Poems

Burn After Reading

63 Comments

Once I heard that some state officials in Florida have been cautioned against using the words “climate” and “change” right next to each other” in official documents, I felt inspired.

Not by the restriction, but by the way it appears to have been delivered.

Such a written rule would be subject to ridicule of course. But it appears this bit of language and thought control (if it exists), is being carried out as a matter of verbal-only policy making.

This is genius, and also a throwback.

For eons human beings have remembered complex stories and concepts through an oral tradition and the construction of elaborate rhymes. I was intrigued. How could you make it quick and memorable but also put it in a configuration that would enable you to  distribute the “rules” uniformly but without a trace?

I summoned Trail Babboon’s poet laureate, Schuyler Tyler Wyler, and instructed him to create a few lines of verse that would be capable of communicating such a language prohibition to legions of bureaucrats, paper-trail free.

I told him:

  • Verse one must ban the term “climate change”
  • Verse two must outlaw “global warming”
  • Verse three has to prohibit “greenhouse gasses”
  • The fourth verse must end with the word “irony”.

S.T.W. was unimpressed with the subject matter, but for ten dollars he got to work and was back within the hour:

It’s wrong to talk of “Climate Change”.
That phrase is now verboten.
These words, in tandem, don’t arrange.
It upsets them what’s votin’.

And “Global Warming” is taboo.
Because we do not buy it.
For thinking only, you’re free to.
But as for speaking? Quiet!

And likewise,”greenhouse gas” must pass
into the realm unspoken.
This rule must stay invisible
like air on which you’re chokin’.

These verses are not policy.
They’re a device, mnemonic,
to stop the floods. Y’all’ll see.
Effective and ironic!

What words or phrases would you like to ban?

News

The Tale of the Mail

37 Comments

Today’s post comes from 9th District Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing all the water surface area in the State of Minnesota.

Greetings Constituents,

Getting out ahead of the inevitable demands, I’m releasing all my e-mail to the public today.

In terms of the amount of text produced, I’m not nearly as prolific as the former Secretary of State, but I hope I’m in better political shape than she is by being more open more quickly.

Hillary released 55,000 pages. I think I’ve got about 235, total. That’s not a lot, until you start reading them. Then it feels like Moby Dick. Say what you will about the varied talents of politicians. Some have a literary gift, but there’s a reason I kiss babies for a living.

Anyway, anyone who wants to is fully entitled to read through everything I’ve written. I’ve got absolutely nothing to hide, and there are a few things I can’t find in the e-mails that I wish someone would locate for me.

  • The address of my second cousin in Minot. Aunt Sophie sent it to me about two years ago and I thought I put it in the “Relatives” folder but apparently not.
  • My Linked In password. I kept forgetting it so I got cagey and sent it to myself in an e-mail message that had no outward reference to Linked In. That’s the problem.
  • A recipe for making a Crock Pot chicken that looked so good I made a special effort to save it, but now all the chicken recipes I can find look incredibly boring. Was I dreaming?

Seriously, pore through the texts and give a shout if you find anything interesting. The better you know me, the more you’ll realize I’m just an ordinary, good-hearted guy who bumbles along from day to day and struggles to keep track of things.

Maybe not just exactly like you, but close enough for government work.

Your Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

Influential critics have demanded you turn over all your correspondence, electronic and otherwise. Will you?

Uncategorized

Ask Dr. Babooner

58 Comments

We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I was not at all surprised to learn yesterday that researchers have found evidence to support what we already know to be true about over-indulgent parents – that they turn their children into selfish, sniveling little narcissists by showering them with false praise.

My child is an adult now, but when she was in elementary school I was appalled at the way the other parents hovered over their young, pumping them up with unearned compliments for work that was mediocre at best.

For example, I was volunteering as a classroom helper in the third grade when my little Emily produced a vivid colored-pencil portrait of her art teacher. Because I firmly believed then, (as I do now), that we spoil our children by exaggerating their accomplishments, I simply told her it was “… the best thing I’d seen produced in the room that afternoon.”

That was an undeniably true statement. Of course it was MUCH better than that – she could produce college level work in terms of perspective, composition and shading – but by measuring it only against the art created by her classmates I was purposely downplaying Emily’s talent as a way to get her to try harder the next time.

Mere moments later, the other parent in the room held up her son Jimmy’s chaotic rendering of a bowl of fruit and declared in front of the entire room that it was a work of pure genius – worthy of the great European colored-pencil masters of the renaissance. We all nodded in support of this ludicrous claim so as not to embarrass this helicopter mommy and her incompetent, blotch-scrawling offspring, but really! Next to Emily’s splendid teacher-portrait, Jimmy’s fruit bowl was a ghastly mess.

