Trousered Ape

2012-01-07T12:44:00.001-05:00

An amazing and joyful story: The miraculous story of Claude Newman & his conversion through the intercession of the Virgin Mary.

(Hat tip to Maureen at Aliens in ths World).

2011-12-18T20:11:00.000-05:00

I have a question: If this poem is worth $50,000, then

WHERE ARE MY MILLIONS?

(Hat tip to Tim Blair.)

[Warning: linked poetry contains NSFW language.]

2011-12-16T22:00:00.002-05:00

Christopher Hitchens has died.

Absolve, O Lord, the souls of the faithful departed from every bond of sins. And by the help of Thy grace may they be enabled to escape the avenging judgment. And enjoy the bliss of everlasting light. Eternal rest give to them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them.

And let's keep praying.

2011-10-25T06:30:00.004-04:00

For 007 fans: If Blofeld's cat had acted like a cat...

CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY
Report of Audio Surveillance

Subject: Ernst Stavro Blofeld

Location: Blofeld’s office, SPECTRE HQ

[Extracts from transcript of recording dated 9/2/1965.]

8:30 am
(Door opens and closes. Footsteps. Chair creaks. Click and buzz.)

Miss Bund, this is Blofeld. Please inform No. 17 that if he doesn’t keep the litter box cleaned regularly, he will be shot.

9:30 am
(Click and buzz.)

Miss Bund, please come in.

(Door opens and closes. Footsteps. Chair creaks.)

Take a letter Miss Bund – may I call you Irma? (Indistinct.) Thank you, my dear. Please call me Ernst. (Cough.) Please take a letter, Irma. (Cough.) “To Herr Dietrich von Vogelsang, 63 Adlerstrasse, Hamburg. Dear Dietrich. I must complain about the quality of the Centauri-Q nerve gas received from you last month. Your catalog clearly states that a 98% mortality is guaranteed. In trials, I have found that – “ (Distressed meow.) Fluffy, how many times have I told you to stay out of the potted upas tree? You always get stuck at the top. Miss Bund – Irma – could you please get Fluffy out of the tree? (Chair creaks. Footsteps. Leaves rustling, cat hissing, female shriek, thud.) Fluffy! Are you all right, kitty? (Footsteps, door slams.) Did the nasty bad woman drop you?

9:45 am
(Click and buzz.)

Irma – Miss Bund – Fluffy is very sorry for what she did – I hope it’s not too painful. When Colonel Similov arrives, please show him in at once. Bulgarians are so impa- (Water splashing) Fluffy! Get out of there! (Water splashing.) Do you know how much I paid for those piranhas?

10:15 am
(Sound of sneeze.) I’m very sorry, Colonel Similov. (Sound of sneeze.) I should have warned you. (Sound of sneeze.) I had no idea you were allergic to cats. (Sound of sneeze.) Shall we meet at your hotel later? (Sound of sneeze.) Or better yet, just call me. (Sound of sneeze. Footsteps. Sound of sneeze. Door opens, closes.)

11:00 am
(Click and buzz.)

Miss Bund, please get me the plans of the Chinese Embassy in Cairo. (Indistinct.) Are you sure? They’re not on the work table. (Indistinct.) Very well, I’ll look again. (Click. Chair creaks. Footsteps.) Strange, Irma – Miss Bund – is usually reliable – Oh, here they are on the floor. (Paper rustles.) Fluffy, must you burrow into my secret papers? (Paper rustles louder. Cat hissing; paper tearing. Footsteps, chair creaks, click and buzz.) Miss Bund, do we have copies of the Chinese Embassy plans?

1:30 pm
(Door opens and closes. Footsteps. Chair creaks.)

Welcome back, No. 5. I trust the mission to Siberia was successful? (Indistinct.) Good, good – let’s see your report…Yes, yes, excellent. (Indistinct.) My dear woman, you do look warm. Please, feel free to take off your coat – just lay it on the desk – goodness, is that real sable? (Indistinct.) Now, you say we can hijack a plutonium shipment from the reactor at Nizhneyansk? (Soft thud; sound of cat retching.) Fluffy! On the floor! On the floor, not on the – FLUFFY!!

1:35 pm
(Click and buzz.)

Miss Bund, please contact Jacques Le Tigre and arrange a burglary at the best furrier in Paris.

2:00 pm
(Door opens and closes. Footsteps. Chair creaks.)

Ah, Professor Tokugawa. How are the gadgets coming? – we mustn’t let MI5 have all the fun, eh? (Indistinct.) A vest-pocket arsenal, you say? Well, let’s have a look – flamethrower, good…mini-rocket, excellent…tear-gas pen – (Thud; scraping and rattling.) Fluffy, those are not toys. Fluffy, leave them alone! (Tinkle, sound of escaping gas. Loud coughing, rapid footsteps. Door opens and slams.)

7:00 pm
(Door opens and closes. Footsteps. Chair creaks.)

Well, Fluffy, the office has been aired out and we can have a nice quiet evening together. (Purring.) Yes, who’s a pretty girl then? Who’s a sweet little Fluffy? (Telephone rings.) Hello, Blofeld here. Dr. Smithers! Are Fluffy’s tests back? Really? Are you sure? (Hanging up.) Fluffy, Fluffy, what have you been up to when I wasn’t looking? (Sound of dialing.) Hello, is this Mayfair 6317? Good evening James, this is Ernst…Calm down James, this is a social call…No, of course, no hard feelings about last time…James? (Throat clearing.) How would you like a kitten for Christmas?

2011-09-22T06:01:00.002-04:00

Dad went to God early yesterday afternoon.

Absolve, O Lord, the souls of the faithful departed from every bond of sins. And by the help of Thy grace may they be enabled to escape the avenging judgment. And enjoy the bliss of everlasting light. Eternal rest give to them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them.

All things have their season, and in their times all things pass under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what has been planted.
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to destroy, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather; a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak.
A time of love, and a time of hatred; a time of war, and a time of peace.
- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.

2011-09-18T09:27:00.002-04:00

We could really use your prayers now. Dad will be going soon.

2011-09-18T09:25:00.000-04:00

Please note the new email address; the old one got hacked and I have terminated it.

2011-09-14T07:35:00.002-04:00

Please, we need more prayers. Dad's back in the hospital after a stroke, and is now in the ICU.

Thanks and God bless you.

2011-09-01T20:36:00.002-04:00

Some more nescopecks*:

I drove my car to Orangeville,
And rolled it down a rocky hill.
I saw a lawyer and made a will,
Leaving the wreck to Orangeville.

Oh, do not go to Burlington,
Where dire deeds are daily done,
In dark of night, in blaze of sun -
Beware, beware of Burlington!

Oh, in the town of Hackensack
They manufacture bric-a-brac,
So if your knick must have a knack,
Then hurry off to Hackensack.

If you should go to Baltimore,
Keep tightly leashed the dogs of war:
They do not go for guns and gore
In peaceful, pastoral Baltimore.

A useful tip: In Liverpool,
Politeness is their iron rule;
You may be challenged to a duel
If you don't say "Please" in Liverpool.

Once on a time in Timbuctoo,
A young man faced and bravely slew
A gnashing, grinning, grisly grue,
Lifting a bane from Timbuctoo.

When last I was in Samarkand,
I found myself on every hand
Beset by foes - a dreadful band -
I shan't return to Samarkand.

* So called because the first one I ever composed was about Nescopeck, a small town in Pennsylvania (Orangeville is another - we drive through them when visiting my parents). However, since it was (a) only mildly funny and (b) unnecessarily derogatory, I have suppressed it permanently.

2011-08-24T09:10:00.003-04:00

At Korrektiv: The word of the day is… PARTHENOGENESIS. Assignment: Use as the last word on the first (fourth and seventh) line of a triolet.

My entry:

Oh, Father - No father! Damn parthenogenesis!
Taken forever, a most precious tie.
Denied the advantages, pluses, and benefits
Of having a father! For parthenogenesis,
A book full of curses! Just pick one, for any fits.
Crying for justice, in vain do I cry.
Each Father's Day blank - thanks to parthenogenesis,
I never can give him a most precious tie.

UPDATE 08/29/2011, 7:03 AM:

Remarks having been passed in the comments at Korrektiv, questioning the competence of some of the entrants, including me, I have thrown a conniption there, and shown that I can write a properly-formed triolet if necessary:

Fatherless, feminist parthenogenesis:
Dark and mysterious instrumentality
Of lonely and cold generation; oh, whence come this
Fatherless, feminist parthenogenesis?
From some misandrous and grim-humored Nemesis
Down upon man falls this fatal finality:
Fatherless, feminist parthenogenesis,
Dark and mysterious instrumentality.

