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280 Dog Years


The Holy Grail Press is dedicated to promoting work that standard publishers... you know, those with standards, might be reluctant to publish, which pretty much leaves poetry.  And let's face it:  No one publishes poetry.  So in the end, we’re left with a lot of free time.



Word of the Every So Often  

May 27, 2022

wonk:  (noun)  often used derogatorily, a person who takes a particularly specialized interest in the minute details of a field of study, especially with politics.  You want to know about the influence of Russian immigrants on the passage of the infrastructure bill?  Then just ask Bill, he's our resident wonk.


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Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Being Politically Correct

An Open Letter by the Honorable Senator Leonard K. Bullfinch (Indep., at-large)

My Fellow Americans and Constituents:

Quite frankly, I'm fed up with being politically correct.  I'm tired of always having to worry that I've suddenly offended somebody just because I'm talking like I always have.  Why, just the other day I heard somebody say that we shouldn't say "manhole" anymore.  I mean, ain't that what it is?  But they say, "No!"  They say we should call it a "people hole."  Why, that's just ridiculous, especially when we all know only men are going down there.

Being politically correct is more than an inconvenience, though.  Tragically more.  Let me tell you the story of a housewife, Lydia Taylor, from Muncie, Indiana.  Mother of two beautiful little ladies.  She was on a missionary trip to India, to teach those heathens the One True God, when she was eaten by a tiger.  That's right, a tiger!  The coolies had warned all the foreigners that a vicious animal had been spotted, but she paid no heed.  And let me tell you why:  It was because they said it was a maneater, so she thought she had nothing to worry about.  And them two little precious babies are left all but orphans.  I know there are some who'd say that story is actually a reason to be politically correct, but I say they're just missing the entire point.

Now before some so-called "fact checker" looks all that up to see if it's really true, it's not.  That's right, it never happened.  It was just something I made up.  But it could've happened, and it would've been just as tragic for them two little girls if it had've happened, and that's all that really matters.  After all, we should base our fears on what could happen, not what actually does.

And let me tell you!  I am absolutely sick of this whole "Black Lives Matter" thing.  Please, don't actually quote me.  It's not that I think the life of a Negro doesn't matter.  It's that I don't think anybody's life matters – except for my own, which is probably why I find being politically correct so annoying to begin with.  And while we're on the subject of people who don't look like me, let me ask you this:  Do I really need to know if every Negro I happen to see is really African?  Or really American?  That's a lot to ask of anybody.

And nobody should have to ask anybody what kind of sex they are, or what kind of sex they would enjoy.  Now don't get me wrong.  These poor people can't help the way they are – none of them can.  All I'm asking for is a way to tell without ever having to get to know them.  I suggest an armband.  It's been proven effective, and it's versatile.

We could not only use those armbands for gender, but we could use them for religion, too.  That way we'd know not to say "Merry Christmas," because we could clearly see that they're not Christian.  That way there is no confusion.  And isn't that what being politically correct is all about?  Ending all uncertainty.  Why, just think about it!  If everybody were the same, then there would be no need to be politically correct at all.  I know that isn't possible now, but it's a goal that we can all work toward.

God Bless You All, or not, if that sort of thing offends you.

7:58 am pdt 

Sunday, October 14, 2018

4:13 pm pdt 

Wednesday, October 3, 2018


We are the Lemurites. We believe the only way to worship our creator is to shun the 
modern world and all its technology, so we live in trees, like our ancestors, the Lemurs. 
Nothing good has ever come form living on the ground. First comes fire, and the next 
thing you know, everybody's hitting each other over the head with sticks. So we stay in 
the trees. Life is easier, more simpler, that way. Of course, you can take it too far, like 
the Algeans. They think we never should've left the oceans. That's just nuts. 

3:58 pm pdt 

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