In rented boots

When I die

I want to

have a

post-mortem photo

taken of me

for posterity,


just as they did

in the

Victorian Age


My family gathered around me …

everybody in great sorrow


Except, I want

the photo to be taken

at one of those

old-timey photo studios

like, they

have at the wharf,


That way,

if anybody

should ever


as to what had

become of me


my family

can tell them,


I died

back in the days of the Old West.


a = louie_Fotor2

all hail.


I shouldn’t have

lied during the

job interview.


I know that now.


Like when

I told them

I was an




and I lived under the sea


and I knew Excel


and I have twelve fingers,

… on each hand


But mostly,

I regret the Excel part


because that was

the one thing

they tested me on.

Turn it up

mean bone_Fotor



“She Hasn’t Got a Mean Bone”

written and performed

by George J. Raymond

copyright © 2023


She goes to church on Sunday

She goes to work on Monday

She does the very best she can


She loves her mother

She loves her father

Takes good care of her man


She hasn’t got a mean bone


If she ever got in trouble

it would surely pop her bubble


And it’s gonna break my heart

to watch her fall apart


Lies — she don’t tell ’em

Alibis — she don’t use ’em

She’s always true to herself


She sees the good in you

Ignores the bad in you

She gives everybody an even chance


She hasn’t got a mean bone.


Happy 81st Birthday, Dad!

The time-line

While going through some old boxes, looking for my kazoo, I found

the written record, taken by me, of an unfortunate

incident at my first rented flat in San Francisco in 1985


6 a.m.

House-mate awakens

feeling violently ill.


6:15 a.m.

Woken by his cries,

I immediately

fall back to sleep.


6:30 a.m.

Woken, again, by

his cries, I rush

to the kitchen,

and fix myself

a heaping burlap

satchel of waffles.


06:45 a.m.

I call the doctor.


07:30 a.m.

Doctor arrives,

rushes to

the kitchen,


fixes himself a

heaping burlap

satchel of waffles.


08:30 a.m.

Doctor goes to House-mate’s room.

Sends in a canary.


11:59 a.m.

Canary returns

with a renewed

sense of pride,

an olive branch,

and a

heaping burlap

satchel of waffles.


12:01 p.m.

Doctor administers medicine


12:02 p.m.

House-mate feels better


12:03 p.m.

House-mate dies.


12:30 p.m.

Doctor composes the Magic Flute


12:45 p.m.

Austrian Deluxe singer Falco records ‘Rock Me Amadeus’.


1:00 p.m.

George runs out of ideas for time-line bit.


1:03 p.m

George begins working on next bit.