Poems

Anniversary Verse

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Calendar

When the significant date of an historic event arrives, all of our analog and digital media get together to transmit in a variety of ways what I’ve decided to call a Calendar Reactive Anniversary Pile On, or CRAPO.

That’s a bit coarse, I know. But like CRAPO is how I feel each time another somber reflection of past tragedy pops out of the entertainment/information gizmo I had turned to for a little weather or some sports scores.

So on a whim and to lighten the mood I commissioned Trail Baboon sing-song poet laureate Schuyler Tyler Wyler to write a ditty to relentless retrospectives.  Here’s his best effort:

This is The Day. Where Were You When?
Do you feel now like you did then?
On screens or paper, each device
demands you suffer through it twice.

Do you recall the words you said?
The thoughts you had? The things you read?
Devoted decades to delete it?
Write that down for me. I’ll tweet it!

Like planets orbiting a star
the worst news never goes too far.
It disappears a while and then
it comes around again, again.

I told STW he failed with this assignment because the mood is too heavy. He agreed and blamed it on this particular poetic form, which he said is too simplistic to have an official name. He’s decided to call it an Octosyllabic Triple Quadrain with a Hangnail for that one stubborn nine-syllable line in the second word clump. Not that it matters what we call it, but I heard once that dark things can feel less awful if we put a name on them.

Name something you’ve named.

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The Way The Wind Blows

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

Pandering to Paddlers.
Pandering to Paddlers.

Greetings, Constituents!

The first I want you to know about me is that I’m on your side – and that’s true no matter which side your side might be. I will always support the closely held opinions of We The People. And when I’m talking directly to you, I support the notions of You The Person.

Some hyper-critical pundits complain that this makes me inconsistent on the issues. Like that’s a bad thing. If I’m hard to pin down it’s because I’m consistently in favor of you, and you’re only human. But I want you to know you can rely on me anyway.

That’s why I’m not so sure we should celebrate the birthday today of famed opinion pollster George Gallup. Gallup was a decent enough fellow, I suppose, who thought prevailing public attitudes should be taken seriously in a democracy.

That’s good, I guess. But Gallup wanted to do scientific surveys to tabulate the opinions of large groups of people all at once, and I just want to deal with the notions of the person I’m talking to at the moment. That’s the way politics should be conducted, in my opinion – face to face. Whatever ridiculous thing you say, I’ll agree for as long as we’re together, no matter how pudding-headed it is.

When I go on to the next person, well, that’s a different matter.

So all this data telling us what vast numbers of people believe at any particular time is useless to me. Pollsters claim to be neutral, and nothing frustrates me more than neutrality, unless it’s fairness! The sad truth is, people’s responses can be guided by the way questions are asked, and outcomes can be determined by the selection of answers they’re allowed to give. You may think otherwise but we’re not standing next to each other right now, so I can afford to not pay any attention at all to what you think.

If I had my way, all public opinion polling would be illegal.

And so would fact-checking.

Your Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

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Coma Bear

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Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a smartphone in the woods.

Bart Blackberry2

Yo, Bart here.

It’s getting colder and pretty soon it’ll be time to hibernate. Can’t wait. Turning the lights out and going dormant for a while is a great feeling – something certain people should do. I look at a lot of social media on my phone so I know what I’m talking about.

Facebook for example. Lots of stuff going on there. Blah blah blah all the time – there’s no end to it. Makes me think good thoughts about being comatose.

So while I’m waiting to fall asleep I follow the news. Pretty cool that the people at Snapchat turned down a 3 billion dollar offer from Facebook. Rumor is they might be able to get 4 billion from somebody in China for a company run by a handful of people that doesn’t make a profit. And the main thing Snapchat does it that it gives people a way to take pictures that are guaranteed not to last very long. They disappear after a few seconds so the photographers won’t be embarrassed later.

Three billion dollars for a money-losing company that produces things that are designed not to last.

I got me thinking (I have a lot of time to think now that Bear Season is over), and I came up with an even newer form of temporary social media that also doesn’t make money – it’s called “ComaChat”. If you sign up for “ComaChat”, you can send detailed personal messages to someone who is in a coma (me). I will not really see it, and will then immediately forget that it came in and that I didn’t even look at it. It’s a totally safe way to say something so private you don’t really want anyone to know, but you have to say it anyway.

