Category Archives: Uncategorized

OH MY GOD.

People, if you have tartar sauce in your fridge and you’re not sure it’s good, please do not hold it up to your nose and sniff it to ascertain its viability.  If in doubt, throw it out.  Trust me on this.

Because it might smell like a syphilitic dragon with an anger disorder urinated radioactive turpentine onto a raging car fire outside an ammonia factory — right after a chemical warfare attack was waged nearby by the steaming Sulphur Men from Planet Terrible.  You get the picture.

This is an important tip.  I need to jot this down for that cookbook I’m working on.

Also, “the steaming Sulphur Men from Planet Terrible” is your writing prompt for tonight.  Go.

 

 

 

 

“Maternal Admiration,” William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1869

William-Adolphe_Bouguereau_(1825-1905)_-_Maternal_Admiration_(1869)

“The Last Performance,” by Thomas Hardy

“I am playing my oldest tunes,” declared she,
“All the old tunes I know,—
Those I learnt ever so long ago.”
—Why she should think just then she’d play them
Silence cloaks like snow.

When I returned from the town at nightfall
Notes continued to pour
As when I had left two hours before:
“It’s the very last time,” she said in closing;
“From now I play no more.”

A few morns onward found her fading,
And, as her life outflew,
I thought of her playing her tunes right through;
And I felt she had known of what was coming,
And wondered how she knew.

 

NPG 2929,Thomas Hardy,by William Strang
 

“All Souls’ Day,” Jakub Schikaneder, 1888

Oil on canvas.

Jakub_Schikaneder_-_All_Souls'_Day

“For poetry makes nothing happen …”

“… Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.
Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still,
For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives
In the valley of its making where executives
Would never want to tamper, flows on south
From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs,
Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives,
A way of happening, a mouth.”

— from W.H. Auden’s “In Memory of W.B. Yeats,” 1940

 

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Cover to “Superman vs. Aliens” #1, Dan Jurgens and Kevin Nowlan, 1995

DC Comics and Dark Horse Comics.

 

Superman_Aliens_Vol_1_1

Achtung, Nerdy.

Apparently some of my poetry readings were picked up by a video hosting site in Germany?  I … don’t know how any of this works, to be honest.  But it looks like the De-Visions platform borrowed a few readings from my Youtube account and then shared them in a different video format(?)

I honestly don’t mind.  Thanks for the exposure, De-Visions.

The readings include my interpretation of Philippe Atherton-Blenkiron’s superb “Operation Staffhound,” as well as Jenny S.’s readings of my poems.

Gonna write a bestselling romance novel.

Gonna be about a beautiful woman falling in love with a Montana horse rancher — although he has a debilitating cold and a sore throat.

Gonna call it The Hoarse Whisperer.

Am I brilliant or what?  Let’s take a vote — yea or neigh?  (Quit stallion.)

Hey, it can’t all be “A” material, alright?  And when you’re sick with a nasty cold, you write jokes like this.

Please — nobody tell me if this pun has been done before.  I’m tired of learning that time travelers are stealing my jokes and then posting them in the past.

And if you argue this joke is bad, then I demand equus time.

[Update: OMG, I kid you not — right after I posted this, I picked up a new WordPress follower named “Horst.”  You can’t make this stuff up, people. (And if you are reading this, my new German friend, I do not mean to offend you.)]

 

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“Diogenes,” Jules Bastien-Lepage, 1873

Oil on canvas.

Bastein-Lepage_Diogenes

“Crying, my little one, footsore and weary” by Christina Rosetti, 1893

Crying, my little one, footsore and weary?
  Fall asleep, pretty one, warm on my shoulder:
I must tramp on through the winter night dreary,
  While the snow falls on me colder and colder.

You are my one, and I have not another;
  Sleep soft, my darling, my trouble and treasure;
Sleep warm and soft in the arms of your mother,
  Dreaming of pretty things, dreaming of pleasure.

 
 

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