UPDATE 08/30/2011, 6:46 AM:

I misunderstood the remarks and my conniption was entirely unjustified. I have apologized at Korrektiv, and apologize here for creating a wrong impression.

(Also, in case anyone hasn't noticed, there is a typo in the second triolet: "come" in line 3 should, obviously, be "comes".)

2011-08-22T08:35:00.000-04:00

The Authoress starts college today.

2011-08-12T18:19:00.002-04:00

Thanks to everyone who put up prayers. Dad is home again, and doing as well as can be expected, and Mom is hanging in there. We (that is, their children) visit them whenever possible to help out; something to be said for having a large family - there's 9 of us. Continued prayers would be greatly appreciated, as, while they're both in good shape for their ages, still Dad will be 88 next month and Mom will be 82.

God bless you.

2011-07-14T16:49:00.003-04:00

If anyone is still stopping by, prayers for my father, who is recovering from surgery, would be welcome; also, for my mother.

Thanks and God bless you.

2011-05-08T11:30:00.001-04:00

Just stumbled across a couple of entertaining videos at Romish Internet Graffiti.

2011-04-26T07:38:00.002-04:00

Still too busy to compose, but do have to mark another year. This is the 7th anniversary of the inception of Trousered Ape, and also my 55th birthday.

I would like to thank everyone who, over the years, has visited here, or noted something I have posted. I am very glad to have, now and then, put up something that turns out to have been worth reading; I hope to be able to continue doing so.

A clerihew:

Bob the Ape
Got into a sad scrape:
For, as though 'twere under a curse,
His blog went from bad to verse.

(I know, an old, cheap, and overused - 57,300 results in a Google search - pun.)

2011-04-04T06:36:00.002-04:00

Randomness:

In that cranky old reprobate, Scrooge,
Greed of gain grew appallingly huge;
But he gave up the vice
When he learned of its price
From three spirits and Marley, their stooge.

A meek, mild doctor named Crippen
Had a wife - by George, she was a pippin!
She grew so evil-tempered
That she wound up dismembered,
His lid having finally gone flipping.

Dead Cthulhu send dreams, loud and clear,
From R'lyeh: he says, "Things are dull here.
I'd like to get drunk,
But my city is sunk,
And the water gets into the beer."

Autobiographical notes:

A paranoid pessimist, I,
Who sees, with a vision awry,
Dark shadows of doom
On every side loom,
That evaporate as they draw nigh.

I'm no poet (as you may surmise) -
The Muse all my genius supplies.
Approaching each lyric
By method empiric,
I find it a total surprise.

2011-03-11T06:44:00.000-05:00

I'm still around, but very very busy.

The Curt Jester reminds us that capybara can be eaten on days of abstinence:

Can someone tell how to prepare a
Divine, cordon bleu capybara?
Is it breaded or glazed,
Roasted, boiled, or braised,
Served with ice cream or sauce marinara?

If Jane Austen had been really really lazy:

Proud Darcy proposed, got rejected;
Then prejudiced Lizzy reflected.
Thanks to Wickham's and Lydia's
Conduct invidious,
Romance was renewed and perfected.

If Robert Louis Stevenson had been really really lazy:

Doctor Jekyll, in thrall to his notion,
Compounded and swallowed the potion,
Setting free Mister Hyde -
Who'd been lurking inside -
And causing no end of commotion.

2010-12-07T20:11:00.004-05:00

Recently, at For Keat’s Sake, the gracious and scholarly Meredith posted a list of poetry “Do”s and “Don’t”s. The list was not completely serious, but here it is:

Do:     shard
Don’t:     [see note]
Do:     a murder of crows
Don’t:     a reefer of banana slugs
Do:     optative
Don’t:     gerundive
Do:     friable
Don’t:     chicken-fryable
Do:     allusions to pop culture
Don’t:     allusions to genre fiction
Do:     poems incomprehensible to anyone but English professors
Don’t:      poems incomprehensible to anyone but Classics professors

[Note: Meredith’s “Don’t” here was an old and perfectly good Anglo-Saxon word; unfortunately, when I Googled it to discover its meaning, I found it had been adopted as urban slang for something extraordinarily disgusting, so I omit it.]

As might have been expected, this inspired a bit of silliness using all the “Don’t”s. (At Meredith’s suggestion, I employed a couple of other Anglo-Saxon words, hopefully suitable obscure and obsolete.)

A SCRIBBLER’S LAMENT

The poets’ tithingman stands forth and bids me go away;
He will not give me frankpledge, for he fears lest they should pay;
But ere I go, I’ll tell you why, in this lamenting lay.

* * *

When first I sought to woo the Muse, I thought that we would spark:
She, beautiful and spirited, and I, as dashing, dark
And handsome as an Earl or Marquess of the Regency.

Sure, we’d meet and sizzle, then the game would be afoot:
Rejection, fear, ambivalence, desire, flight, pursuit,
And all at last resolvéd in romantic harmony.

Alas, such bliss was not to be – in folly had I dreamt.
She said, “You are a scribbler, a lout beneath contempt,
Your wooing is presumption and your poesy absurd:

“Comprising bloated ego and self-confidence unfounded,
Vocabulary limited and ignorance unbounded;
You damn yourself whene’er you dare to pen a single word.

“The pain your verse occasions me is very nearly tactile,
You don’t know a gerundive from a comma or a dactyl:
The way you mangle prosody and syntax is a crime.”

My eyes grew wet with tears at this, my cheeks grew red as flame,
A chicken could be fried on me, so burning was my shame;
My soul crawled like a reefer of banana slugs in slime.

Απο του Κυκλωπος φοβω εφευγε Οδυσσευς;
In Aegyptam effugens, necatus est Pompeius;
I fled and prayed in vain to be engulfed in some abyss…

So now I seek her harlot kin in dives low and unclean;
We quaff the cheap Pierian and watered Hippocrene;
And from our loveless union issues doggerel like this.

2010-12-01T08:15:00.001-05:00

Hat tip to Julie D. at Happy Catholic for this meme:

The Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. List, in no particular order) fifteen authors (poets included) who've influenced you and that will always stick with you. List the first fifteen you can recall in no more than fifteen minutes.

My 15

Isaac Asimov
Jane Austen
G. K. Chesterton
Agatha Christie
Dante (Dorothy Sayers translation)
Charles Dickens
Shelby Foote (The Civil War)
Homer (Robert Fitzgerald translation)
C. S. Lewis
Ogden Nash
Patrick O'Brian
Mervyn Peake (Gormenghast)
Edgar Allan Poe
Dorothy Sayers
J. R. R. Tolkien

There are others, but the rules say 15.

But this is my blog and I can do what I like. So I will add (staying within the 15-minute limit):

W. S. Gilbert
H. P. Lovecraft
William Shakespeare
Dell Shannon
Jules Verne

2010-11-24T20:48:00.003-05:00

A squib from many, many years ago, reworked and expanded:

REFRAIN:

Grandma got done over by the turkeys;
Death has filled her family with dismay.
Don’t incur the vengeful wrath of turkeys:
They’ll come and ruin your Thanksgiving Day.

I.

Grandma’s phobia of turkeys
Dated from her infancy,
When a turkey bit her mother,
And the shrieks were mixed with gobblings of glee.

So, in psychic compensation,
Grandma swore to kill them all.
Sane from Christmas through October,
Came November, she was bitterness and gall.

REFRAIN: Grandma got, etc.

II.

Then she got her knives and cleavers;
Made them shiny, sharp, and keen;
Perpetrated wholesale slaughter;
Didn’t rest until she’d picked the corpses clean.

Though her deeds made us uneasy,
No one dared a word out loud –
Cousin Belle once hinted faintly:
Now she plays her golden harp upon a cloud.

REFRAIN: Grandma got, etc.

III.

But the turkeys got together
And devised a cunning plan,
Put it into execution,
And that was the end of our bloodthirsty Gran.

Not a single clue or footprint
Showed us why she lay there dead.
Still, we know it was the turkeys:
For her head was gone and she was stuffed with bread.

REFRAIN: Grandma got, etc.

2010-11-03T07:35:00.007-04:00

Election results:

(Image by David Malki ! of Wondermark, who is not responsible for the use I have made of it.)

2010-10-09T10:34:00.002-04:00

What is it with our overlords and would-be overlords? The 10:10 commerical may have been more horrible, but I think this one is creepier.

(Hat tip to John C. Wright.)

