Category Archives: Photo by author

May 17, 2013 · 5:17 am

Photo Finish Friday: “Portal”

In the hedge lay adventure.

In the hedge lay adventure.

Robbie said, “Ain’t so.”

“Is too,” Ray said back.

Robbie and Ray were each six years old. Robbie was a few months older, and on occasions like this, he like to remind Ray of that. They just weren’t sure what this occasion was. Still, Robbie was asserting his role as elder statesman to tell Ray he was wrong.

“It’s like Nose legend.,” Ray said “You know, that great fight called Rag in a rock.”

“This got nothin’ to do with that,” Robbie said. “Ain’t nothin’ more than a strange cut in the hedge for that box.”

“It’s a portal, I tell you. And those Nose gods will come pourin’ through it to do battle with them frost giants and there will be an army of Gideon.”

“Who’s that?” Robbie asked.

Ray shrugged. “Some guy who can pour armies.”

“Ain’t no army goin’ to come pourin’ out of that hole in the hedge. It don’t even go all the way through.”

“It’s still a portal,” Ray said, “and if you go and sit in it for six hours, you will see it: happening. I dare ya’. I double dog dare ya!”

Not one to turn down a double dog dare, Robbie snuck up on the rectangular. And to show he wasn’t scared at all, he climbed into the hole in the fence. He tried several different poses and a few words he wasn’t supposed to.

After thirty minutes, Robbie fell asleep in the portal. After another ten minutes had passed, Ray left and walked back to the family picnic where he immediately ate his ice cream allotment and Robbie’s, too.

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May 3, 2013 · 11:04 pm

Photo Finish Friday: “New digs”

Even the "wee little people" have to consider climate change when finding new digs.

Even the “wee little people” have to consider climate change when finding new digs.

“Well, Colm, have you and the little missus decided on which home will be yours?”

Colm didn’t like the way the realtor used the phrase “the little missus,” but he held his tongue. He’d let “the little missus” glare do all the talking on that point. He and Caroline had come to look for a new dwelling, one outside the faery hill they were living in. The sea level was rising and their hill had already started taking in some water. Yet, he wasn’t quite sold on this type of housing. After all, even it sat on spindle taken from an old staircase in rundown historic home, as advertised, he didn’t know he was quite ready to buy one.

“Maybe this will help you make up your mind,” Jasper the realtor said. He rubbed his hands together, then slapped then against each other, then shot his sleeves. His jacket was as loud as his actions. Rumor had it, the darn thing was actually made from a section of a horse blanket. If it had been from a braying jackass, it would have been more appropriate.

“For today, only,” Jasper said, “I will throw in a ten pound bag of birdseed at no additional charge.”

“Birdseed?” Caroline asked, speaking for the first time in over an hour. “What do we need birdseed for?”

“Why, my lovely, for the birds that will be stopping by.”

“You mean this is a bird house?” She asked.

“Only if you let them stay,” Jasper said. He rubbed his hands together again, then slapped them against each other again, then shot his sleeves again. “And if they should become a bother, I have a couple of cats on retainer that for a small fee I can send over your way for a few days, and that should clear things right up.”

Colm sighed. Moving into a neighborhood above ground was going to be harder than he had imagined.

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April 19, 2013 · 8:19 am

Photo Finish Friday: “The Trojan catsup bottle”

[Editor’s note: Every now and then I will post a photo with a caption or a short poem or a bit of writing to it. You are free to make up own captions or comments.]

The invading force was hidden inside a giant Brooks Catsup Bottle.

The invading force was hidden inside a giant Brooks Catsup Bottle.

There it was. The invading force was hidden inside a giant Brooks Catsup Bottle. He was sure of it.

“There it is,” David said to himself. When we go to sleep tonight, the alien invading force will unscrew the top of the giant bottle, sneak out, and cut the throats of all able-bodied males, slather the women in red ooze, and tie up the children with supersized french fries. Somehow, he had to muster the courage to tell the town’s people an invasion was coming and likely coming tonight, and that the aliens would be flowing out of the giant bottle like spilled milk. He didn’t relish all the derisive comments he’d have to face and maybe even a rotten tomato or two thrown at him. After all, this wasn’t the first alien invasion he’d been privy to. Or even the second. He didn’t call this the Condiment Wars for nothing.