I could see that Emily was confused, and for that matter so was Jimmy. To have his meager attempt at art praised over her superb accomplishment was confounding to everyone who could recognize the raw touch of a genuine master.

In other words, it baffled everyone.

Years later, Jimmy has become exactly the kind of self-indulgent adult I expected to see – a flamboyant do-gooder who is always drawing attention to his accomplishments by mentoring youngsters, caring for stray animals, raising money for social causes, and working as a paramedic and first-responder to save the lives of people who invariably turn around and praise him in exactly the same extravagant way his mother did all those years ago.

I would tell you how much better off Emily is, but she has instructed me to stop discussing her with other people, especially strangers. Which just shows you how modest and grounded she has become!

Dr. Babooner, why aren’t more people as good a parent as I am?

Sincerely,
Darn Impressive Parent of a Perfect Youth

I told D.I.P.P.Y. she has no real reason to gloat. Every parent believes he or she is doing it right and everybody else is wrong. And while I won’t say her techniques are completely sub-par, I do think she might benefit by staying focused on her own work rather than judging others.

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

Poems, Science

A Little Bend in the Light

30 Comments

I was trying to get my mind around the news that astronomers have observed multiple images of a supernova exploding by simply looking in the right place and understanding the strange effects of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, when the phone rang.

It was Trail Baboon poet laureate Schuyler Tyler Wyler calling to beg for a commission.

Things have been a bit tough in the poetry game of late, and what with large companies like General Mills and Target retrenching, the slogan and tagline market has dried up almost completely.

“Give me something complex to boil down into a few lines of verse,” he said. “I have to keep my toolkit sharp in case the discount clothing and packaged food industries bounce back and there’s a sudden need for fresh jingles.”

Of course I gave him the only thing I had – that a star exploding on the other side of the universe nine billion years ago has appeared in our sky at least four times, and it all makes perfect sense. I told him I would buy him a cup of coffee next Wednesday if he could make it rhyme.

Here’s his reply:

To see a Supernova pop
is not so hard to do.
Just float some denser galaxies
between the star and you.

Then get it properly aligned
Nine billion years ago,
to let dark matter intervene
so you can watch it blow.

The light from the explosion
has to go around each side.
So when you view the fireworks
you see it multiplied!

The images arrive distinct
and separate as they please.
A single Supernova that can say
cheese cheese cheese cheese.

What spectacle would you watch over and over and over and over?

Uncategorized

Early Risers

67 Comments

Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear that found a smart phone in the woods.

H’lo. Bart here.

Just took a look at the forecast and it’s sunshine and mild temperatures. Maybe in the ’50’s by the middle of next week! That sounds like a good enough reason to wake up now, rather than later. I mean, why lie around in your bed when the world is getting busy just outside your door?

I was hoping to get roused in February, but no such luck. I know there are some bears who won’t leave their dens until April, but I’m one who looks forward to the beginning of a new season. There’s so much to do, and being in a state of quiet repose for five months gets old. Yes, it sounds great in November, but in March I want to get all the trappings of hibernation behind me (out, fecal plug!) so I can start living!

And even though there are no wild berries yet, I’m a cheerful riser. One trick I learned – if you look at the ground underneath the deer stands first thing when you wake up – Doritos! All through the Fall those bored hunters sit there waiting for a shot, and the ones who snack out of foil bags create such a ruckus they never see a deer at all – therefore, they eat (and drop) even more chips!

If you can collect some before the thaw really hits, they’ve still got a little crunch! Ah, the simple pleasures …

Your pal,
Bart

What’s your favorite breakfast food?

Uncategorized

Death and Testing

76 Comments

Today’s post comes from Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty.

At ease, Civilians!

But while at ease, be sure to stay alert vis-à-vis the signs of an impending heart attack, which everyone should have tattooed on the backs of their eyelids so they don’t forget.

Now that I’ve said that, please also don’t get anything tattooed on the backs of your eyelids! The very idea is gross and dangerous, and you’ll lose sleep, which is unhealthy. I’m not sure why I said it, except that I figured it’s probably something nobody would ever do. My mistake.

I realize there are people who will do anything.

Which is why I’m here. I want to warn you against taking any easy tests that others claim will tell you how long you are going to live.

And yes, that includes the Sitting Rising Test. Especially that one.

