows me there.  Let's go to the beach! New Dawn of day To watch the sun, Rise out of the ocean, We awoke before dawn, And stumbled to the beach. We came with a bottle of wine, To toast the new day, A blanket to cover the sand, And a sleeping bag for warmth. We were four new friends, Ready to greet the morning. A gentle golden light, Creeps over the horizon, Darkness retreating in its path. The moon and morning star linger, To join us, To watch the sun, Rise out of the ocean. Our eyes focus east, As an orange pathway, leads to the sun. Bright light frames the clouds, As daytime, Moves closer to the beach. The ocean stirs, From its nighttime rest, As Sandpipers Begin to scurry about Little white, busy birds, Skittering one way then another. A lone seagull, Swoops down to the water, Seeking an early breakfast. It is peaceful, Quiet

Command Performance; Oily Edition © 2010 by LeeZard The phone rang the other morning and LeeZard was both shocked and elated to hear from a dear old friend. “There was an old blogger who lived on a lake, So busy he had no time to take. I waited and waited. My breath it was bated. So, I called to see if he’s awake.” “Mother Goose,” I almost shrieked, “it’s been too long. I’ve been meaning to call but I have been busy.” “I know and I forgive you, I do. “But things are getting so bad out there, I flew here on a wing and a prayer With the hope of writing a thing or two.” “In other words,” she concluded, “it’s the oily bird that’s getting screwed. Well, I couldn’t say no to my favorite guest columnist so, without further ado, take it away MG! --- Oil oil from state to state It’s turned the Gulf sticky. But I know BP will skate And that makes me feel icky. The oil companies stuck together, They thought any storm they could weather. But when BP’s well bled, It’s corporate pals f