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Pirate Philosophy

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Today’s post is a commentary that was delivered to my house Wednesday night as a liner pasted inside the bottom of a kettle of saltwater fish. I have managed to dry it out just enough to make it legible, but it is unlikely that it will never smell good enough to be filed away with my other papers.

Ahoy!

On Tuesday, me an’ me boys watched by satellite wi’ great excitement as people of th’ U.S. of A. picked th’ same president they already had! He is no friend to outlaws an’ pirates, that’s fer sure. We was so hopin’ fer a victory by Mr. Romney, who in spite of his polished looks has much more in common with us pirates – bein’ a takeover an’ liquidation artist, which is somethin’ we understands quite well.

‘Twas not to be, however. Bein’ th’ leader of a crew is a great advantage t’ anyone what wants t’ stay the leader. In my experience, anyhow. Underlings gets used t’ a particular view, an’ it can be a comfort t’ know yer betters, rather than havin’ t’ get used t’ a new one.

No skin off’n our noses out here, as long as we gets t’ enjoy an overthrow in th’ order of things, which is our favorite kind o’ drama. An’ we is mighty entertained to see that swashbuckler Karl Rove comin’ under fire fer “wastin'” 300 million smackeroos whilst tryin’ t’ guide the outcome.

All them horses he bet on lost. Quite satisfyin’, that.

But then me an’ the boys believes there ain’t no such thing as wastin’ booty! Whether you forcibly takes th’ goods or simply uses yer wiles t’ talk someone into handin’ over their riches, th’ wealth is come by honestly (fer us), an’ usin’ it all up on whiskey an’ wenches is far from a waste if’n that’s what you wants t’ do!

Pleasure is a real thing, says me an’ me boys. It has value an’ is always worthwhile.

So what if Rove gave away all his booty t’ th’ owners of TV stations in Ohio. That’s perfectly fine as long as he enjoyed doin’ it, on account of th’ fact that th’ cash ain’t gone – ’tis now in more vigorous circulation. Them what wants t’ get their money back need only figure out what kinds of commodities Ohio TV executives likes. I confess that a moment spent considerin’ the possibilities leaves me feelin’ a bit queasy. But I is quite certain that’s where the money is headed next on it’s journey!

As fer ol’ Rove an’ his unproductive but delightful spendin’ binges, we is more than happy to welcome him here to th’ Muskellunge if’n he wants th’ sympathy an’ comfort of his own kind! An’ I is certain we can teach him a thing ‘r two ’bout bombast an’ obfuscation.

Yer peg leg pen pal,
Cap’t Billy

I’m not sure that I buy into the captain’s economic theories, but his attitude regarding the value of pleasure is refreshing.

Describe a “wasted” expenditure.

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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We are ALL Dr. Babooner.

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I’m exhausted from years of having to think about the 2012 elections. Now that it’s over, I’m looking forward to a little entertainment. Problem is, we have only one free night this weekend.

So I invited my husband to go with me to see a big hero movie that’s opening today. The main character is iconic. Larger than life. Admired. Beloved, even. I e-mailed the trailer to him to get him excited about the prospect of spending a couple of hours in the dark with me and this well-known character. My hope is that we’d both feel all action-y afterwards. Take a look and tell me it’s not amazing!

But here’s the thing, Dr. Babooner. My husband wrote back and said he’d LOVE to go see a big hero movie that’s opening this weekend about an iconic character who is beloved and larger than life. He said he was excited at the thought of sitting in the dark with me and this well-known character. I was thrilled, until he said that afterwards we could have a really intense … political discussion.

Then I looked at the video he put in his e-mail.

Now I don’t know what to do!

Do I want frenetic spy thrills in a tense and gray modern London, or frenetic political jawboning in a tense and gray 19th century America?

My husband and I want to be together, but I’m afraid this choice is making it very difficult.

Conflictedly,
A House Divided.

I told A.H.D. she should flip a coin and live with the result. Really, it’s hard to go wrong, so why agonize? But that’s just one opinion. What do you think, Dr. Babooner?

