The pedals touch ground,
plucked from a moment’s fancy
soft as kind thoughts of you.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
…the great wearer of the shield, cummerbund, and sometimes toga; great chair of the The Terrestrial Modernity of it All committee brings you:
The TerMoiall Thought of the Day:
“Remember, you are here for a reason. It may be an absurd reason, but even absurdity has its place, and you have a place in it. So revel in the absurd moment. Consider it a Cosmic Return on Investment Karma or CROIK. Even if it is a Stupid Hard Irritating Time, remember this CROIK of S*** shall pass.”
Filed under TerMoiall, Wednesday wit
There once was a man from Bengal
who met a woman through a business phone call.
They arranged to meet;
she was soon sitting on his seat
because his chairs had been part of her recall.
In our continuing quest to revisit a classic, or even a curiosity from the past and see how relevant it is, we continue with The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce. Originally published in newspaper installments from 1881 until 1906. You might be surprised how current many of the entries are.
For example, here is a definition for Abridge and Abrupt. The Old definition for each work is Bierce’s. The New definition is mine or somebody else contemporary. From time to time, just as it was originally published, we will come back to The Devil’s Dictionary, for a look at it then and how it applies today. Click on Devil’s Dictionary in the tags below to bring up the other entries.
OLD DEFINITIONS
Abridge, v.t. To shorten
When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for a people to abridge their king, a decent respect for the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. – Oliver Cromwell.
Abrupt, adj. Sudden, without ceremony, like the arrival a cannon-shot and the departure of the soldier whose interests are most affected by it. Dr. Samuel Johnson beautifully said of another author’s ideas that they were “concatenated without abruption.”
NEW DEFINITIONS
Abridge, v.t. To build to nowhere.
Something you do until the courts tell you you can’t when you’re mayor of a small Alaskan town.
Abrupt, adj. How truth arrives to a political campaign, often showing candidates that what they have is abridge-ment to nowhere.
Filed under Ambrose Bierce, Devil's Dictionary
There once was a man with waders
Who thought he might find him some gators
down at his creek,
where the trash did seep
left often by unkind invaders.
On October 13th, a Saturday,
folks like you will come to play
from nine until noon
and not a moment too soon
to pick up trash and put it far away.
So come to First Creek and discover
“treasures” left by some unkind others:
shopping carts and flat tires,
pay phones, couches, and wires
and stuff that the creek tries to smother.
Bring tools and gloves for your hands;
pick up trash for as long as you can.
Once done, we will eat
Harby’s Pizza and Three Rivers’ treats
and be glad we helped the creek and the land.
A man trying on waders: Ask not by whom the trash will be picked up. The trash will be picked up by you.
Filed under Freeform Friday, Photo by author, poetry by author
A moment of life
wrapped in two lovers’ passion:
you and me entwined.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Things are never as they seem: including friendships.
Filed under cartoon by author, CarToonsday
Sometimes the photocopied note is a dead give away.
As a writer, I don’t get no respect. Just the other day I received a note from a publishing company on my submission. It read: “As a mystery novel, it’s just run-of-the-morgue.”
Shows you how much they read. There’s no morgue in my novel.
The blathering idiot saw Lydia enter the room where he was being schooled by the consultant and was relieved when she walked up to them and asked to speak to the blathering idiot alone for a few minutes.
Even the consultant appeared eager to give her that time. He leapt up from his chair and was tripping the light fantastic as he stepped out of the room. Or so it appeared to the blathering idiot.
“How goes it?” Lydia asked.
The blathering idiot shrugged. “Seems like I gotta play dumb to get elected.”
“Surveys show time and time again that people want to elect somebody just like them.”
“Then why don’t those people run for office?”
Lydia smiled and then laughed. “You do have a way about you.”
“And what does that mean?”
She sat down in the chair the consultant had been sitting in. She placed a hand on his knee. She looked directly at him and he at her. He thought maybe this was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment when she would ask him what he was doing tonight, would he like to come over for a home cooked meal and they could discuss campaign strategy and other things.
He half closed his eyes in dreamy anticipation.
Instead, she said, “Let’s just say you’re weird, but in an endearing sort of way, and that’s what we need to capitalize on in this campaign.”
The blathering idiot opened his eyes wide. Weird? Endearing? How did that stack up with being someone just like everyone else? Would you want to have a beer with somebody weird but endearing?
He thought about that last question for a minute. Would he have dinner with somebody weird, but endearing?
“Here, let me show you something,” Lydia said.
She stood up and offered her hand. He took it and followed her out of the room, out of the building. Once outside she led him over to a vehicle.
“Our budget is tight, but we got what we could afford, within the consultant’s guidelines, for your official campaign vehicle.”
“It’s … it’s a … truck,” the blathering idiot said.
“Not just any truck,” Lydia said.
“Yeah, it’s an old truck.”
“Politicians have traveled on trains, in cars, even in trucks before when campaigning. We thought this truck would speak of a connection to the past of this great country, add a sense of history to our young Pro-Accordion Party.”
“Will it make it? After all, it looks pretty well used … and rusted in spots.”
“That’s the other beauty of it,” she said. “That patina of wear gives us that underdog touch, that little engine that could meme.”
“Meme?” the blathering idiot asked.
“I’ll explain later.”
The blathering idiot nodded, but he doubted the explanation would be over a homemade dinner.
Campaigning on a budget: the blathering idiot’s official campaign wheels.
There once was a man well endowed
who was always noticed in crowd.
Say what you think
about his masculine stink,
but he always wore it quite proud.
Filed under limerick, poetry by author, Silly Saturday
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