2010-10-04T20:48:00.002-04:00

One James E. Tokley, Poet Laureate of the City of Tampa (I'm not kidding), has penned an ode to Governor Charlie Crist of Florida, Republican-turned-independent candidate for the U. S. Senate. The opening (you can read the whole thing - really! - at Governor Crist's own campaign website):

What Party is Democracy
And by what other name
May the Friends of this Republic
Reconstruct the name they claim?
What politic shall we ascribe
To the words of F. Scott Key,
When he awoke to find that our
new nation was still free?

The spirit of William Topaz McGonagall lives!

(Hat tip to Battle '10 at National Review Online.)

2010-10-01T18:32:00.003-04:00

The following attempt at humorous persuasion is the most EPIC FAIL since...oh, forever.

[CONTENT ADVISORY - Do NOT watch this if you are a normal, decent person. Seriously.]

(Hat tip - I guess - to Christopher Johnson at Midwest Conservative Journal.)

2010-09-30T22:14:00.002-04:00

We now return to our regular program of silliness, as we present a tale with no moral at all:

Bad Bobby was sent to a school
Where the diet consisted of gruel,
And brutal correction
Was not the exception,
But rather the general rule.

Bad Bobby was rid on a rail
Out of Heidelberg, Oxford, and Yale:
At each seat of learning,
They found he was turning
A profit from crib sheets for sale.

Bad Bobby came home from Australia,
His hoped-for redemption a failure:
He had given his labors
To relieving his neighbors
Of their costliest paraphernalia.

Bad Bobby, in smuggling vein,
Having stuffed several tons of cocaine
In an elephant’s skin,
Brought it easily in,
For his passport read “A. Quatermain”.

Bad Bobby assembled a band
Of burglars, the best in the land;
Then swindled the lot
Of the swag that they got,
And departed for far Samarkand.

Bad Bobby, the hired assassin,
Did many a lad and a lass in:
His victims he’d lure,
And bind, and immure;
Then he’d turn the valve letting the gas in.

Bad Bobby was sentenced to hang
Along with the rest of his gang;
But he broke from his cell,
Disappeared down a well,
And turned up as a tout in Penang.

Bad Bobby again lay in prison,
Confined on well-founded suspicion
Of, with a sharp blade,
On the scullery maid
Performing a lethal incision.

Bad Bobby, in direst straits,
His thread finally cut by the Fates,
Pulled his last and best trick,
Fooled and fuddled Old Nick,
Dodged St. Peter, and slipped through the Gates.

2010-09-15T19:28:00.002-04:00

I must not let today pass without noting that it has been exactly twenty years since I did the second smartest thing I have done in my entire life, namely, marrying the woman who has been my friend, companion, supporter, solace, and lover ever since, and has let me be as much (to the best of my poor ability) for her.

Thank you, Lord, for bringing us together, for our love, for our marriage, and for blessing us with two such wonderful children.

(And the smartest? Taking up my cross and following Jesus Christ - what else?)

(And in case anyone thinks I'm dissing the Bride, she says the same; and I of her.)

2010-09-14T19:45:00.001-04:00

A recent post at Korrektiv dives into the stormy waters of that most contentious issue: what is the Catholic view of women in pants? In the comments, I make a contribution to the discussion:

Some Catholic men will look askance
At any woman wearing pants,
And mount a soapbox, take a stance,
And utter shrill, splenetic rants.
We hope God in His mercy grants
To each such man the grace to glance
Into his own heart, where, perchance,
He'll see his soul's misgovernance.

Which is responded to, and topped, by JOB, one of Korrektiv's bloggers:

Some Catholic women look askance
At men who dare to wear the pants,
Against their Feminazi stance
Of fevered brows and keening rants.
We hope these Clooneys, Laws and Grants
Will find it in their hearts to glance
Up skirts and down shirts, where, perchance,
They'll find womankind’s last romance.

I am honored to have inspired such a superb riposte.

2010-08-31T06:26:00.002-04:00

Composed while doing yard work:

"Virginia creeper!
You'll fare as did your namesake
At the hands of Grant!"

2010-08-27T05:51:00.002-04:00

3 A.M. - phone rings -
"The President? He's right here." -
You can't golf at night.

2010-07-03T09:53:00.002-04:00

On a serious note, we would be very grateful for prayers on behalf of my older brother Paul, who recently had unexpectedly to undergo triple-bypass surgery.

2010-07-03T09:48:00.003-04:00

Brilliantly hilarious:

Hat tip to LarryD at Acts of the Apostasy.

2010-07-03T09:00:00.001-04:00

This has got to be the stupidest thing said by a national Republican since "Rum, Romanism, and rebellion". If he isn't bounced, the GOP deserves to lose in November.

2010-07-03T06:26:00.000-04:00

Random thoughts, in two limericks and two haiku:

At salons and soirees I sit
Like a mooncalf and speak not a bit...
As homeward I make my way,
L'esprit de l'escalier
Pours out on me oceans of wit.

A lecher who trafficked in vice
Made known to his new bit of spice
His intentions in bed,
Whereupon the wench said,
"Eww, that doesn't sound very nice."

One has two daughters
Who populate one's bathroom
With naked Barbies.

Defenestration!
I would rather spell it,
Than undergo it.

2010-06-23T06:27:00.002-04:00

dylan gives us some poetry on the subject of coffee (that marvellous brew).

2010-06-23T06:18:00.002-04:00

Monday: we finish paying for the van we bought in 2007.
Tuesday: the rear axle breaks in half.
Life can be such a cliche.

Must give credit to six guardian angels: the Bride, our two children, and three of their friends were in the van on their way to a movie. The axle broke on a side street. One minute later and they would have been going 60 mph on Route 33.

2010-06-22T08:05:00.001-04:00

Denise Hunnell (of Catholic Matriarch) and her husband could use your prayers.

2010-06-13T19:57:00.000-04:00

And once again, I have overcome my habitual sloth and procrastination long enough to update my blogroll.

2010-06-13T07:05:00.002-04:00

A poem by the English writer Christopher "Kit" Smart:

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For having consider'd God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day's work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord's watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he's a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord's poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually--Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master's bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God's light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.

(Hat tip to Fr Longenecker at Standing on My Head.)

2010-05-19T20:39:00.012-04:00

This was written for The Authoress, who shares my taste both for slasher films and for Shakespeare...

THIRTEENTH NIGHT

WHAT YOU KILL

Dramatis Personae

.		.
.	Jason Andronicus	.	Agonist
.	Moros & Hippolyta	.	Counselors
.	Satyrus & Carnalia	.	ditto
.	Impudicus & Lascivia	.	ditto
.	Turpino & Bimbona	.	ditto
.	Ralph	.	A village lunatic
.	Harold	.	A clown
.	Constable	.	.
.	Chorus	.	.

