I admire a good headline, and my eye was caught by one in the Wall Street Journal the other day – “Prices Soar on Crop Woes”. Basically the story is that a worldwide reduction in various agricultural harvests is causing food prices to go up.

Cheery, eh?

But despite the dire news it delivers, I decided I really, really like the sound and the rhythm of the five word sequence “Prices Soar on Crop Woes”. (Note to young musicians: “The Crop Woes” would be a great name for a band.)

I told myself that a global food shortage spurring higher prices everywhere is the kind of catastrophe that, if it can be averted, should be. And I resolved to come up with an inventive solution that had not yet occurred to anyone, because my brain is so unique. Hmmm.

I’ve never been good at anagrams, but the thought slipped into my head that maybe there’s an unseen angle on this problem hidden somewhere inside the 20 letters of the headline “Prices Soar on Crop Woes,” and it would reveal itself through re-arrangement. I was fairly sure no one had tried to solve the problem this way, so I started to puzzle it out.

The headline has 20 letters. When you group them by type and arrange them alphabetically, it looks like this:

a
cc
ee
i
n
oooo
pp
rrr
sss
w

Does laying it out this way make it easier to see new words inside the headline? I’ll leave it for you to judge. After thirty minutes of noodling, this is all I could come up with:

Poor Cows Are In Process
Sow Opera Ropes in Crocs

What does it all mean?

“Poor Cows Are In Process” could certainly be a problem in the global food supply. We beef eaters shouldn’t dine on poor cows if rich, hearty, healthy ones are available. A partial solution to the crisis! I was pretty proud of that.

“Sow Opera Ropes in Crocs”, however, was baffling. An opera by pigs might reduce our planetary appetite if we can get enough people to listen to it, but it won’t do anything to stop hunger. Although if crocs attended any opera put on by pigs, those particular pigs would never make it to any human’s table, so that’s a potential food supply problem, though probably not the worst one that we face.

Obviously my letter juggling approach to finding a novel solution to “Prices Soar on Crop Woes” was going nowhere. In desperation, I turned to the Internet Anagram Server, which is a place to go if you want evidence that your poor brain is not up to the task of competing with a computer.

On the Internet Anagram Server, type in a phrase and the software will re-arrange the letters for you. In the “advanced” menu, you can ask the server to include specific words. Since I already knew “sow” and “cow” could be made with some of the 20 letters, I included them. Unfortunately the headline doesn’t have the letters to spell “chicken”, so to represent the third most common meat to appear on American plates, I asked the server to find anagrams that included the word “coop”.

Here are some results:

Reprocess a Poor Cow? Sin.
A Porcine Cow Sores Pros.
A Nice Cow, or Oppressors
Poor Cow. A Prison Recess.

A Poor Sow, Sincere Crops
A Precise Sow Croons Pro
Sow A Sonic Pop Sorcerer
Sow Conspires a Coop Err

Coop Row Coarseness Rip
Sorrows Nip Coop Crease
Carrier Sews Coop Spoon
Spacier Coop Sore Sworn

What does this tell us?

It tells us that it is unbelievably easy to lose 90 irreplaceable minutes of your life online, even if you have nothing to play with but a 20 letter headline.

Aside from Trail Baboon, what is your biggest online time waster?

My cellphone chirped in the middle of the night with a rambling message from a restless friend who lives in the woods. It has been translated from the original Ursus Textish.

Hey, it’s Bart.

I know, I’m supposed to be hibernating but I couldn’t sleep. Know what that’s like?
Being awake in the middle of January is a real bummer. I’m afraid when April comes, I’ll still be tired. I’m dug into a hole under a big tree that fell over. It’s good. Out of the wind. Snow packed all around – that makes it cozy.

But when I open my eyes it’s just … you know. Bark. Not much to look at. I’ve tried counting sheep but it doesn’t help. Makes my stomach growl. We bears are already good at growling, so our stomachs get real loud. Somebody passing by could hear it and figure, ‘Hey, there’s a bear under the tree.’ Then I really wouldn’t be able to sleep. Rumor is, there are scientists in the woods.