If you haven’t seen it, the Sitting Rising Test scores your ability to go from a standing position to fully seated on the floor and then back to standing again. You lose points for using your arms to steady yourself and it also lowers your score if you happen to lose your balance anywhere along the way.

The lower your score, the sooner your toes will likely be permanently pointed skyward.

That’s bad enough! As a rule of thumb, you should never tell people they’re going to die, even though we all are aware that everybody is going to die! There is nothing useful that can come from it.  But when I saw this video of how the test is administered, I was astonished!

As a Bathtub Safety Officer, I must always consider FIRST how dangerous an activity might be IF performed in the bathtub, and I can tell you for certain this one is sure to leave the imprint of a faucet in your forehead.

Do not do the Sitting-Rising test in your tub or shower! There is too much bad footing and too many hard surfaces all around. Plus, the instructions are in Portuguese, which is disorienting. And I believe Rio is a very easy city to get mugged in, which is just another way to fall down and hit your head. In fact, I believe the whole sitting-rising test movement is just an elaborate scheme to get everyone winded and stretched out on the floor so our pockets can be picked.

Anyway, that’s what happened to me when I tried it, minus the pocket-picking part.

Instead, you can take my own trademarked Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty Longevity Test – it’s very accurate and quite simple because you only have to answer one question. Here it is:

Are you the sort of person who will do something because a lot of people are talking about it on the Internet?

If you said “Yes,” I’m fairly confident you’re going to die quite soon!

Yours in Safety,
BSOR

I took the Sitting-Rising test and almost fell down. Then I took the BSOR test and became so concerned, I’m shocked to have lived long enough to even tell you about it! But all of this is quite pointless, since I’m certain I would not want to know the date of my death. I have enough stuff cluttering my calendar as it is – adding a rendezvous with the Grim Reaper would really put a dent in my week. Not to mention the week after!

How do you keep track of your appointments?

Movies, News, Science

Overlapping Shadows

38 Comments

Time now for an occasional (OK, this is the second one, ever) feature of Trail Baboon – Connect Three.

Three current news stories share a common feature – in this case the linkage is anything but obscure – it’s a simple shadow.

The first one has to do with a particular portrait of Bill Clinton in the National Portrait Gallery. Artist Nelson Shanks says the canvas he painted of President Bill Clinton in 2006 includes the shadow of a blue dress, a reference to the famous Monica Lewinski garment which, having been smeared by Clinton himself, left a permanent stain on his presidency.

This, I suppose, is where being an artist trumps having political or financial muscle in that you get to make a lasting commentary. It’s not clear why Shanks would reveal this particular artistic choice right now. Perhaps it’s a bid to set his Clinton image apart from at least 54 others in the Portrait Gallery.

Ah, the Shanks Portrait. That’s the one with The Dress!

Credits: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA
Credits: ESA/Rosetta/MPS for OSIRIS Team MPS/UPD/LAM/IAA/SSO/INTA/UPM/DASP/IDA

Meanwhile, far out in space at the constantly moving intersection of comet science and human ingenuity, the Rosetta spacecraft has taken a picture of its own diffuse shadow on the surface of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. This news is getting enough play to suggest that we retain our ability to be amazed by simple things. Not only could we locate, chase down and go into orbit around a comet – we’re able to throw a little shade on one too. Fascinating. We are enthralled at any bit of evidence that hints at or own existence. Does this light make my butt look big?

And finally, Disney Characters shadowed shoppers in a mall in Massapequa, New York. I’ve been to Disney World and believe me, it’s just like this – you walk along minding your own business while a duck follows your every move just a step behind.

Close enough to reach into your pocket.

How are you as a mimic?

Poems

Seuss Deuce

80 Comments

Today is Dr. Seuss’s birthday, so in his honor I’ll recall one of the many times I’ve ripped him off by doing a weak parody of his timeless work.

In this case, the original act of larceny occurred in the summer of 2013 when New York City commuters were astonished to find dead shark riding a New York Subway.

This idea of a Straphanger Shark was, I thought, almost Seussian. The master, however, would have gone bigger – much bigger.

I realize now that I never finished that earlier version, so this time it has an ending, if not a moral.

