Monthly Archives: June 2016

Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 316: ‘Summer’s First Pamper-Her-Friday’: ‘A Summer’s Romance’ Collection by Rg2 (80) Vol. V

Dinner by the cliff


“Summer’s First Pamper-Her-Friday”

Say, Lovely,

Now that LinkedIn is the social property of Microsoft . . .
Oh, you hadn’t heard? MS shelled out a cool $26 bil,
My prediction? Twitter is now in some titan’s sights
Growth at 140 characters is rather anemic if not nil

Why am I so confident in my foreshadow, you ask
What does this have to do with our summer’s romance?
Well, it’s the season of business mergers and acquisitions
and there’s nothing more profitable than info advanced

Acquiring knowledge before a business event occurs
potentially translates into a handsome budget surplus,
So I’ve scooped up a tranche of Twitter shares for you
The certificate to be delivered over dinner—at dusk

I’ve made arrangements for a private table cliffside
A calm breeze promises to massage your hair,
Over your shoulder will be an oceanscape backdrop
The ideal setting for our summertime secrets to bare

I’d like to know what strikes your intro-summer fancy
What would give this new season a memorable lift,
St. Lucia? St. Thomas? Perhaps Crusoe’s fabled isle?
Just name the locale, woman, I’m sparing all thrift

Perhaps you enjoy the feel of sand beneath your feet
Alongside a charmer who revels in a slow walk,
An unharmer who abides faithfully by the Romantic Oath:
Is there any harm in holding hands as we talk?

Easy does it, we’ll do it easy, I’m in the least bit o’ hurry
Summer love need not be engendered in a day,
A bevy of sunsets I’d like to share with you, woman
There’s many a tide to watch roll in and away

Ever done a twilight ice cream run, oh, what fun
with fruit nuggets and seasonal berries piled high,
And if you’re a good girl I just may offer you a lick
Uh oh, is that a mischievous twinkle in your eye?

Oh my, I forget, you’ve yet to see me in person
Well, I’ve been told mine resemble Obama’s ears,
Possessing an intellect, not surprisingly, on par
but whose romantic writings defy my years

Can I read some of the unpublished verse to you?
Each line was written with summertime in mind,
Our cliffside table awaits a romantic couple to enchant
with a cabernet varietal to help us unwind

Just the thought of you augurs a summer’s romance
The Twitter shares are yours, no cost to defray,
A season-opening gift to mark this special night
and no better moment than Pamper-Her-Friday.



Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®


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Posted by on June 24, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Romance by Rg2®: ‘A Father is Crowned!’. . . on a Special Day

LeBron "King" James . . . fathering like a champion

LeBron “King” James . . . fathering like a champion


“A Father is Crowned”

You wanna know the only thing better than being a newly crowned world champion, especially against all historical odds? . . .

. . . Being a dedicated, loving father.

Congratulations, big fella! You deserve it all.

And Happy Father’s Day, King James.



Every devoted father is a champion. -Rg2

© 2016 Romance by Rg2®



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Posted by on June 20, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 315: ‘Forever Her MVP,’ A Basketball Diary

Mrs. Savannah James & Her MVP: LeBron "The King" James

Mrs. Savannah James & Her MVP: LeBron “The King” James


“Forever Her MVP: Most Valuable Pamperer”

The woman loves her some LeBron
And can you blame the lovely Savannah?
After all, an anointed king is an exclusive thing
As a pour from the heavens like manna

Can you imagine what it must be like
to witness the stones hurled at his back,
“He ain’t Jordan . . . he can’t carry a team . . .”
While he remains calm under the attack

They voted Curry the ‘unanimous’ MVP
LeBron garnered not even one vote,
Mrs. Curry tweeted: ‘The game is rigged’
But what about Golden’s 3-to-1 series moat?

No team has come back from such a deficit
But says Mrs. James: ‘Baby, I believe in you’
Kinda like what Michelle told Barack in ’08
With a woman’s love, my, what a man can do

His failures have been public, most even laughed
Many eager to take pleasure in his demise,
Gosh, schadenfreude in the country’s run amok
But in the valley, he looks into his woman’s eyes:

‘Love, I’ve never cheated the game, my craft
God knows, I’ve never cheated you and the kids . . .’
Barack recently attended his daughter’s graduation
Criticisms of a man with integrity? He rids . . .

Himself of the outer noise, the constant blatter
A man of worth must stand firm within,
Let the seat-watchers revel in their own chatter
On his purposeful walk, the steps ascend

Above the rim, Savannah says, you belong
Just a little closer to your divine source,
‘Don’t forget about Akron, your roots,’ she reminds
And so a king committedly stays the course

Bearing the brunt of the naysayers and naydoers
Can test even the strongest man’s resolve,
But between the court and his woman lies sanctum
And if around family does a man’s life revolve . . .

He will win, even in loss, he will win
Endorsements aplenty, global fame or scorn,
Matters less than the heart of a champion
Atop a grounded man’s head a crown is worn

Does it not help to have a lovely queen beside?
Ask a king or even a president who knows,
Beyond his God-given talents a man needs
the love of a woman in his vessel it flows

Yeah, Mrs. James loves her some LeBron
For his MVP performance, his outstanding play,
She gave him a kiss and a hug for the ages
Victory’s ever so sweet on Pamper-Her-Friday!