Yup, I get a little paranoid.

But there’s good reason. Some of the bears say home invasions are on the rise. You’re sleeping and suddenly the door opens and these people reach in with needles and electronic collars and tags. They’re putting their hands all over you and poking you and measuring you, whispering all the while like it’s some secret mission. Then they go away! But when you get up in spring, all their merchandise is hanging off you, like you’re a Christmas tree that got decorated and forgotten. Then you have to drag that stuff around with you through the whole summer and maybe the rest of your life, clattering and beeping … slows you down. And the lady bears really don’t go for guys with flashing, humming collars. It feels like you’re being watched. Or so I hear.

Anyway, thinking about this is gonna keep me awake for days unless I figure it out, so if you’ve got advice about going back to sleep … something other than counting sheep … let me know, eh?

What cures insomnia?

With some sharp language-related news cutting through the air of late involving the U.S. Navy and some people standing in the road in North Carolina, I thought it would be enlightening to consult with someone I consider to be an expert in the field of salty talk, the skipper of the pirate clipper Muskellunge, Captain Billy.

I tossed some relevant press clippings into a bottle and launched it down the Mississippi through a hole in the ice near Fridley about a week ago, and much to my surprise a reply from the Captain arrived on my desk late last night, boldly dashed on a piece of damp parchment by someone using a parrot feather dipped in pomegranate juice. I deduce that it came from somewhere in the southern climes. Maybe Mendota Heights or even as far away as Cottage Grove!

Ahoy!

Many thanks fer yer question about public language an’ what is an’ what ain’t considered foul!

As Cap’n of a pirate ship, people automatically assumes I has a sharp tongue, a form of stereotypin’ which I resents. Me and me boys labors under heavy expectations from landlubbers regardin’ our manner of public discourse.

Fer instance, if’n one of me boys enters a waterfront saloon anywhere in th’ world, he ain’t taken serious until he either punches somebody’s lights out or utters at least a half dozen choice curse words in th’ local dialect. This gets t’ be a problem on account of th’ vast number of places we visits an’ all th’ different local standards fer rough talk. We ain’t scholars out here, an’ it’s quite a chore t’ keep up wi’ current foul language fashions.

Believe it or don’t, a surprising number of me boys is kind hearted souls who took t’ th’ life of piratin’ t’ get away from uncouth situations at home, an’ they ain’t much inclined to employ harsh language anyhow. They often declines shore leave, on account of th’ fact that it’s too much work to make th’ kind of impression a pirate has to make merely to get served a beer in some places.

But I caution’s ye against thinkin’ pirates is in any way refined. I prefers t’ think we’s Libertarians, language-wise. On board th’ Muskellunge there’s no rules about what a pirate can or can’t say, an’ that goes both ways. Most standard obscenities is allowed as well as any kind of precious, non-piratical sissy words like “Gosh”, “Jeepers” an’ “Swell.”

Where I draws th’ line is attitude. Me boys is not permitted t’ be mean spirited towards one another or anyone else, unless it has t’ do wi’ official pirate business, such as pillagin’ a quiet coastal town or ransackin’ a defenseless vessel.

Th’ one spoken word I never wants to hear on board th’ Muskellunge is th’ last name of that famous FAKE movie pirate, Johnny Depp. If’n one of me boys curses another with a “God Depp” or a “Depp You” or a “you’s a no good barnacle Depper,” I’ll wash his mouth out with a fruity wine cooler – a horrible insult t’ any boy what loves his grog.

Yers in love o’ th’ language,

Capt. B.

The captain has a strong point that the “bad”ness of words is more a question of local custom than universal truth, and the attitude we bring to any exchange is more important that what is actually said. Given that, I do think he is a bit of a hypocrite for taking such an uncharitable attitude toward Johnny Depp.

Do you have to watch your language?

Dear Dr. Babooner,

This may seem strange, but when terribly bad things happen, I usually know who is responsible right away, even before any reliable information is released.