We were heading for home on the subway one day
We were too tired to speak. There was nothing to say
It was Sally and me at the back of a train
that smelled fishy and dank, but we didn’t complain.
The car clattered and rattled and squeaked on its track.
The lights flickered a bit. It got bright and then black.
And then darker than pitch. Clearly something was wrong.
While the squeaking we’d heard transformed into a song.
“What’s that noise?” Sally shouted. The deafening trill
became loud as a whistle and two times as shrill.
And then all of it stopped – both the train and the sound!
When we got off the floor we both looked all around.
Peering deep in the tunnel – the source of the din –
we saw two giant eyeballs there, peering back in.
“Don’t be scared” said a voice. “I am harmless,” it joked.
“You’re too late,” I replied, for my trousers were soaked.
“I am sorry for that.” He was big. He was pale.
“You can just call me Moby. The Whale on the Rail.
“He should not be down here,” stammered Sally, to me.
“Because whales belong down in the depths of the sea.”
“That is true,” said the whale. His breath stank of dead fish.
“But as long as I’m here, we can do what you wish.”
“There are games for commuters and whales we can play.”
“If you have a sharp knife and a sea bass to flay.”
“We do not have a knife,” I replied, in a peep.
“That is not a good game. You go back to the deep.”
But the Whale on the Rail only blinked at us twice.
Then he said, “Maybe some other game would be nice.”
“How ’bout ‘Where’s Your Blowhole?’ he said. “That is fun.”
“Not for us,” shot back Sally. “Because we don’t have one.”
“So you think,” said the whale. At his voice, the car shook.
“But you always find one in the last place you look.”
“The conductor is coming,” I said. “Swim away.”
But the Whale only smiled. “I would much rather play.
At that moment, the subway door opened up wide,
and a grizzled man step-clumped his peg-leg inside.
The whale’s eyeballs grew bigger – as large as the moon
at the site of this man and his ten-foot harpoon.
As the beast turned to flee, the conductor’s remark
was succinct – “This is more than a simple dead shark.
It’s the demon I’ve chased for a decade or more!”
As he hurled his harpoon out the subway car door.
When that missile hit home the rope wriggled about,
and entangled his leg as it quickly played out.
“Call me Ahab”, he said, as the line became tight.
He shot into the dark and was soon out of sight.
But we heard him exclaim as he bounced down the rails,
“The New York City Subway – it’s no place for whales!”

 

Recommend a book you’ve read recently.

Uncategorized

Fixed in Space

31 Comments

Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden, forever in the 10th grade at Wendell Willkie High School.

Hey Mr. C.,
Some of my older teachers at Willkie were kind of broken up yesterday when they found out one of their favorite TV characters, Mr. Spock, had died. I think a few of them wanted to cancel school for the rest of the day ’cause they kinda felt like their youth was passing before their eyes.

Mr. Boozenporn seemed to be a little dizzy and weird. He sat at his desk texting friends and muttering “Live Long and Prosper”. While he did that, he made us watch this super-long geek-out video which is nothing but the same pointy-eared guy in funny clothes and a bad haircut saying his TV show lines for almost 15 minutes straight!

So while the video was running, I got out my phone and looked up this Leonard Nimoy character and found out he was really interesting and smart, but he spent pretty much his whole adult life stuck with this character that he played on TV for only 3 seasons and people wouldn’t let him put it behind him. That made me think about how long I’ve been stuck as a sophomore at Willkie and I felt like I understood him pretty good after that.

When he finally started to speak to us again, Mr. B said Spock was his idol. He said his friend Ron worshiped Captain Kirk but Kirk was an over-dramatic goofball whose impulses always got the Enterprise into trouble so dumb luck and Mr. Spock could get them out, and then Kirk got all the girls and the credit, which wasn’t fair.

Mr. B. said he identified with Spock because he was all about logic and science and he wasn’t emotional but people were drawn to him anyway, which was like getting a free pass ’cause you got loved but didn’t have to do any loving back.

Then he got teary-eyed and blurted out some stuff that sounded like apologies to somebody named Arlene. But I kinda think he should’ve apologized to Mr. Nimoy, too.

Your pal,
Bubby

Are you Spock, or Kirk?

Media, Music, Science, Songs

The Galaxy Hillbillies

31 Comments

The discovery of a gigantic black hole from the dawn of time has me feeling a bit like that small town boy who thought his world was pretty huge, until he found out about New York City.

We’re such small potatoes, universe-wise, the only way I can get my head around it is through the lens of the literature of my youth – TV show theme songs.

So these scientists was lookin’ at a big black hole,
though goin’ to visit wasn’t anybody’s goal.
The one that they found – was as wide as it was tall …
It made everyone feel impossibly small.

A massive hole. In vast space. Texas trench.

It was further away than a lot they’d seen before
It was large as the sun plus a dozen billion more.
They said “this is bigger than an older hole should be,”
An’ they added it all up to another mystery.

Dawn of time. Ancient gas. Quasars.

What’s the biggest city you visited as a youth, and what effect did it have on you?