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Confetti Drop

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Today’s post is a request for a personal favor that came from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden.

Hey Mr. C.,

How about that election, eh? I was sure inspired by it, and suddenly I’m feeling really optimistic about my future!

It’s not that I’m a big Obama fan or anything like that, but I thought his speech was awesome at the end when they lit up some massive confetti fountains.

That was amazing!

I don’t know much about what he said, but finishing in a blizzard of flying red, white, and blue strips makes it all seem so much more terrific! And trying to watch the president and his family move around through that biodegradable blizzard was just a really, really cool effect – like Instagram, but in real life.

I’m pretty sure I want to work in the confetti industry when I grow up.

I’m not sure if I’m going to sell confetti cannons or just be one of the assembly line workers who cuts the paper into the shape of bats or balloons, but I know I’m going to do something to bring more confetti into the world! Call it a mission. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be totally dedicated to it.

And it’s also a smart plan because confetti is getting to be more acceptable at big public events and celebrations, including weddings! Throwing rice is out – now it’s confetti launchers and customized shapes. Confetti is OK just about everywhere, except funerals.

But that could change.

My folks used to look at the condition of my room and tell me I would only ever get hired by someone who really wanted to make a mess. I hope I can make their dream for me come true!

Do you know anybody in the confetti business who is looking for an intern or a cannon loader?

Your pal,
Bubby.

I told Bubby I would love to help him, but I don’t know anybody outside the very small industry I’ve worked in for the past 40 years. I certainly do wish him well, though, as he tries to get a foothold in the confetti biz. I assume success there is less about what you throw, and more about whom you know.

Describe a time when knowing the right person changed everything.

The Baboon Congress

Unnatural Disaster

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Today’s guest post comes from Edith.

The other day I was having a laid back day at home, alone except for the dog and cat. At lunchtime I was just a little hungry, so I made some popcorn with my new Whirley-Pop® stovetop popcorn pan that I had recently acquired from Aldi. Three minutes on the stove and I could enjoy perfect popcorn, lightly salted, with a sprinkle of brewer’s yeast for nutrition. Easy. Turn off the stove burner and munch away.

Delicious!

The hot drink I had made earlier was now cold so I reheated it in the microwave, which is above the stove. I keep a plastic “splatter cover” in the microwave to use when reheating food on plates—to keep the heating food from spattering all over the microwave. Since I didn’t need it for this, I set it on the counter directly to the left of the burner I had used for making popcorn.

Then it was upstairs with my drink to check email and the Trail. As usual, I got distracted by the internet and was at the computer for a good while, blissfully unaware of my surroundings. Then I heard the smoke alarm going off! Good grief! What on earth???

Whenever the smoke alarm goes off, the dog freaks out and demands to go outside away from that terrible noise (she will then lie down by the back gate, as far away from that horrible sound as she can get, and refuse to come back indoors for hours). So as I rushed madly downstairs to see what was causing the smoke alarm to go off, the dog was rushing down even more madly, desperate to get out of this house. The cat, meanwhile, was rushing madly upstairs to get away from the noise and from those two idiotic creatures (the dog and I) who were making as much noise as a herd of elephants and acting as rationally as a couple of chickens with their heads cut off.

As I ran past the kitchen, I noticed flames…and a terrible smell. After letting the dog out, I grabbed a broom to use to shut off the alarm. Naturally the hook system from which the broom was hanging chose that moment to be stubborn and not easily give up possession of the broom. After a little tussle, I separated them—hooks crashing to the floor—pounded on the off button with the broom handle—oh, blissful silence—and within seconds was in the kitchen to confront the fire.

The plastic cover I had placed on the counter was burning. Obviously, I had not turned off the burner…not to mention, the plastic cover was a little too close to that burner. First thing to do was put the fire out. So after turning off the burner, I immediately picked up the plastic object where the flames hadn’t reached yet and brought it over to the sink to douse with water. Big mistake. I obviously didn’t realize that even if I didn’t actually touch the flames, that it was still extremely hot.

Burning hot, in fact. Owie!