Pamper the woman . . . and you will win, my friend. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®


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Posted by on June 17, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Romance by Rg2®: ‘Requiem for The Greatest’: A Spiritual Love Letter


Mrs. Odessa Grady Clay cradled by her son, The Greatest, Muhammad Ali: photo by Charles "Teenie" Harris

Mrs. Odessa Grady Clay cradled by her son, The Greatest, Muhammad Ali:  © Charles “Teenie” Harris


“Requiem for The Greatest”

Dear Heavenly Father,

I don’t have all the answers for what it is to be a man of God during this life’s journey I find myself trudging. What it is to be a purposeful man. What is the reason for my having been gifted the chance to walk this earth.

I can’t imagine a young Cassius Clay had the answers either.

But if there’s something I’m rather sure of, it’s this: When a young man loves his mother, there’s bounty in his possibility. When he truly respects and honors his mother, a young man is set upon a course laden with prospect. Who knows, greatness may even await him.

Only you, Father, know of those mortals among us who are preordained to a special calling. Predestined a rare courage summoned by a morality that somewhere lives in each of us.

A child of God cannot be owned.

Did an as-yet-evolved Muhammad Ali know this transformative declaration before his peers? I mean, did you give it to him at birth? At the Olympics? Or did you reveal it to him at that moment when someone told him the Viet Cong was his supposed mortal enemy?

I wonder if his mother, the beautiful Mrs. Clay, had something to do with his internalizing such a profound, liberating, if not dangerous-for-the-times belief.

You, Father, yes, you, sent Muhammad out into a wicked, unforgiving world with nothing more than inhuman handspeed, a wondrous jab, the sweetest footwork, a lion’s heart, a yeoman’s work ethic, an awe-inspiring poetic mind . . . and an unwavering conviction for righting wrong.

I bet his mother had something to do with it.

You, Father, yes, you, Heavenly Father, give us so seemingly little yet expect us to go forth into the world and do the humanly impossible.

I was mad at you, man. Yes, livid that you took his voice away. That beautiful, fluid, poetic voice, that had no equal, you silenced. Upset I was.

Until I realized the voice meant little next to the stance. Next to the actions a man takes at the risk of losing it all, losing everything . . . except his dignity and his foundation.

I bet Mrs. Clay had something to do with that.

I’m sorry, Father. For doubting you. For questioning your providence. You didn’t abandon Muhammad. You and Mrs. Clay lent him to us . . . to reveal to us what is humanly possible, for the betterment of humanity.

Do me a favor, would you? Give Mrs. Clay a kiss on her forehead for me and tell her thank you for the gift of her son.

And, as I bow, place your hand on my head and imbue me with an ounce, just an ounce, of that which you gave to Muhammad Ali.

I’m in need of your providence, Father, your mercy. I’ll find my way. And I’ll do all I can to not let you down.

Forever in your debt,



A stinger, a shuffler, a butterfly in flight; The sweetest scientist, the Greatest Ever, our Ali, goodnight. -Rg2

© 2016 Romance by Rg2®

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Posted by on June 10, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 314: ‘A Weekend with You’: ‘A Summer’s Romance’ Collection by Rg2 (79) Vol. V

Beach dinner


“A Weekend with You”

If you’re reading this love letter while at work
Would you please do so discreetly,
No need to give coworkers whisper bait
Especially a missive written so sweetly

Admit it, you’re bored as heck in the office
I gather there’s elsewhere you’d rather be,
Sax on the beach; a yacht jaunt to Baja?
Leave the grind, woman, and come go with me

Only five percent are doing what we love
Such a paltry sum enjoying our own labor,
So off-time fulfillment is more than a must
I’ve got a slate of events to gain your favor

An impulse idea for fun: A couple scratch-offs
A quirky buy on my stop near the corner store,
I’ve got a lucky coin I want you to use
If yours is a winner, I’ll raise it times four

That’s right: My treat, my buy and I’ll raise
Your stakes are potentially a quadruple perk,
And if it turns out your ticket isn’t a winner
My make-your-Friday-fun duty I won’t shirk

If my ticket happens to render a score
All the spoils I hereby pledge to you,
To do with it whatever is your delight
You’ve no expense on my watch, this woo

Is true that chivalry lives in the digital age
A delivery drone shall land at your doorstep,
Tickets to Alexander Hamilton on Broadway
Then Oracle Arena for Steph vs. ‘Bron–Yep, Yep

This pep in my Pamper-Her-Friday step?
Woman, is there any wonder you’re the source,
I meditate on you, there’s no contemplating you
I’ve been communicating signals like code Morse

Be they crystallized in this very letter, my heart
May it elicit a joy you derive from no other man,
Oh, and my scratcher? Well, I scored $500
And the hour of my pledge is now at hand

Stash it away as something of a good luck charm
Now let’s get to commencing our weekend play,
We’ll inaugurate this ours, the Summer of ’16
And what better moment than Pamper-Her-Friday



Pamper the woman . . . she likes to have fun. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on June 4, 2016 in Pamper-Her-Friday

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