.	.	.
ACT I
.
Scene 1: A forest; in the background, a lake.
.
Enter Chorus.
.
Chorus.	"O for a Muse of fire that would ascend The brightest Heaven of in–" Oops, wrong play. Today, no grand historic spectacle, Nor tragedy of somber awful depth, Nor witty comedy – Instead, we have A festival of slaughter and cheap gore, In course of which, my task will be, at times, To explicate an incoherent plot, Centered on the shadowed figure of A hero, villain, monster: three-in-one, Who soon our stage with bloodshed shall imbrue. Jason Andronicus: speak, it is your cue!
.
Enter Jason Andronicus.
.
Jason A.	Before my second lustrum had run out, I ventured forth in waters deep to swim, Though ignorant of natatory art. I trusted in the vigilance and care Of two appointed guardians; this pair Proved faithless to their trust and stole away To play in wantonness; meantime the lake Crystal in name, but inky in its depths Engulfed me.
.
Chorus.	It was thought by all concerned That Jason – poor unfortunate! – had drowned, But – strange to say – the corpse was never found. His mother, unforgiving, took revenge Upon that thoughtless couple – with their lives They paid the price for his supposéd death.
.
Jason A.	Somehow I made my way back to the shore, My brain quite addled by th’experience; Somehow I made a life within this wood: Contrived a shelter, learned to stalk and snare And fill my stomach with warm blood and flesh. The wider world forgotten, in due time I grew a man – in years but not in mind. Waiting and watching was my life, but what I waited for, or why, I never knew.
.
Chorus.	By evil chance, or by malicious Fate Drawn thither, came a youthful covey, bound For camping, to the very lake and wood Where Jason lurked; and where nearby still lived She who had given birth to him and mourned His death. The coming of this careless band Aroused in her chaotic fleeting thoughts: "He’s dead – he’s living – she must go to him – She must avenge him – how have they returned, Bearing still the burden of their guilt?"
.
Jason A.	My memory undimmed by passing years, I recognized her; in that moonlit night My maddened mother murd’rous mayhem made: She fancied she was striking down all those Whose negligence had brought about my death, As Ajax in his fury slaughtered sheep That he deludedly supposed to be Ulysses, Agamemnon, and the Greeks. Yet ere I could come forth and cry, “Mama! Your Jason lives!” and still her stormy rage, The one remaining of that feckless crew, That hellish vixen, cut the business short By cutting off my mother’s head – and so, For us no joyful meeting, only woe.
.
Exeunt.
.
ACT II
.
Scene 1: A village in New Jersey.
.
Enter Chorus.
.
Chorus.	And now the sequel (second, third, or fourth, It matters not, they vary ne’er a whit): Another hopeless, hapless, heedless lot Appears, to sport and wanton – and to die; For Jason is by filial duty sworn To carry on his mother’s bloody work.
.
Exit Chorus; enter Moros & Hippolyta, Satyrus & Carnalia, Impudicus & Lascivia, Turpino & Bimbona.
.
Moros.	Come, we must find the camp, and all prepare For opening – then, frolic without care.
.
Hippolyta.	Some passing chill brings goosebumps to my skin, Some strange foreboding quivers up my spine...
.
Satyrus.	From all such foolish fancies am I free; I think of nought but coming revelry!
.
Carnalia.	Aye, thinking on it warms my quickened heart; In revelry I’ll play no modest part!
.
Impudicus.	My thoughts turn to my fair Lascivia’s charms, And what we'll find when in each other’s arms.
.
Lascivia.	You are too froward, sir – think all you please: You may find I am nothing but a tease.
.
Turpino.	Here is much beer and wine – I shall drink deep And pass the night in sotted swinish sleep.
.
Bimbona.	So nothing shall we lack of what we need, I have with me a casket of fine weed.
.
Enter Ralph.
.
Moros.	Good sir, can you direct us how to take The road that straightest leads to Crystal Lake?
.
Ralph.	Oh, go not there! Blood drips upon the moon, Now hoots the owl, and now croaks the frog, The night wind howls and gibbers in the trees, The geese fly south though ‘tis Midsummer Eve, And butterflies, enraged, do peck at crows, And dogs and cats turn cartwheels in the street – By which grim portents I foresee that Death Has spread his spectral bony fingers out And clutches at you – Flee! Avaunt! Begone!
.
Turpino.	The fellow’s daft. Oh, bid him shut his trap. The camp is surely shown upon the map.
.
Enter Constable.
.
Constable.	Be off with you, who can see nought but doom!
.
Exit Ralph; also, Moros et al.
.
Constable.	And yet there is a pricking in my thumbs That tells me something is not right – oh, well, I‘ll sleep tonight, then with tomorrow’s sun, I’ll go and see if aught needs to be done.
.
Exit Constable.
.
Scene 2: A part of the forest.
.
Enter Harold.
.
Harold.	How came I here, to wander in this wood? It is no place for quips and merry japes.
.
Enter Jason A.; cuts Harold’s throat.
.
Jason A.	There lie, thou clown, and welter in thy blood. I slew thee but to try my hand; the task My mother left unfinished calls: I must Wreak vengeance on these counselors of lust.
.
Exit Jason A.
.
Scene 3. Another part of the forest.
.
Enter Satyrus.
.
Satyrus.	Carnalia! Oh sweet and spicy trull! Satyrus sweats most moistly with desire!
.
Enter Jason A.; stabs Satyrus.
.
Jason A.	Sweat thou no more – desire is cooled and done. Desire nothing but a grave and stone.
.
Exit Jason A.; enter Carnalia.
.
Carnalia.	Satyrus! Oh, what horrid thing is this? Carnalia now shall scream and run away.
.
Enter Jason A.; runs through Carnalia with a pitchfork.
.
Jason A.	Thy running days are over, nimble bitch – Lie still beside thy lover in the ditch.
.
Exit Jason A.
.
Scene 4. A bedroom in the lodge.
.
Enter Lascivia. Gets into bed.
.
Lascivia.	No longer teasing, now I long for him. Impudicus, I listen for your step.
.
Jason A. stabs her from beneath, through the bed; emerges.
.
Jason A.	Longing and listening alike are at an end. Patience! Impudicus shall soon attend.
.
Exit Jason A.; enter Impudicus.
.
Impudicus.	Equivocate no more! By Cupid’s bow, I swear your blissful body shall be mine!
.
Re-enter Jason A.; shoots an arrow into Impudicus’ heart.
.
Jason A.	Plain, unequivocal, let it be said: Two bodies, but no bliss, are in thy bed.
.
Exit Jason A.
.
Scene 5. A downstairs room in the lodge.
.
Enter Turpino, drunk.
.
Turpino.	Staggering, singing, so I make my way; Strong drink may rage, but I am cheerful still.
.
Enter Jason A.; impales Turpino on the poker.
.
Jason A.	Nor beer nor wine shalt thou in future drink: Slake thirst with bitter draughts from Styx’s brink.
.
Exit Jason A.; enter Bimbona, stoned.
.
Bimbona.	There are no words that can describe my dreams. How peaceful is the night, and loving-kind!
.
Re-enter Jason A.; buries an axe in Bimbona’s head.
.
Jason A.	Yea, sleep, dream on, beside thy sottish fellow – Malignant Death hath surely harshed thy mellow.
.
Exit Jason A.
.
ACT III
.
Scene 1: Outside the lodge.
.
Enter Moros & Hippolyta.
.
Moros.	This night has not gone on as I expected: Our several friends are brought to grisly deaths, And you and I remain – what shall we do? How can we ‘scape the gruesome fate in store?
.
Hippolyta.	Our surest safety lies in swiftest flight: Go now and fetch the car; I’ll pack our things; I would not wish to flee quite unprovided.
.
Exit Moros & Hippolyta, separately; enter Chorus.
.
Chorus.	Why will they never learn? To go alone When horror stalks you is flat foolishness!
.
Exit Chorus; re-enter Hippolyta, bearing bags, golf clubs, etc.
.
Hippolyta.	I wait, a-tremble; why does Moros take So long a time in going and returning? But hark! I hear the car! Here, Moros, here!
.
Enter the car. Jason A. gets out, carrying Moros’ head. Hippolyta screams and stumbles back and falls. Jason attacks her with a machete. Hippolyta reaches behind her, grasps a five-iron, and bats away the weapon; gets up and runs away.
.
Jason A.	Alas! My doom, my Nemesis is come: Again I must confront the Final Girl. For ‘tis my fate that if I fail to kill At once, th’intended victim grows in power And what she gains, I lose – so now begins The contest, which, I know, can only end With her victorious; but, as did Macbeth, Bear-like I fight. Oh, fickle goddess Chance, I pray you, help me knock stern Fate askance!
.
Scene 2: In the forest.
.
Enter Jason A. and Hippolyta. They fight; Hippolyta fells him lifeless to the earth.
.
Enter Chorus.
.
Chorus.	Now is the time to end this fiend for aye! Chop off his head and sever all his limbs, Consume them in a fierce and cleansing fire, And grind the ashes to the finest dust, And summon up a gale, a mighty blast, And hurl the dust straightway into its heart, That to the furthest corners of the globe, It may be scattered! No – she heeds me not, Spent, exhausted, stumbling away, As birds with joyful song announce the dawn; The Constable and Ralph arrive at last To take the heroine into their care And gather in and tally all the slain. And what of Jason?
.
Jason A. stands.
.
Jason A.	Here I stand, condemned To life eternal – how I curse my stars! Old Sisyphus was never such a drudge As I; more multiplying foes I face, Than mighty Hercules, when he went forth To battle with the Hydra; I would trade Place gladly with that other Jason, who Opposed himself to Cadmus’ earthborn men Sprung from the dragon’s teeth. A slave am I: I die to live again, I fall to rise, So bloody lucrative is this franchise.
.
* * * CURTAIN * * *

2010-05-04T06:10:00.000-04:00

The Authoress accidentally found this the other day: The Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey (in which the unfortunate moppets are brought - very briefly - to life).

2010-04-30T07:06:00.001-04:00

My kind of site: Godzilla Haiku.

(Hat tip to Fr. Powell at Domine, da mihi hanc aquam!.)

2010-04-26T22:24:00.002-04:00

Bloggiversary post:

Six years of blogging,
Of satire and silliness -
It's not been half bad.

And, of course, it's my birthday (#54).