Call it what you will – a second sense or just my keen understanding of the ways of the world, but once I have figured out who is guilty, I don’t think about it over and over. I’ve already done my thinking. I speak up, because people who commit horrible acts should be punished immediately! The problem with our legal system is that it’s got too much room for revisiting decisions that have already been made!

Sometimes, when the “authorities” finish their “process”, they claim the culprit is not who I said it was, but is actually someone kind of preemptively judgmental, like ME! Then people say I’m a hothead who rushes to conclusions. But judging is so fun, why not rush to get there?

Dr. Babooner, it seems like everyone these days is an amateur blame-placer or else some kind of a wait-and-see sissy! How can I get everyone to accept my view of things and not to waste any precious time arguing or fact-checking? I am ready to be the Global Blame Czar, but the world is pretending that there is some kind of problem with that!

Sincerely,

IKWIK (I Know What I Know)

I told IKWIK that (he/she) should try crawling to a conclusion sometime, just to see how it feels. I try to take that approach and it gives me space to change my mind several times before I arrive at a point of view. I don’t get many raves for decisiveness, but people still seem to think I’m smart when really, the truth is, I’m just slow. Sometimes intelligence is simply a matter of waiting to be the last one to speak.

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

I don’t know if you’ve heard about this, but goats have a tendency to climb on things. You can fight it or try to argue them out of it, but they climb anyway. Here’s a guy who has decided to go with the flow:

I admire anyone who is willing to put some effort into improving the life of an animal, though I’m guessing the goats don’t truly appreciate the clever names he has given all the parts of their obstacle course. He might think of it as a feather in his capra, but I suspect these are puns they’ve all herbivore. The structure they are most grateful for? The fact that he provides rumen board.

And here’s another goat-centric amusement. If this bridge-to-over-there was in my back yard, I’d be concerned about keeping the (human) kids off it.

When I was 8 years old we were fortunate to have a park nearby with swings, slides and a jungle gym. Unfortunately it was right by a river and before long we had left the safe thrills behind to go clambering over the high, sheer rocks that rose out of the water, daring gravity to humble us. It was nothing but luck that kept me from slipping off the moss covered stone face to go crashing into the boulders strewn riverbank below.

What was your greatest climb? (or is it still ahead of you?)

Here’s a note that came in early this morning from 10th grader Bubby Spamden.

Hey Mr. C.,

Your friend Bubby here, just wondering if you or any of your blog people could think of a way for me to get beyond this terrible routine I’m in of always being held back.

I know you already know that I’m Wendell Wilkie High School’s “perennial sophomore” and that I’ve been in 10th grade for about 25 years now. I think it’s turned into kind of a tradition here to not let me become a junior. Every day I’m used as a scary example for the younger kids (work hard or you’ll wind up like Bubby) and as a point of pride by the older kids (sure I got a D, but I’m better off than Spamden). I don’t think the teachers even look at my homework anymore.

And my parents are in on it! This is their way to keep themselves young – they prevent me from growing up! As long as I’m still a sophomore in high school, they can belong to the PTA, hang out with the parents who are still good looking, and dodge the high cost of college.

I admit that I’m not crazy about moving on myself, but what I’m wondering is this – is it possible to regress? It kills me to find out that in some elementary schools, little kids are being given iPads! I want to go back to the 4th grade! Pleeeeeease? I wanna!

Really, why can’t I start over and have a cool education like that?

Your friend,

Bubby Spamden

I told Bubby you get the education you seek, and he should not attack his school district to fight his own failings, real or imagined. And going backwards isn’t an option. Wilkie High School has already courted disaster by keeping him in the 10th grade for so long. “No Child Left Behind” is an act designed specifically to prevent Bubby Spamdens from happening everywhere! At the very least he should threaten to take his case to state education authorities. That possibility might be enough of a lever to make something good happen for him this spring. That’s what I told him.

As far as being given an iPad is concerned – there is nowhere in the wide world of education where that particular gift is going to be given to you, Bubby. Sorry, but any librarian will tell you – as soon as you learn how to turn off the family filter, handing you a computer becomes a very risky business.

What’s the coolest thing you were allowed to use while you were in school?