Monday, February 22, 2010


That does not explain everything.

Everything "ette". Vinegar + "ette" and incarceration + "ette" and Deity plus "ette". The problem of everyone, in a scandal, having a spokesperson. Suddenly, there are some tall, sturdy Swedes telling us that other tall, sturdy Swedes have nothing to say. Spokespeople is a shovel-ready project. Why not dedicate stimulus funds, thus, to hundreds, if not thousands, of spokespeople. It could be the President's way of including his adversaries in the national dialogue, by way of expanding their political vocabulary. Instead of being "The Party of No" -- well, they could be "The Party of No . . . Comment" if all voters had access to spokespeople. What you used to know about heavy cranes + "ette": No comment. Was that a rabbit or an elk + "ette": No comment. No, wait a minute. Was that, like, a vole, or a sourpuss, or a digdug kind of creature + "ette": No comment. See how that crab works? Chaw Sir, Chaucer, Saucer, Sauce Sir?

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


Your Stimulus Dollars in Action

Nothing says "I love you" more than nougat, except, maybe, nugget. Nougat or nugget, eh?, that's the rub. Which brings me to the problem of People with Elegant Wrists. They and their elegant wrists, they don't have to curse, they can't, really, in any event, curse, on account of their elegant wrists. One day, soon, it will be 8 / 9 / 10. That is, it will be August 9, 2010. There must be some -- finality -- on that day: A curtain raised and someone really peeved. "Ta Da!" even if the trick fails, the trick always fails, in real life. O, Big Old Water Tank. Why a Big Old Water Tank and not another form of liquid delivery? Some daredevil will always want to scale it, A., and B., someone will write an unfortunate Ode to His Hometown Water Tank. Will it say "Shibboleth?" it will say "Shibboleth." What can you do, but incorporate some peat humus into the topsoil? You will never be the same, thereafter, but the topsoil will always be the topsoil, just a bit more peat humussy, and awaiting, with some -- finality -- The Drought.

Thursday, February 11, 2010


I'll Never Go Back to Georgia

The problem of the chow chow, unleashed, in a summery rural lane. With no owner, apparently, nearby. And no people, for that matter, anywhere about. The problem of that chow chow, cocking his head, raising his tail, in that rural lane. In Georgia. He'd been clenching a softball in his jaws, and when I arrived, dropped it, slobbery, beaten by bats and gloves. The ball rolled off to the side and the chow chow cocked his head, a black dog with purple gums, its tail not passive, but raising like hackles. To know a dog's name is to know his combination and if you get one or two tries incorrect, unlike a safe -- which will just sit there, dumbly guarding its valuables -- the dog will grow and growl impatient. Or worse. Would nobody name a rottweiler "Rottweiler" or a shepherd "Shepherd" but a chow chow's second name is always "Chow Chow". And so the problem of the rural chow chow, unleashed, was solved. Even though I've never been in a country lane. In Georgia. It was Florida, instead, and the chow chow was a friend of mine.

Monday, February 1, 2010


Def Leppards.

What I'm saying is, there is a tree out there that not only bears the salami as fruit, but effectively hides the salami as part of its -- daily, monthly, annual -- ritual. A Hide the Salami Tree. O, can you imagine when people became people? It must've been, like, B.C. B.C., cuz, becuz that's when people still didn't know who they were, just yet. Some walked all the way up to Norway! There were savages running around in the hedge, painting themselves blue -- before they became the British. Another man held a snail, or a mushroom, up to his nose and he became a Frenchman. Suddenly there were all kinds of people, and the only logical thing to do was, heat lots of oil and pour it on each other. (This notion would go uncorrected for many centuries, until a band of traveling minstrels, Hard of Hearing Feline, or was it Def Leppard, would aver that one should pour sugar on [the other].) O, Deffen me!