2010-04-05T20:30:00.001-04:00

Upon the recent suggestion of a geographical catastrophe:

I trust that I speak without vanity,
When I cry, "We must halt this insanity!"
Who can view with aplomb
The inversion of Guam
Without horror? Oh! the humanity!

If Oscar Wilde had been really, really lazy:

A likely young fellow named Gray
Went to Hell in a curious way:
He appeared young and pure,
But behind a locked door
Was limned all his sin and decay.

Yes, my dreams are like this:

I waked, all a-tremble and livid,
From a nightmare appallingly vivid:
Cycling naked, at sea,
I was served tartan tea
By Jane Austen, who looked like a triffid.

2010-03-24T07:34:00.002-04:00

Benedict Arnold,
Step down. The new Number One:
"Pro-life" Bart Stupak.

2010-03-21T16:22:00.000-04:00

Blog comment boxes:
Seas, sailed by little Ahabs,
Each cursing his whale.

2010-02-28T08:52:00.001-05:00

In olden time, that great lord, Prospero,
A salon in his palace did maintain,
Where poet, wit, and sage could freely go,
And discourse airy or profound obtain.
A stranger, once, came to this gathering,
In smiling mask, through which no eye could reach;
Satires and epigrams, all sparkling
Like gems, he dropped into the sea of speech.
But, careless, he allowed the mask to slip
A trifle; one observed who stood nearby
And took occasion for an idle quip –
Then stood aghast – for with a shivering cry
The stranger fled, as one whose mask concealed
A truth too damnable to be revealed.

2010-02-27T07:27:00.001-05:00

I know a young fellow named Bates,
Whose manner, I grieve to say, grates:
When he's gloomy and glum,
He pretends to be Mum -
And oh! What a mess he creates!

2010-02-20T09:07:00.000-05:00

A mournful young girl from Nairobi,
As tears coursed like rain down her woebe-
Gone countenance, swore,
"I can't take any more!"
And retired to the desert of Gobi.

2010-02-03T17:52:00.000-05:00

Mr. John Hood, of the John Locke Foundation, has coined what may be the best epithet yet for Barack Obama, at least for Dune aficionados:

The Ersatz Haderach.

And the more I think about it, the funnier it gets.

(Hat tip to The Corner.)

2010-01-31T17:20:00.000-05:00

Fr. John Zuhlsdorf, at What Does the Prayer Really Say?, enlightens us as to the origin of the term "nova" to refer to a star newly appearing in the heavens.

He also tells us about the Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, who coined the term, and had a false nose and a pet moose (which got drunk and fell down the stairs - the moose, that is).

Which explains the origin of:

The Danish Astronomer and His Moose (a drinking song)

There once was a man named Tycho,
Whose nose was made of brass.
He strolled down the lane in the pouring rain,
And slipped in the mud and with a thud,
He fell down on his –
Astronomy! Astronomy!
Without the stars, where would we all be?

He had for a pet a great big moose,
That loved to eat the grass.
It got astray in a field of hay,
And stepped in a hole that was made by a mole,
And came down on its –
Astronomy! Astronomy!
Without the stars, where would we all be?

Now Tycho liked to gaze at stars
Through a magnifying glass.
He stared all night at the stars so bright,
Then came the dawn, he gave a yawn,
And tumbled on his –
Astronomy! Astronomy!
Without the stars, where would we all be?

He went out in his very best suit,
And returned with a lovely lass.
He thought with pride she would be his bride,
But she saw the moose and turned white as a goose,
And fell back on her –
Astronomy! Astronomy!
Without the stars, where would we all be?

So Tycho quarreled with the moose,
A dreadful fight, alas!
But they made it up o’er a foaming cup,
Or three or four, or even more,
Of right strong beer, which restored good cheer,
And they danced on the chairs, and tripped on the stairs,
And each fell on his –
Astronomy! Astronomy!
Without the stars, where would we all be?

2010-01-30T18:04:00.002-05:00

It started with a post at Darwin Catholic:

I'm darkly amused by the picture of a pro-abortion counter-protestor to the March For Life carrying a sign which says, "Won't Get Laid Without Roe v. Wade". Why, precisely, does the bearer think that anyone else should be worried by this?

In the comments, then, one Kyle R. Cupp opined, "Such rhythm, such rhyme! Her sign could start the chorus of a hit pop song."

Like waving catnip in front of a cat...

I’m a girl with great ambition,
Dreaming of a high position:
Who would date a quarterback, a movie star, a politician;
But they don’t get a chance
Of a glance
Into my pants
Unless they meet my one condition,
Which is:
They don’t get laid,
No they don’t get laid,
They don’t get laid without Roe v. Wade!

Chorus
Roe v. Wade
Must be obeyed!
Roe v. Wade
Can’t be betrayed!
Roe v. Wade
Must be obeyed!
Won’t get laid
Without Roe v. Wade!

I’m a girl whose heart just sings
When she’s given fancy things:
Like penthouse flats and charge accounts and furs and diamond rings;
But if you bluff
Don’t buy me stuff
It’s just too tough
Because I come with one small string
Attached:
You don’t get laid,
No you don’t get laid,
You don’t get laid without Roe v. Wade!

(Chorus)

Bridge
Roe v. Wade!
It’s the Constitutional solution.
Roe v. Wade!
It’s the emanation with elation.
Roe v. Wade!
Oh yeah, this penumbra’s got our number.
Roe v. Wade!
Got no maybe punished with a baby.

I’m a girl who’s really hot,
Who can give you such a lot;
So come dance with me, romance with me, oh babe, I’ll hit your spot.
But before I kiss
I tell you this:
You get no bliss
If you don’t keep this rule I’ve got.
I say:
I won’t be laid,
No I won’t be laid,
I won’t be laid without Roe v. Wade!

(Chorus)

(Note: In case it isn't clear, the above is intended as satire.)

2009-12-23T06:11:00.002-05:00

I was provoked (inadvertently) to this by a post from dylan, who asked:

Do you or some of your co-workers utilize -- I mean, use -- these jargonistic terms?

If Shakespeare had an MBA

The scene: The boardroom of Albion, Ltd., which has been losing market share to Harfleur et Cie. Enter management consultant Henry V. Plantagenet (played by Kenneth Branagh):

O Muse, reach out to me –we’ll synergize;
Auditors, patience, while I break down silos:
I’ll tee it up, like Nestor lord of Pylos,
And impact you with lore to utilize.
(Aside: I hope to manage expectations
Lest they discover that low-hanging fruit
Is all my learning – otherwise they’d boot
Me out and take offline my revelations.)
Develop a solution that’s full service!
Announce it: fling the news o’er every wall!
To the next level take it – should it fall,
Then circle back like any whirling dervish
And talk around it; do not knock or mock it.
(And don’t call me – I shall be out of pocket.)

2009-11-11T06:15:00.002-05:00

Hat tip to Creative Minority Report for this bit of news about one Roland Emmerich, filmmaker, and his most recent work, "2012":

For "2012," Emmerich set his sites on destroying the some biggest landmarks around the world, from Rome to Rio. But there's one place that Emmerich wanted to demolish but didn't: the Kaaba, the cube-shaped structure located in the center of Mecca. It's the focus of prayers and the site of the Hajj, the biggest, most important pilgrimage in Islam.

"Well, I wanted to do that, I have to admit," the filmmaker told scifiwire.com. "But my co-writer Harald [Kloser] said, 'I will not have a fatwa on my head because of a movie.' And he was right."

Emmerich went on: "We have to all, in the western world, think about this. You can actually let Christian symbols fall apart, but if you would do this with [an] Arab symbol, you would have ... a fatwa, and that sounds a little bit like what the state of this world is. So it's just something which I kind of didn't [think] was [an] important element, anyway, in the film, so I kind of left it out."

It makes me want to sing...sing...sing!

Bravely bold Sir Roland
Made films in Hollywood.
He was not afraid of Christians,
O brave Sir Roland.
He was not afraid of a bishop or a Pope,
Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Roland!

He was not in the least bit scared of a ruler-wielding nun,
To see a crucifix, or to smell the incense,
To hear Gregorian chant, or a Rosary or two,
To get splashed with holy water, brave Sir Roland!

Though the Catholics prayed that he might be saved
And the Calvinists said he was quite depraved
And the Amish laughed and the Lutherans wept
And the Methodists sang and the Anglicans slept,
He said, "I shan't ever change my tune!"
And he dropped his trous--

But...

Brave Sir Roland ran away,
Bravely ran away, away!
To dodge a fatwa on his head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled.
He took, when faced with Moslem wrath,
A most courageous rearward path.
They searched for him in vain, for he
Had donned a burka gallantly.
Bravest of the brave, Sir Roland!