Cool water running over my hands. Then plastic cover dumped on the back porch. Windows opened. Fan in the attic window blowing out so fresh air will come in. Everything’s all better…but, wait, what are those blisters on my fingers? And why do they feel like they are on fire?

When have you made a disaster out of something simple?

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Do the Right (or the Wrong) Thing!

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Today’s post comes from the Honorable Loomis Beechly, representing Minnesota’s fabled 9th district – all the water surface area in the state.

Greetings, Valued Constituents and Miscellaneous Voters,

My apologies for this message directed at a mass audience on what is a day of personal choice. I want to urge you … YOU, specifically … to go to the polls and vote your conscience today, especially if you live in the 9th district and your conscience is telling you to vote for ME.

If you’d rather vote for someone else, of course you have every right to do that, although I will feel a knife-like jab of intense physical pain if you put your “X” in someone else’s box. But don’t let that influence your decision.

The choice is yours to make.
Even if you do it wrong and ruin EVERYTHING.

But whatever you do about voting today, please don’t skip it and become a Civically Derelict American. Those who have tossed away their franchise in an expression of political ennui are the most heartbreaking and miserable of creatures. Why? They have squandered their most valuable possession, and will have no right to complain for the next four years.

Think about that. Four years without complaining? I don’t know anyone who can live that way!

You may believe that your vote doesn’t matter, but remember this – two major parties and a bunch of insanely rich people have just spent one billion dollars trying to influence what you will do today.

One billion dollars! This is the most money anybody will ever spend doing anything related to you. Seriously. So stay relevant. Stay focused. Hold your nose, get out and vote, and then go home and take a bath if you feel sullied.

But don’t be like Hamlet, who was an undecided voter right up to the end because he couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than two seconds.

Don’t believe me? Who could forget his famous Polling Place soliloquy?

To vote, or not to vote. I’m still an equestrian!
The weather is colder than a frozen scupper
that wheels barrows of contagious portions
and gendarmes against a tree of bubbles.
And through composting, befriends them.
or by proposing, spend them: a guy, asleep
No more; and not a peep, of our lost weekend!
The smart fakes, and the cow’s unnatural socks.
They flash that hairdo! ‘Tis a constipation
without to be wished. a guy’d die to sleep,
and sleep, purchase a Dream; Sigh. There’s the tub!

Yes, like I said. Take a hot bath and wash it off you.

I wish I understood Shakespeare. It’s mostly gibberish to me, pretty much in the same way politics is nonsense to a lot of ordinary people. But not understanding what is going on doesn’t keep me from seeing a Shakespeare play every now and then. So go out and vote, even if it leaves you feeling like poor Hamlet – all weird and iffy inside, but also like you’ve sort of done the right thing.

Sincerely,
Your Congressmen (maybe)
Loomis Beechly.

Hmmm. I’m afraid one of his aides has allowed Congressman Beechly to drink and write the constituent newsletter at the same time – not a good combination.

When have you regretted a vote?

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Bears Prove Strangely Charming

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Today’s post is a text from Bart, the bear who found a smart phone in the woods.

Hey. Bart here.
Loved seeing this in the Star Tribune:

“Wolves Prove Elusive on Hunt’s First Day

Yes, wolves are sneaky and suspicious – they’re not easy to meet. Kinda wallflower-y. Hang with their own crew, y’know? Not a big surprise to me, but it’s kinda fun when something you’ve understood your whole life becomes headline news for other people.

I’m trying to stay neutral on the question of whether there should be a wolf hunt. I’m not a big fan of having people in the woods with guns, but as long as they’re out here looking for something that’s not a bear, I guess I’m OK with it.

I do feel more relaxed now that Minnesota’s bear hunting season is over. Spending those weeks wondering whether the food I smell is really a bag of Doritos that fell out of someone’s backpack, or a hunter’s bait station – it gets kinda stressful. Always second guessing the nose, y’know?

Using bait to draw in one of your fellow creatures is kinda low, in my opinion. If you know what they like and you put it out there to get their attention, not really ever meaning to let them have it. How can you feel good about that?