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February 16, 2013 · 6:18 pm

The Devil’s Dictionary: “Absurdity, Adherent, Administration, Admiration, and Admonition”

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 are definitions for Absurdity, Adherent, Administration, Admiration, and Admonition. The Old definitions are Bierce’s. The New definitions are mine or somebody else contemporary. The new definitions can also be simply examples of The Devil’s Dictionary definitions. 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:

Absurdity, n. A statement of belief manifestly inconsistent with one’s own opinion.

Adherent, n. A follower who has no yet obtained all that he expects to get.

Administration, n. An ingenious abstraction in politics, designed to receive the kicks and cuffs due to the premier or president. A man of straw, proof against bad-egging and dead-catting.

Admiration, n. Our polite recognition of another’s resemblance to ourselves.

Admonition, n. Gentle reproof, as with a meat-axe. Friendly warning:
Consigned by way of admonition,
His soul forever to perdition.
Judibras

NEW DEFINITIONS:

Absurdity, n. A statement of belief manifestly inconsistent with one’s own, but accepted none-the-less as truth because it has been spoken of often enough by enough commentators and talking heads so as to make it real.

Adherent, n. A follower of an absurdity (or several) who has not yet obtained all that he expects to get from his or her absurdities. For example: Those who say they want less federal government involvement in their lives while living in a state that gets more in federal money than it pays in.

Administration, n. An ingenious abstraction in politics, designed to receive the kicks and cuffs due to the premier or president.
Example: In the news: On December 7th of last year, the Administration hung a banner on an air craft carrier announcing that the war was over. “Mission Accomplished,” it read. When asked about this today, the straw man said, “I never said that.”

Admiration, n. Our polite recognition of another’s resemblance to ourselves, up to and including our own adherence to the same absurdity. “He’s a man I’d like to have a beer with,” one voter said in remarking why he voted for the teetotaler running for office.

Admonition, n. Gentle reproof, as with a meat-axe. Friendly warning.
Damned by Fox news admonition,
His liberal soul forever to perdition.

The Adherent was advised of the absurdity in believing everything the administration was saying. But the adherent's admiration knew no bounds, and then he became an abomination and received the highest compliment: an admonition from those he admired.

The Adherent was advised of the absurdity in believing everything the Administration said. But the Adherent’s admiration knew no bounds, and then he became an abomination and received the highest compliment: an admonition from those he admired.

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February 8, 2013 · 10:09 pm

Freeform Friday: Americana

Pig on a porch swing

Pig on a porch swing

Pig in a Porch

by David E. Booker

Pig on a porch swing
sittin’ by the road.
One day waved
at a passing toad.
Toad wheeled around
to give the pig heck
when the pig pulled out
a menu and a pet.
The toad saw the pig
had a frog on a string,
which to him was
the oddest of all things.
I’ll free that frog
if it takes all day.
the toad said to himself
when asked the pig to play.
Pig on a porch swing
sittin’ by the road.
One day waved
at a passing toad.
Toad wheeled around
to give the pig heck
when the pig pulled out
a menu and a pet.
The toad saw the pig
had a frog on a string,
which to him was
the oddest of things.
I’ll free that frog
if it takes all day.
the toad said to himself,
then he asked the pig to play.
The pig said, “Sure
Whatcha have in mind?”
The toad said, “Sit Still.
It’s a favorite of mine.”
So the pig sat still
Well into the night
Which was all well and good
And to the Toad’s great delight.
So, to this very day
Should you pass by his swing
You’ll find our intrepid pig
Is still doing the statue thing.

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January 6, 2013 · 1:12 am

Serendipity comes to an end

rosster on cage

The rooster atop the birdcage. Through the window are books offered for sale.

By David E. Booker

I have worked at a struggling independent bookstore. I used to joke that I couldn’t hang out in bars, so I hung out in bookstores instead. Truth is, I probably wouldn’t be hanging around bars anyway. They never held much attraction for me.

But a neighborhood bookstore in a former bar, and on top of that a bar that has a reference in literature? Sometimes more serendipitous things have happened, but for slightly over two years Central Street Bookstore was just such a place. Housed in what was formerly the Corner Lounge, the same Corner Lounge referenced in Cormac McCathy’s novel Suttree, it was a place where you could find a good used or rare book as well as stand at the bar that may have been around when Cormac McCarthy lived in Knoxville.

You could also find interesting curiosities such as an orrery, a smiling Buddha with red nipples, a limber-headed statue of Edgar Alan Poe, and a rooster sitting atop a birdcage housing lights. It was a place, as owner John Coleman said, “where people can still make serendipitous discoveries,” be those discoveries novels by authors you knew or didn’t know (including Suttree and other books by McCarthy), books of poetry, history books, and copies of books you might not find anywhere else, including comic books and even the occasional book on tape. I found and bought probably way too many books there for myself and friends, including some this past Christmas.