He’d wreck Jesus in Rio with bombastic brio,
And crumple the Vatican just to show that he can –
But dare him to clobber the most holy Kaaba:
You'll see his brave embrace of dhimmitude!

2009-11-10T08:21:00.000-05:00

The vortex of vacuity
Has got me in its grip -
My life is all fatuity
And I a dreary drip.
I'll give a large gratuity
(In other words, a tip)
To him whose great acuity
Can end my losership.

(Hat tip to LarryD for the phrase "vortex of vacuity".)

2009-10-12T06:40:00.000-04:00

Some heavy-duty prayers are needed for Pansy Moss and her children. Some material support would not come amiss either.

It would be a good idea to pray for Mr. Moss also.

2009-10-09T07:54:00.000-04:00

And then he gets the Nobel Prize. Honestly, how can satire keep up with this guy?

2009-10-06T19:29:00.004-04:00

I was actually toying with this idea (based on George Will's comment, "Unhappy will be a president whose defining adjective is 'vain.'") before The Corner thought of it.

You walked into the White House,
Leaving your unicorn parked outside.
The razor-sharp crease in your pants set off
The shapely toned arms of your bride.
And every leg was tingling
At the hope and change in your stride;
And everyone dreamed that you’d pay off their mortgage –
Pay off their mortgage, and

You're so vain
You probably think this country’s about you;
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this country’s about you -
Don't you? Don't you?

The nation had elected you,
Though no one knew quite where you stood.
You said that you were for peace and love
And everything that was good.
The press refused to question you
And nobody thought that they should;
All that they did was blow clouds full of incense –
Clouds full of incense, and

You're so vain, etc.

Well, we heard that you passed a big stimulus bill
And saved ninety-nine billion jobs.
Then you flew Air Force One off to Copenhagen
And wowed all of those IOC nobs.
And your health care plan will surely pass
In spite of those tea party mobs.
We’re gonna give you a new teleprompter –
New teleprompter, and

You're so vain, etc.

2009-09-16T06:50:00.001-04:00

The idea came into my head.
The Muse told me to do something with it.
I did.
One does not disobey the Muse.

I saw her dancing in a glade,
Through a summer morning's haze.
Rapt, she moved through light and shade
With unhurried rhythmic grace.
Strange that I should be entranced,
Being but a boy in years,
When I saw the girl who danced
To the music of the spheres.

Years passed; then by a sunlit sea
I saw her, veiled in sparkling spray,
Dance to cosmic harmony.
Love infused my being that day –
Love unflawed, no mere romancing,
Love beyond all hopes and fears –
For the girl forever dancing
To the music of the spheres.

I knelt and laid my heart before her –
She danced away and left it lying.
I stammered, trying to implore her –
She looked at me and smiled, replying,
"Only he who understands,
Only he who clearly hears,
Only he may join my dance
To the music of the spheres."

And my life is spent pursuing
Her to whom my love is lost,
Not regretting, never ruing,
Counting neither time nor cost,
Praying God, or fate, or chance
To open my unhearing ears,
So that with her I may dance
To the music of the spheres.

2009-08-26T05:17:00.001-04:00

Senator Edward Kennedy has died.

Rest eternal grant him, O Lord; and let light perpetual shine upon him.

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

2009-08-19T17:24:00.002-04:00

Red Cardigan, the gracious and talented hostess of And Sometimes Tea, recently coined an irresistible phrase: "strange religious xylophones". She bears no responsibility for what I've done with it:

The tinny, ticklish, tinkling tones of strange religious xylophones
Come wafting faintly to my ears from mystic regions far away.
How sharp a lance to pierce my soul that tintinnabulation hones,
Those holy and unholy tones from strange religious xylophones,
That echo forth from distant realms where seated on majestic thrones
Such daemon deities as Cthulhu, Bast, and Kalzibah hold sway.
Sweet agony! The eldritch tones of strange religious xylophones
Have raptured forth my soul to wander mystic regions far away.

2009-07-01T06:15:00.002-04:00

The national anthem of R'lyeh has finally been written:

Alas, I cannot share this with my family because none of them is familiar with H. P. Lovecraft.

(Hat tip to The Sci-Fi Catholic.)

2009-06-27T17:56:00.001-04:00

The Gov thought the grass there was greener,
So he gadded to gay Argentina;
But returned from that place
With much egg on his face
And a chastened (if not chaste) demeanor.

2009-06-17T07:06:00.003-04:00

Prayers urgently needed for Patrick O'Hannigan of The Paragraph Farmer and his daughter Jane. [Edited 6/21]

2009-06-01T09:54:00.000-04:00

I join with other pro-life bloggers in condemning, without hesitation and without qualification, the murder of abortionist George Tiller. There can be no justification whatsoever for such a shameful act.

2009-05-10T13:42:00.002-04:00

Of course, just because it's scary doesn't mean we can't have some fun with it...

(Enter three Leftist politicians.)

(1st)

I thought to make a peace
With my country’s enemies
(While proclaiming in disgust
That their enmity is just).
So I went to visit Fidel Castro,
Genuflected,
Kissed his beard –
Then some two-bit right-wing blogger said I was a disloyal traitor –
And his combox loudly cheered?!

(Others)

We know how to deal with his sort:
Take him straight to Federal court.
Testify with tears astream
How he hurt your self-esteem –
Off to Leavenworth he goes,
Bring his blogging to a close!

(2nd)

I thought to help the poor,
Make their livelihood secure
(Told them everything is free,
Told them all to vote for me).
So I introduced a bill to spend a
Million billion
Dollars more –
Then some no-name wingnut blogger said I tripled the national debt –
Set his combox in a roar?!

(Others)

We know how to deal with his sort:
Haul him into Federal court.
Beat your bosom, grieve and mourn,
Play the victim of his scorn –
Lock him tightly in the pen,
No more blogging for him then!

(3rd)

I’m a Catholic, well-acquainted
With the writings of the sainted
(In the Cliff Notes version, though,
Which I skimmed – once – long ago).
So I swore God had no problem with that
Great decision,
Roe v. Wade –
Then some Christofascist blogger said I spoke like an ignorant fool –
And his combox humbly prayed?!

(Others)

We know how to deal with his sort:
Drag him off to Federal court.
Rend your garments as a token
That your tender heart is broken –
Chains and shackles on him load,
Bloggers reap what they have sowed!

(All)

So, bloggers beware,
You’d better take care:
The gates of the prison are opening wide;
So watch what you say,
Don’t mock us, or they
Will close with a clang with the bloggers inside!

2009-05-09T07:26:00.002-04:00

Farewell to all the conservative blogosphere that isn't devoted to recipes and knitting patterns.

A bill, recently introduced in the House of Representatives by Linda Sanchez D CA-39, would make it the law that

Whoever transmits in interstate or foreign commerce any communication, with the intent to coerce, intimidate, harass, or cause substantial emotional distress to a person, using electronic means to support severe, repeated, and hostile behavior, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than two years, or both.

The purported intent of this bill is to outlaw "cyber-bullying"; but, should it be enacted, look for many of politicians and bureaucrats of a Leftish persuasion to develop an exquisite susceptibility to emotional distress when severely and repeatedly criticized.

The bill has 14 co-sponsers who, along with Rep. Sanchez, should be subjected (within the bounds of charity) to as much severe and hostile emotional distress as possible, while it's still permissible:

Marcy Kaptur D OH-09
John Yarmuth D KY-03
Lucille Roybal-Allard D CA-34
Lois Capps D CA-23
Timothy Bishop D NY-01
Bruce Bradley D IA-01
Raul Gijalva D AZ-07
Phil Hare D IL-17
Brian Higgins D NY-27
William Clay D MO-01
John Sarbanes D MD-03
Danny Davis D IL-17
Joe Courtney D CT-02

and the fig leaf:

Mark Kirk R IL-10

(Hat tip to the Media Blog at NRO.)

