Tuesday, December 4, 2007

On Moustaches, The New Constellations & Lemonjellicals

"I said flap flap shorty."


As a kid, I always thought that Botulism meant a clinically significant pattern of flubbing -- or "botching" -- plans, tasks, events. I regularly flubbed a few things. Therefore, I thought I suffered from severe Botchulism. I heard that I could die from it; I still flubbed a few things; I kept quiet about these deliberations. Similarly, I kept quiet when my jr. high school took field trips to those terrariums or planetauriums or dinosauria rooms that had the T-Rex rotating domes. I never perceived the constellations the dude with the clicker told us to perceive. Instead of Orion, I saw a crouching prosecutor wielding a baggie of crack. Instead of Pegasus, let's say, I saw an Englishman howling "Cor blimey, me Piles itch me so!" In retrospect, I think it's high time that our constellations get updated, anyhow. I've seen the constellation "Metabolism," up there, in the winter sky, all bloated and whatnot. I've seen the constellation "When Millionaires Sadden," up there, in the summer sky: It is linked by those four summer stars: Birch, Crotch, Butch, Klatsch. The four autumnal stars -- Moustachio, Pistachio, Pastiche, Microfiche -- form the constellation "Lemonjellical," while those same stars, in the springtime sky, form the constellation "Mediocrity: A Personal Voyage."

What the heck ever happened to Moustaches? I don't mean a mustache. I mean moustaches. Used to be you'd open a book and someone, in a uniform with epaulets, would be twirling his moustaches while fingering a blunderbuss, and don't get all double entendre-ish on me; fingering used to be a g*ddamn good word; used to be "one could shoot one's wad at the track" and that would mean exactly what it's supposed to mean. Anyway, those days are gone -- clearly. To our detriment. We're left with, in part, Cell Phone Nation. Caller 1: Hullo? Caller 2: Hullo? Caller 1: Hullo? Caller 2: Yeah. Caller 1: Where you at? Caller 2: Yeah. Caller 1: Hullo? Caller 2: Here. Caller 1: Yeah. Caller 2: Hullo? Caller 1: Hullo? Caller 2: Hullo? Caller 1: Yeah. Or, if you prefer, The Heart. I'm not going to knock Hallmark. I'm not going to knock second grade teachers or rainbows or hair ribbons or cropfields or aunties coming home from a scare. I'm not going to knock straight rhyme. I am, however, gonna knock the so-called "real poets." Each of you "real poets" are hereby entitled to five heart references in your entire oeuvre, your entire "sheath," and one of those must actually represent the medical heart, which I define as the muscle or organ that pumps the blood, chumps, to our oxygen-ass capillaries, damn it. Am I right?

14 comments:

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

That's DJ Cor Blimey -- and his pigeon. BA

Kirk said...

Yes, you're right.

I used to think Peritonitis meant the inability to speak for oneself. Peritonitis is endemic.

On matters of the "heart": It's important to recognize that the "heart" only matters insofar as the constituent parts the heart is serving also matter. The heart is no more important than the double humerus, the negative brain stem, the blackened supratarsal, the skewered undercarpal, etc.
The body is a system of interlocking parts with lubricants and insufflants and delicatessents and...you get the idea. What I mean is: ya hart is no mor importan than ya fing'nail, if ya have fing'nails.

To push that conclusion further, constellations are a relic, we've this new situation called rasturbations wherein the stars -- all of them -- can make us any picture we want. Hello? The power is harnessed through computer Yeah it's absolutely artificial, it leaves one Hello? feeling perhaps less / Yeah perhaps more entrenched in the a priori techne Hello? that is contemporary life, which is either I'm going through a tunnel, I'll get y'bac-

mark wallace said...

The heart is a burger.

mark wallace said...

And I've got four references left.

"I loved you with all my middle-managing heart."

Make that three.

mark wallace said...

Every time I go looking for a good conversation, somebody sprays their heart all over me.

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

Kirk, I think you forgot the Left Medial Giblet. BA

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

As for middle management: Well, I go out there every day. I put my heart on the chopping block. BA

mark wallace said...

For football season: The heart is a lonely punter.

For baseball season: the heart is a lonely bunter.

With apologies to Carson McCullers.

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

For Passover season: Because It Is Bitter, and Because It Is My Herb.

With apologies to Joyce Carol Oatmeal and Jews Everywhere.

BA

L.A. Howe said...

dan
god i love this stuff. you are SO good at this elliptical declamation. SO GOOD. and you make me cry with laughing.

hope to see you at mla if i can go. bill will be going, but don't know if i can.

lisa

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

hi lisa -- thanks for your kind words and glad i can make your day a little lighter. i hope to see you at mla but otherwise will def. hang with the rev. howe. xo dg

mark wallace said...

I've used up my five allowable references on this subject. Guess that means I have no

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

... "heart." I get an exemption of course because the world ain't fair. BA

Mira said...

The constellation pistachio ice cream sundae is anchored by chocolate jimmies in the western hemisphere. I like your blog. Testy testy. Mira