No statement or confession is wrong on ComaChat. You’ll feel better for having gotten it off your chest, and there are no consequences. Unless what you have to say is “I left our fully stocked meat freezer unlocked in a clearing in the woods, and here are the coordinates.”

There might be some fall out from that one. Or should I say “pig out”?

Your pal,
Bart

Can you keep a secret?

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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Dear Dr. Babooner,

I am appalled … APPALLED! … that more stores are making the decision to open on Thanksgiving Day.

dr_babooner

The sad fact is – a covetous frenzy has already swallowed the formerly peaceful time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Now now comes this terrible news that the disease has spread into Thanksgiving Day – the last major holiday we had that offered any shred of solemnity or respite from commercialism. Thanksgiving is a family day and it’s supposed to be spent WITH family, not in the company of depressed store clerks who were forced to leave THEIR families so they could put in a few hours earning the miserable pittance their chain-store masters pay them. What a travesty!

Having said that, I have to admit that I’d really love to get out of the house as soon as the meal is done.

I always spend the several days preceding T-Day as well as early Thanksgiving morning working like a woman possessed to get everything ready for the feast. I plan the meal, I cook the meal and I serve the meal. When it’s time to do the dishes, my (male, mostly) relatives sit back in the living room and groan and grouse like they’ve done something difficult by merely eating, while I and a few other females are left to clean up.

Getting an early jump on Christmas shopping and scoring some amazing deals is just the excuse I need to leave those slugs with the dirty dishes. And I have to admit it – going to the mall is a form of relaxation for me.

Dr. Babooner, I hate it that Christmas has invaded Thanksgiving. Would it be wrong to shop anyway?

Conflictedly,
Buyer’s Remorse in Advance.

I told BRIA that since she does all the necessary work to get the Thanksgiving meal on the table, she does not need an “excuse” to skip doing the dishes. The decision by several major retailers to open for business on Thanksgiving Day has put her in a terrible position. I told Bria she Must Not Shop on Thanksgiving Day, no matter how alluring the deals. But if a bargain materializes that is too good to pass up, she can send one of the groaning lugs from her living room with a fistful of cash. The chances are good that he hates shopping, and his loutish presence at the bargain bin mosh pit may cause the corporate gun-jumpers to reconsider their strategy.

And as an alternative, he might volunteer to clean up instead!

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

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Messed-Up Mascots

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Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden at Wendell Wilkie High School.

Hey Mr. C.,

I think it’s really cool that 700 people marched to the Metrodome the other night to protest the name of the National Football League team from Washington, D.C. The Vikings must have been kind of disappointed to see such a big crowd coming, only to find out they weren’t actually interested in tickets.

Me and my buddies have promised never to use the name of that Washington team again! We’re going to call them “The Washington Awkwards” from now on, ’cause that’s how it feels when we see their logo and all their uncomfortable-looking merchandise and stuff.

I hope they pick a new mascot soon.

WendellWillkie_edited-1

It makes me think of the ordeal we went through at Wendell Wilkie High School with our team name, which was “The Contenders”, because Wilkie was the Republican nominee for president against Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1940 and he almost won (NOT).

A lot of students don’t like “The Contenders” as a team name because it just sounds, you know, mediocre. I mean, there’s this feeling of trying your best, but kind of falling short. So the Young Republicans Club got on this kick to change the name to “The Nominees”, because that’s the contest that he actually won – in the Republican Party.

But then the Tea Party Republican Club found out that Wilkie was actually a Democrat before he was a Republican and became an emissary for FDR after losing to him, and wrote a book called “One World” and they felt so disappointed they started to push to change the name of the school to Ayn Rand High with a team called “The Objectivists.”

Just when that idea started to get some traction, the Students Hating All Military Madness In Every Sense (SHAMMIES) found out about Wilkie’s “One World” book and started to agitate for keeping Wilkie’s name on the school and calling the team “The Peacemakers.” But that idea got crushed pretty fast by the administration because (people say) Coach Gittum let them know he’d have nothing to do with it.