2009-05-01T19:23:00.002-04:00

My bishop, the Most Rev. Edward Cullen, D.D., Bishop of Allentown (God bless him!), has had the following published in the latest edition of the A.D. Times, the diocesan newspaper (unfortunately not, as far as I know, available online):

    In recent weeks I received a number of letters and telephone messages wanting to know my position on the University of Notre Dame’s decision to invite President Obama to speak at commencement and to award him an honorary degree.
    My response has been that the university’s decision is "disappointing" and "not in harmony" with a statement issued by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops in 2004 that said Catholic institutions should not honor those who act in defiance of Church teaching.
    In a letter recently made public, Notre Dame's president Father John Jenkins, C.S.C., has interpreted the USCCB statement as not applying in this case because President Obama is not Catholic.
    Bishop John D'Arcy of the Diocese of Fort Wayne-South Bend, where Notre Dame is located, has responded.
    He has written, "The document does not say Catholics [emphasis added] who act in defiance," but rather that Catholic institutions should not honor "those [emphasis added] who act in defiance of our fundamental moral principles."
    In the formulation of the document the word "those" was not restricted to Catholics.
    Bishop D'Arcy's letter also restates the teaching of Pope John Paul II, "support of other rights is false and illusory, if the right to life, the most basic and fundamental right and the condition for all other personal rights, is not defended with the maximum determination."
    As regards the interpretation of a document, Bishop D'Arcy states accurately, "When there is a doubt about the meaning of a document of the USCCB, where does one find an authentic interpretation? A fundamental, canonical and theological principle states that it is found in the local bishop, who is the teacher and law-giver in his diocese."
    I stand in solidarity with my brother bishop and share the sentiments that he expressed in his letter. As does he, I regret that this situation has taken place and call on the leadership at Notre Dame to face the issue squarely.

2009-04-26T18:19:00.002-04:00

Today is an anniversary (and my 53rd birthday).

Five years ago, today, this blog was born,
Named “Trousered Ape,” in self-directed scorn,
And launched out into cyberspace, although
It had no clear idea of where to go.
As time went by, this question was resolved,
For rapidly the blogosphere evolved:
By dozens, scores, and hundreds, blogs arose
On every side, practitioners of prose
Both eloquent and lively, each a source
Of wittily and wisely wrought discourse:
Of culture, politics, and family life;
Of movies, books, and theologic strife;
Some Helicon ascend and there make free
To dally with the Muse of poetry.
All this, I’ve learned, is far above my station:
My only gift is for versification.
I leave good writing to all those who can,
Forswear ambition to become a Man,
Pretend that Darwin’s Theory is a jape,
Write silly verses, and remain an Ape.

2009-04-09T18:49:00.002-04:00

Background: While we were driving home a couple of students from our homeschool co-op, they brought up the word "flocci-nauci-nihili-pilification" (I had heard of it – Patrick O’Brian uses it in Master and Commander - but was not familiar with its meaning). I looked it up when we got home, to settle a dispute about its spelling (I was right), after which one thing led to another...

"Flocci-
Nauci-
Nihilipilification,"
Is a word that tickles gently in the ear –
How I love the fizzy, tingling sensation,
Of that Latinate and polysyllabic sneer.

"Flocci-
Nauci-
Nihilipilification,"
Is a word that is not often in demand.
It may not be apt for every situation,
Still, you ought to have this word at your command.

Someday,
You may
Meet some feckless fellow who is
Good for nought except to scorn or denigrate –
If you do, you’ll know that all you need to do is
Flocci-nauci-nihilipilificate.

"Flocci-
Nauci-
Nihilipilification,"
Is a word that has that extra-special beat.
If you mix it with a little syncopation,
There’s no other word could ever sound as sweet.

(It sounded pretty good after the Bride, who is musical, improvised a catchy swing melody for it.)

2009-02-24T06:37:00.002-05:00

Last November, I stumbled across the picture of "A Soul in Purgatory", newly added at the right, at Catholic Culture (hat tip to dylan at his oft-rechristened blog (currently "dark speech upon the harp"). As I said at the time, "Lately I have been seeing a lot of references to the souls in Purgatory and the necessity of praying for them. I suspect Someone is hinting at me." Well, I did manage, some time later, to start including the souls in Purgatory in my prayers. And, slothful procrastinator that I am, I have after three months finally gotten around to putting up the picture.

2009-02-04T08:40:00.002-05:00

Michael Dubruiel, husband of Amy Welborn, has died suddenly.

Absolve, O Lord, the souls of the faithful departed from every bond of sins.

And by the help of Thy grace may they be enabled to escape the avenging judgment.

And enjoy the bliss of everlasting light.

Eternal rest give to them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them.

Please pray for Amy and their children.

2008-11-27T07:41:00.003-05:00

Must quote this story in its entirety:

Japanese man releases hundreds of worms in train

A Japanese man was arrested for releasing hundreds of beetle larvae inside a moving express train to try to scare female passengers, police said Tuesday.

"I wanted to see women get scared and shake their legs," police quoted 35-year-old Manabu Mizuta as saying.

He was arrested on the spot by a patrolling police officer after releasing the creatures on the Keihan line in Osaka prefecture.

"He would go close to women on the train, any woman, and pour out the worms from containers," said a police spokesman.

Local police had been on alert after 18 similar cases of released worms had been reported this month by the same train operator.

"When the arrest was made, the man had nearly emptied a container, which is believed to have held 200 worms," he said. "You cannot count them because there are so many."

Mizuta had 10 containers in his backpack estimated to contain a total of 3,600 worms, police said.

"We have the worms sitting inside the police station right now," the spokesman said. "You see them wriggling inside their clear cases. It's really disgusting."

Since it's from Japan, a haiku:

Larvae on a train:
Frightened women, shaking legs.
This is a turn-on?

(Hat tip to Kathy Shaidle at Five Feet of Fury.)

2008-11-05T05:52:00.001-05:00

God's will be done.
God help us.

2008-10-26T11:15:00.002-04:00

Just completed: a long overdue update of the blogroll. Some obsolete links have been removed and many new links to blogs of high quality have been added. Also links to venues of entertainment: Wondermark, by David Malki ! (he insists on the exclamation point), and Girl Genius, by Kaja Foglio.

2008-10-23T14:07:00.002-04:00

Noticed at Siris:

From the Vatican City website:

Even though Vatican City has no direct access to the sea, by virtue of the Barcelona Declaration of 1921, it is allowed to sail its own vessels flying the papal flag.

However, the Vatican does not avail itself of this right at this time.

I never thought that I should come so far
When I was an altar boy at St. Scholastica,
Where I bore a candle, laughed when Father joked,
And always kept the censer lit and fully stoked –
And I censed the church so odorously
That now I am the ruler of the Pope’s Navee.

‘Twas a short time after this that I became
The third-string quarterback at Notre Dame.
I sat on the bench and never made a call,
But I conned the playbook and I learned them all –
And my uniform fit so handsomely
That now I am the ruler of the Pope’s Navee.

It happened that I had a priestly vocation,
So I went for a seminary education.
I studied matters theological,
And ethical, canonical, spiritual –
And I lived so ecclesiastically
That now I am the ruler of the Pope’s Navee.

Next, having been well and rigorously trained,
I went to see the Bishop and I got ordained.
I was assigned to a church and a flock
Where sinfulness had burst its bounds and run amok –
I led them back to virtue so pastorally
That now I am the ruler of the Pope’s Navee.

I joined an order and I donned its habit
And I rose through the ranks to become an abbot.
I held each brother strictly to his vow
So not one looked backward after putting hand to plow –
And we hewed to the Rule so monastically
That now I am the ruler of the Pope’s Navee.

My reputation all the way to Rome having spread,
An episcopal miter was placed on my head.
My diocese with such anxious care was run
That I never excommunicated anyone –
Yes, it went so smoothly in my see
That now I am the ruler of the Pope’s Navee.

Fate now decreed for me more eclat:
His Holiness bestowed on me a Cardinal’s hat,
And ‘twas not all, for no sooner than
I learned to find my way about the Vatican,
He summoned a great consistory,
And named me as the ruler of the Pope’s Navee.

And this is the end of my recital,
“Praefectus Classis Pontificis” is my title.
I sail the seas with the Papal fleet
And any heretics I have the luck to meet
Are taken, sunk, burnt, or destroyed immediately –
It’s fun to be the ruler of the Pope’s Navee.

2008-09-22T06:02:00.002-04:00

Because I like the word “amaranth.” And because I haven’t posted anything purely silly for a while. With apologies to the late Gelett Burgess.

Oh, purple cow! (although to thus address
A creature not in past or present seen,
Or time to come, or time that might have been,
Is odd and somewhat awkward, I confess) –
Should I, inspired by caprice, now take
Thy bovine form and amaranthine hide,
As Jove in fable did, to win as bride
Europa, and his lust for her to slake?
Yet Jove turned bull, not cow; and though by fire
Of passion maddened, in his rash romance he
Did not blaze forth in violet or pansy,
And had the sense to eschew hue of Tyre.
So, cow notorious, though thy color be
Imperial, still I would not be thee.