Books on shelves

Some of the books for sale at Central Street Books.

Unfortunately, that will all end this March 2013, when Central Street Books closes its doors. John says the store is too small to be profitable, and that at least for the moment, he’ll concentrate on his Internet book selling and traveling to sell at book fairs. He will also have some books at a local antique mall. The struggling independent bookstore I worked at over 15 years ago is also closed. Has been for many years. The building is now home to an Oriental restaurant.

It was a serendipitous that this bookstore showed up in my neighborhood, even if for only two years. I’m just not sure where my next serendipitous finds will be found.

Book sign

Books and more.

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December 25, 2012 · 8:12 pm

New Holiday Character: “Bow Man”

The Bow Man

By David E. Booker

You say you don’t like them,
Then you begin to shout.
You’d better be very careful
Or the Bow Man will clean you out.

He comes on Christmas Day
After you’ve unwrapped all your toys
To take all the ones back
With which you seem annoyed.

Complain about a doll:
“It’s not the color I like.”
He’ll take away all your toys:
Games, dolls, scooters, and bikes.

Beware what you dislike
For that’s just what he enjoys
He’ll snatch away your gifts
Even from good girls and boys.

Don’t like the new dress?
He’ll snatch it off your body.
He’ll take your jacket and your scarf
While sipping your hot toddy.

He’s worse than the Grinch,
Who took your stuff at night.
The Bow Man will do it today,
In the broadest of daylight.

He once snatched a mouse
Right out of an old cat’s paws.
The cat complained the mouse
Was not from Santa Claus.

The Bow Man’s big and fat,
And wears green ugly clothes.
If he ever comes to see you,
His smell will turn up your nose.

He’s dressed in ribbons and bows
But don’t let the festive look fool you.
If you complain about your toys,
He’ll keep Christmas from being cruel to you.

The Bow Man

A grainy photo of the infamous Bow Man. Note the Smiley Face made from bows as a way to lull you into a false sense of security.

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December 23, 2012 · 7:23 pm

New word: “Untree”

What is a succinct way to say the main course of your meal, your entree is not up to expectation?

You can stick any number of adjectives before the noun. For example, bad entree, lackluster entree, limp entree. But in our fast-paced society, maybe there is a need for a one-word noun that covers the issue.

That’s why we, to collective perspicacity of this blog suggest this new word: “untree.”

For example, “Waiter, my untree.”

That is all you would have to say. You wouldn’t have to say, “Waiter, my entree is unacceptable.”

Just say: “Waiter, my untree.”

bowl of oatmeal

Sometimes breakfast is the most untree of the day.

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December 22, 2012 · 12:47 pm

Silly Saturday: “Christmas Time”

Christmas Time

By David E. Booker

Christmas comes but once a year
As songs and calendar make clear;
And then the bills come blowing in,
Heralding a new year, amen.

So out into the cold I go,
Fighting wind and debt and snow
Bringing Christmas joy and cheer
’Til my bank account is clear.

Then the credit cards come out
And out and out and then about
The time I think I’ve spent enough
There is a present that I’ve muffed.

So back into the store I go
For my tale of substitute woe
Where the clerk tries to smile
And I feel I’m in Kafka’s Trial.

Four nutcrackers

The guardians of tradition wait to ensure your every move is the right one.

O’ Christmas becomes a time surreal
When some dance and some kneel
And oftentimes my intentions digress
And I come out feeling less and less.

As the stories of Christmas past
Tell tales of deeds that truly last.
Try as I might, I come to the day
Watching the show now on display

And feel as the tree tops glisten
And children listen, that I am missing
A moment of my own to clasp,
Something sweet and ethereal to last.

For it’s those moments ill-defined,
When a smile is given un-timed,
When the heart is opened to the moment,
That the soul finds console-ment

That this season means more than here
And those people you wish to hold dear
Find their place and their own rhyme
In your heart, beating in a new time.

[Editor’s note: This poem was first published in a small publication in 2007.]

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December 21, 2012 · 3:48 pm

The blathering idiot and the end of days

The blathering idiot was thinking about the Mayan calendar, the supposed end of days soon to be at hand, and of his recent failed run for the highest office in the land and asked himself: What polka goes best with the end of time?

20121221-154752.jpg

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