But then you wouldn’t know how it feels to have that “uh-oh” moment when you’re taking your first bite of something that smelled so good and it suddenly dawns on you that this is just a big con job and you’ve been had. That’s pretty much an everyday experience out here in the woods. Or so I hear tell. Not many animals who have had that feeling come around to talk about it later. Funny, eh?

Or maybe you DO know.

I’ve been seeing lots of ads on the phone for candidates in some election-thingy coming up. Looks like everybody’s using their own special bait formula to get your attention. I’m sure that whatever it is, the stuff seems pretty great. Better give it a good once over before you go in close.

I’m just sayin’.

Your pal,
Bart

What sort of bait do you find irresistible?

Songs, The Baboon Congress

Will You Marry Me?

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Today’s guest post comes from Beth-Ann.

When my son was young we were at Como Park and as happens on many sunny Saturdays there was a wedding party posing for photographs. It was a large Filipino family wearing flouncy dresses and elegant tuxes. The bride’s dress was layers and layers of white lace with a long train.

My son turned to me and said, “Now I know why you never got married. ”

I was interested in his analysis and asked him why.

His preschooler answer was, “That dress looks awfully itchy. You wouldn’t want to wear it.”

I think my unmarried state is related to more complex social interactions, and because Prince Charming never showed with ring in hand to propose.  But my son was right, that dress did look itchy.  With all the talk surrounding the marriage amendment I’ve recently been revisiting the question of why people get married and why at a time when the divorce rate is reported to be 50% do same sex couples in this country want so desperately to follow suit?

I think we’re past the time when women married for economic security. Similarly, all sorts of statistics and observations confirm that few people wait until marriage to have sex. Many couples don’t even wait until marriage to have kids. So if the sociological and natural law descriptions that marriage is for breeding and money/survival no longer apply, what’s the allure?

Some of the most heartfelt words about marriage these days seem to come from members of the gay community who in most states are denied the chance to marry. Two young Minnesotan men wrote the following:

On May 22nd we were married in the chapel. Surrounded by nearly 200 friends and family, in the presence of God, we made sacred vows to love and honor one another in sickness and in health, when times are good and when things get tough. We made a public promise of responsibility for each other and asked our loved ones to support us and hold us accountable. We married for the same reasons heterosexuals couples marry: To make a lifetime commitment to the one we love in the presence of our friends and family; to share the joys and sorrows that life brings; to be a family, and to be able to protect that family.

This ideal is reflected in a video posted by the local duo Neal and Leandra.

For those who have the legal right to do it, getting married is the easy part (itchy dress notwithstanding). Staying together appears to be the bigger challenge.

How and why do people stay married?

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Cry If You Want To

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There’s no formula for becoming an internet video sensation. If it were simple, everyone would do it, and if everyone could do it, online celebrity-hood would become meaningless. We’d all be enthralled with each other, equally.

Hmmm. That’s not a bad goal. But it’s almost impossible to plan to get there.

One thing that greatly boosts the popularity of an online video is its genuine-ness. Fakes don’t fare well. And if your message also EXACTLY echoes the feelings of millions, well … as I said there’s no formula, but these are mighty good qualities.

Witness this brief clip of four year old Abigael Evans.

Abigael’s distress is so real, NPR was moved to issue a formal apology on its website. Publicity-wise, this was a smart move. I am surprised Obama and Romney weren’t close behind with sympathetic words, treats and maybe some fun music to listen to in the car instead of radio news. Romney especially. Since he can’t do much to soothe the suffering in New Jersey, you think he’d jump at the chance to publicly wipe away a little girl’s sorrow.

The power of politics is awesome, and it is amplified a million times over by the internet. A star is born. Abigael will receive commercial and product endorsement offers. She may be invited to some election night parties, if she isn’t already booked to do analysis on CBS.

Five days to go.

What does it take to bring you to Tears of Frustration?

The Baboon Congress

Pratfalls, Punchlines, and Pacts

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Today’s guest post comes from Clyde.

I recently stumbled across a little-known Thurber cartoon. I haven’t seen it almost 50 years.