Then the Irony Club had to get into the act. They thought our team should be called “The Losers” because that’s what Wendell Wilkie is known for, after all. There were almost enough votes to get a resolution on that through the student council, but at the last minute a splinter group thought “The Failures” would be even more ironic, and they couldn’t keep their coalition together.

Finally a group of moderates in the Honorable Compromise Club pushed to change our team name to “The Statesmen,” which caught on with a lot of people as a less-bad option than all the other ones that were being discussed, and it passed the student council on a narrow, but statesman-like, vote.

But when it got to the Board of Education they threw out the whole idea because it would cost way too much to change all the school signage and letterhead and buy new athletic jerseys and stuff. So we’re still The Wilkie Contenders. Contenders who fell short of our goal! But they complimented us on our process and they hoped we learned something about democracy, which of course we did!

It sure burns up a lot of energy!

Your Pal,
Bubby

What was your Big Cause in High School?

Science

Seeing Speeding Space Chunks

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It appears that meteors of the sort that exploded in the air near Chelyabinsk in Russia are more common than scientists thought. The speeding rock caused a sensation when it streaked across the Russian sky last February, and the airborne blast created a concussion that broke windows. The bright light gave some people burned skin and the shock wave caused injuries on the ground.

Now some scientific analysis brings more information.

Most of the rock evaporated when it blew up 18.5 miles above Earth’s surface. Our atmosphere is 60 miles thick, or approximately the distance from St. Cloud to Minneapolis. So if the Chelyabinsk meteor were a metro area family returning home from a weekend up north at about 42,000 miles per hour (yes, that’s about how fast some of them drive), they made it to somewhere around Rogers before everything fell apart. That’s almost home by my reckoning.

Much of our worry has been focused on space rubble that’s more than a half-mile wide, but this lump was just 65 feet across. NASA is tracking more than 10,000 comets and asteroids though fewer than 1,500 have been classified as potentially hazardous to Earth. But the Chelyabinsk Chunk was made of a composite of gray and black stone, which reflects little light and is harder to spot. There may be more than 20 million asteroids with orbits that bring them close to Earth.

We can’t really protect ourselves against smaller space rocks. Gulp.

Where I once thought of space as cold, clean and empty, now I think of it as something like my basement, full of miscellaneous stuff I stopped thinking about.

Maybe rather than sending out movie-inspired space missions loaded with misfit deep-core drillers and explosives experts to destroy large threatening asteroids, we should launch misfit graffiti artists into orbit to paint the most threatening small debris so we can at least see it.

But this news, combined with our growing awareness of the long-term cost of concussions, will hasten the day when we all wear protective headgear most of the time, as both a fashion and safety statement.

Seriously.

Describe your everyday helmet – shape, color, decorations.

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Your State’s Favorite Name Here

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My favorite story about a person’s name came by way of a friend who had heard of an instance where a group of people were waiting at a government service center.  They had already turned in some paperwork so they were being called to the counter by name.

A puzzled clerk came to the front and hesitantly called out “Dee?  Deeah?”

After a moment’s silence, a clearly frustrated customer marched up to the clerk and demanded to see the name on the paper, which looked like this:  D-ea.

The customer rolled her eyes and huffed “It’s ‘Dee DASH ee ah’!  The dash is NOT silent!”

How could anyone know?  No wonder D-ea was miffed.  She probably realized in that moment she was going to spend a lifetime correcting people.  That can’t be fun, but it’s  the curse of having an uncommon name.

I suppose there’s a different type of frustration that rises out of having a name that is so ordinary, you run into like-named people at every turn.  I can scarcely imagine what it’s like to be a “Bob”.    Or a “Mary”!

Our national naming preferences are nothing more than fashion – a “hot” name sweeps the country and fades away, like weather or the flu.  That’s nicely demonstrated in the image below from the website Jezebel, which clicks through the years to show which girl’s names had favor in which states  at what times.

I’m amazed at the way “Jennifer”seized the national imagination and held it for so many years in the ’70’s.  It’s like the FDR of names – I’m sure parents at the time thought there would never be another top name for girls, ever.  Perhaps we need term limits for monikers.  Or it may be that our population is so diverse, there is less likelihood today that everyone will be on the same page, name-wise.  “Ashley” and “Emily” made a run at “Jennifer”-like status in later years, but the dominance Jennifer showed through Watergate and the Carter Administration is surely impressive and may never be equalled.    Today, it looks like “Emma” is ascendent.

But she’s no “Jennifer”.

How do you feel about your name? 

ku-bigpic

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Fall Back

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Today’s post is a Questionable News Dispatch from disgraced journalist Bud Buck.

Trying Not To Turn Back Time
Trying Not To Turn Back Time

Tea Party conservatives have mounted a last-minute filibuster to delay the return to standard time this weekend. Assuming a now-familiar position in the well of the Senate, Republican Ted Cruz said “I take the floor to speak until next Spring, if necessary, to keep the nation from making the grave mistake of turning its back on anything with ‘savings’ in the title.”

In the House, Speaker John Boehner has acquiesced to demands from the most conservative members of his caucus that clocks at the Capitol remain untouched throughout this weekend and until further notice because “… nothing about the United States is ‘standard’.” Sources inside the Republican caucus say the Tea Party contingent rejected a compromise offer from Boehner to change the name of the four month interlude between the end and beginning of Daylight Savings Time from the traditional “Standard Time” to “Exceptional Time”.

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell tentatively endorsed the effort, pending the discovery of a way to link the time change to Obamacare.

But as usual, not all Republicans were on board with the tactic. Arizona Senator John McCain called the strategy “asinine”, and said “Nobody needs an extra hour of sleep more than I do.”

How will you spend your extra hour this weekend?

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Home Away From Home

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I can’t quite grasp the breathless excitement of the writer when I find another article that touts the discovery of an amazing Earth-like planet found orbiting some distant star.

Typically the planet in question has qualities that make it tantalizingly similar to Earth – the size, the orbit, the gravity, Rocky Planet.JPEG-0bec9the composition.

But there’s always a deal breaker.

It’s like searching the city for a new house – there are always so many variables. You may find one that has the right number of bedrooms and the perfect kitchen with a right-sized, sunny yard, but the bathroom is a mess, or there’s mold in the basement, or it’s on fire.

Dang.

I’m waiting to hear about a distant Earth-like planet that is really like Earth. I want an ocean full of fish and forests with animals and a sunrise worth viewing through an atmosphere I can breathe. Knowing there is a far flung place we can actually go visit would make all the difference in our attitudes about deep space exploration.

Until a reasonable destination planet is found, I’d like to recommend a moratorium on use of the phrase “Earth-like”. In this case the headline should read “Flaming Hellscape Discovered At Safe Distance.”

Is there anyplace like home?

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Mind Your Knitting

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Today’s post comes from Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty (B.S.O.R.).

tightrope

At ease, civilians! Stay at ease and stay relaxed. And always, always be aware of your surroundings, Remember that your primary job is to preserve life and limb. As my Grandma Rafferty always said, “Mind your knitting. Unless you’re driving. Then mind your driving.”

This basic bit of commonsense instruction was apparently never given to the captain of the Costa Concordia, who sailed too close to the rocks while his illicit squeeze was watching him work. Never let someone watch you work! Never allow your attention to be drawn away by a distraction of any sort, such as showing off for some sexy someone whom you desperately want to impress.

If we counted up the cost of the rash things that have been done to leave a favorable impression with someone, it would leave a very unfavorable impression! That’s because wanting to impress anyone is ALWAYS a threat to life and limb, even if you’re trying to wow them with how SAFE you are.

When I was a senior in high school, I was courting the woman who eventually became Mrs. BSOR. I felt that I needed to demonstrate to her that I was not going to be fodder for one of those teenage car tragedy songs. I decided to do it by showing her how quickly I could become secured in the driver’s seat, literally grabbing the restraint system as I slipped into the vehicle and with one deft and powerful motion, slamming the metal buckle into its receptacle. As a result, I mangled my index finger and became hopelessly entangled in the seat-and-shoulder belt harness. Still trying to seem suave, I made a move to get out of the car quickly and gracefully, and in the process I hit the power recline button and wound up spraining my neck!

It was ill-advised and reckless of her to marry me anyway – a lapse for which I will always be grateful.

Y.I.S. (Yours in Safety),
B.S.O.R.(Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty)

What do you do when you want to show off?