The cartoon shows a distinctly Thurberian man wearing a bowlerhat and a startled look as he half reclines on a chaise lounge, as so many Thurber people do. Seated next to him is a young woman with hanging hair and and enraptured look saying “Have you fordotten our ittle suicide pact?”

I had an English course in college in which the instructor took us off into analysis of comedy, which, as he well knew, is a futile question. It is almost impossible to explain what makes us laugh, why things are funny. I presented this cartoon as an example of inexplicable humor. I do not know why I like this joke so much. The problem in the class was that the instructor did not think it was funny, nor did many of my classmates. Several people, in those touchy 1960’s, thought it was sexist.

We soon discovered that there was wide range of taste in humor in the class. Also, we got into that fuzzy region of trying to separate wit from comedy, from humor, from burlesque, from bombast, from camp, from satire, etc. We arrived at no real answers, but, oh, my, what a good class that was.

Isaac Asimov wrote a short story called “Jokester” (in Earth is Room Enough,1957) in which a scientist tries to find out where jokes come from, how they start. He discovers that they are implanted in human society by a superior alien race which is using them to study human psychology. Think about that a minute, just how much comedy does show about us. In Asimov’s story the moment the scientist discovers this truth, the aliens remove all the jokes and human life becomes bleak.

When I directed plays I was quite good at inventing humorous business, especially for a melodrama done in the Two Harbors band shell, the first of many we did in the mid 1980’s. I took a basic Samuel French-published melodrama and localized it. Instead of the heroine saying “He deserted me in the wicked city,” she said, “He left me in the wicked city of Superior.” You may have to be from the Duluth area to get that. We even did a drawn out version of the Groucho Marx “walk this way” joke that was very funny.

We made lots of fun of Duluth. “I had to go to Duluth . . . once” [Long deep sighs of sympathy from the whole cast, including those not on stage who stepped out to sigh and some plants in the audience who arose to sigh. We even once did it with all in perfect unison.]

One joke we could never make work. The line from the hero was “I am going to go way out west.” We wanted to add to that. “I am going to go way out west to ________.” We could come up with nothing funny. We tried Clover Valley (east of Duluth), Floodwood, Brainerd, Fargo, and several others. We had him point east or say “Bayfield.” There must be a joke there, but we could not find it.

My own favorite was having the heroine cry great sobs at the front of the stage while begging sympathy from all the women for the evil the villain had done to her. She then wrung out water from a sopping wet handkerchief she was oh so carefully handling while daubing her eyes.

As you can tell I like broad dumb humor. “Airplane” is one of my favorite movies. And I do like wit, the wry turn of phrase or events, as well as offbeat oddball humor, such as Thurber cartoons. I do not like physical humor or humor based on someone’s embarrassment or jokes that belittle, which is why I gave up network television 30 years ago. I must reluctantly admit that I do not find many of the classic pieces of comedy funny: Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy (just get the damn piano up the stairs, would you?), Abbot and Costello, W. C. Fields.

Now your turn. I’ve let you into the dark places of my psyche.

What makes you laugh? What does not make you laugh?

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Subway Submersion

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Parts of the New York Subway System are underwater following Hurricane Sandy. It will take a while to get things back to normal – water has to be pumped out of tunnels and salty residue must be removed from the rails. Think of all the wet garbage and drowned rats! Ugh.

There is an underground world in Manhattan. This storm-induced interruption in service will force regular subway travelers to take busses, taxis, cars, or their own feet to the next destination. I wonder how that will change their experience, and if any of them will hesitate to return to the tunnels once the subways are up (or should I say down?) and running.

A fascinating subway-based project of the New York Public Library is this extensive series of photographs of people submerged in their books. Underground. Click on any of the photos and you will find out what the engulfed travelers are reading.

In some cases the photographer doesn’t know what the rider is reading, and apparently doesn’t ask. In such a case, the question is opened up to online readers, who invariably come up with an answer. Here’s an example of a query about a book. Here’s a close up of the cover. Good luck with that. How do people figure it out?

Only in New York could you do this sort of thing. May the subways be restored quickly!

Can you read while in motion? What would you read on the subway?