2008-09-21T06:53:00.002-04:00

Meredith at For Keat’s Sake! tells us of a columnist at Salon, who, as they say, has issues with Sarah Palin:

To one Cintra of Salon, she is a "Christian Stepford wife in a 'sexy librarian' costume," "the White House bunny," a "sheep in ewe's clothing," and other things that I don't want to defile my blogspace wit.

She cites a theory that "approximately 80 percent of all decision making is done at the level of the limbic system -- our lowest, most colorless, reptilian emotional level." Which is to say: "Republican strategies are consistent with a belief that the voting process, for most people, is full of feelings -- but devoid of reason."

Well…

As we surge to the polls by the million,
To vote in a manner reptilian,
On the Left they shed tears,
Emit steam from their ears,
And turn amaranth, puce, and vermilion.

2008-09-17T05:14:00.002-04:00

WE ARE

BIBLIOPHIBIANS!

(Art by David Malki ! at Wondermark).

2008-09-12T22:11:00.002-04:00

At
Creative Minority Report (which I need to add to my blogroll soon), a story of some who march to a different drummer...and who have given themselves one of the BEST FREAKING TITLES EVER! HOW can you top...The International Council of Thirteen Indigenous Grandmothers?

2008-09-10T18:55:00.001-04:00

What he should have said:

"You can put arugula on hotel food, but it's still hotel food."

"You can wrap a terrorist in a cap and gown and call him a professor of English, but he'll still blow stuff up."

2008-09-07T05:23:00.003-04:00

From the way that the Leftists are railing
At Gubernatrix Sarah Palin,
It seems like they know
That the Story of O
May not, after all, be plain sailing.

2008-09-04T11:30:00.002-04:00

Seen at The Curt Jester:

Washington, DC (LifeNews.com) -- In an amazing admission, pro-abortion Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg told a feminist group that the basis for legalized abortion should be changed from the so-called right to privacy to the anti-slavery provisions found in the Constitution.

The more I think about this, the bigger it gets. It's not just that they're retreating (or, as George McClellan would put it, "changing their base"), it's that, after 35 years of wrapping themselves in Roe v. Wade as if it were the flag, the pro-abortion side - and not just any abortion rights supporter, but a Supreme Court Justice - is throwing it under the bus. For what was Roe v. Wade based on, if not the right to privacy? And if they don't care about the right to privacy, then who needs Roe v. Wade any more?

2008-09-04T11:27:00.001-04:00

A heartfelt THANK YOU! from the Bride and me to all who have been praying for us. The awkward situation has turned out to be far less awkward than we feared, and is safely on its way to a closure.

2008-08-10T09:10:00.000-04:00

First, and most important, thanks to everyone who took the time to say a prayer for my father. Dad is doing much better.

Second, thanks to the bloggers who enjoyed An Inconvenient Tragedy and said so, and to anyone else who just enjoyed it.

And third, the Bride and I could use some prayers: we find ourselves in an awkward situation; not irresolvable, but which requires patience, faith, and a good deal of humility to get through.

2008-06-16T21:41:00.009-04:00

In the news: Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth will be adapted into an opera. It is scheduled to appear at La Scala in Milan in 2011.

Why wait three years?

AN INCONVENIENT TRAGEDY

Cast of Characters

.		.
.	Prometheus	.	a Titan
.	Algor	.	an ambitious Spirit
.	Carbona Dioxida	.	an airy Spirit
.	Khi-Oto	.	an Oriental Sorcerer, servant to Algor
.	Skeptica	.	a Seeress
.	Consensus	.	a Judge
.	Helios	.	God of the Sun
.	Oscar	.	a Golem
.	Three Citizens
.	A Troupe of Polar Bears
.	A Figure representing Unnatural Heat

ACT I

.	.	.
Scene: A barren wasteland.
.
Prometheus enters, bearing a load of wood. He sets it on the ground and builds it into a pile.
.
Prometheus(recitative):	From Jove's bright realm have I come, bearing in secret a divine gift.
.
He sets fire to the wood.
.
Prometheus:	To Man, feeble and fleeting, Risking Jove's terrible ire, I give, for his future greatness, A spark of Heaven's fire. Though mortal, endowed with a touch Of divinity, he may aspire To mastery, sole and unchallenged, Of Earth's spacious gyre.
.
The flames shoot up and from them leaps Carbona Dioxida, a spirit of fair appearance. She dances about the stage; wherever she steps, shrubs and flowers appear.
.
Carbona Dioxida:	Oh, here is a marvel! Where'er I set foot Straightway there emerges A sapling or shoot. Bright flowers' shall vie With fair Iris's bow. And great oaks and pines Towards Heaven shall grow.
.
She continues her dance, breathing gently on each plant, which grows taller when she does so.
.
Enter Algor.
.
Algor (rec.):	Oh, rash Prometheus! Thy crime has not gone undetected! At great Jove's decree, I condemn thee to cruel and endless torment. Go - thy carceral rock awaits thee!
.
Exit Prometheus.
.
Algor (rec.):	Though Prometheus is banished, Jove still prefers others before me. Denied advancement on Olympus, I shall seek mastery on Earth.
.
He espies Carbona Dioxida.
.
Algor (rec.):	Here may be an instrument fit for my purpose.
.
(sings)	Oh spirit, need you rest content With twig and leaf and flower? Ally with me and we shall share The pinnacle of power. Comport yourself as I direct, Assist my enterprise: A golden harvest shall we reap As sure as sun shall rise.
.
Carbona Dioxida:	With much disquiet do your words Disturb my peaceful soul. Should I abandon all I have To seek a lofty goal? You sway me so to follow you, Bedazzling my eyes, That tangled deep within my breast Both dread and longing rise.
.
Algor:	Do not take counsel of your fear: It is a treach'rous guide. My wit and cunning, unsurpassed, In many ventures tried, Can nowise fail to bring success And all it may comprise. We will bestride this narrow Earth As sure as sun shall rise.
.
Duet:	(Algor)	(Carbona Dioxida)
.
.	She'll join with me and we shall share	I will abandon all and dare
.	A glittering golden prize.	To aid his enterprise.
.	The lure of riches and of power	Farewell to twig and leaf and flower...
.	Will always tantalize.	But is he telling lies?
.	An endless rain of wealth shall fall	Does he, behind his siren call,
.	Like manna from the skies,	Some subtle plot disguise?
.	When I attain to mastery,	No matter now, he masters me,
.	As sure as sun shall rise.	And bids me to arise.
.
At a gesture from Algor, Carbona Dioxida rises and comes to him, as one in a trance.
.
* * * CURTAIN * * *

ACT II

.	.	.
Scene: A city square.
.
Enter Skeptica; also Citizens, variously occupied. One pauses to contemplate a placard, headed "DANGER!", posted on a wall.
.
Citizen 1 (rec.):	News most alarming. A prophet will come to our city today, to warn us of a doom that will befall us if we do not heed him.
.
Citizen 2:	What can this portent mean? What danger lurks unseen? Oh, terror's breath is chill and keen!
.
Citizen 3:	Hark! With beating drums, The stranger this way comes; Fantastic rumor round him hums.
.
Enter Algor. He is accompanied by a Polar Bear in very sad condition: emaciated and limping, with patches of fur missing, and wearing an eyepatch.
.
Citizen 1:	Indeed, his mien is grave; A hero or a knave? Oh, does he come to damn or save?
.
Algor (rec.):	Good people, gather! A specter is haunting the land - a specter that will destroy you all, if you do not listen to my warning!
.
(sings)	As you, unknowing, go about your business, Disaster is at hand! A fiend impalpable, but fierce and deadly, Will devastate your land!
.
Skeptica:	Your tale is quite horrific in the telling, But why should it be true? I see your aura glow with fraud and falsehood; Why should we credit you?
.
Algor:	My word alone is not the only witness: Behold this wretched bear! He'll tell you how this fiend came to his homeland, And all that she did there!
.
Bear:	Life was peaceful, life was sweet, As upon the ice we lay From midwinter's endless night To midsummer's endless day. Naught, we thought, could e'er disturb This, our world of frost and rime, Then, this monster, in a flash Changed it to a tropic clime! By what sorcerous device This was done, we do not know. Yet the deed was done and now, Homeless through the world we go.
.
As the Bear sings, the stage darkens and a vision appears above, of the Polar Bears lying on their ice floe. They rise and dance a ballet. Suddenly, into their midst leaps a Figure clad in fiery garments and frightfully masked. It dances a flamenco with such force that one piece of the ice after another breaks off; each time precipitating a bear into the sea. This continues until the last bear is gone. The Figure raises its arms in triumph as clouds of steam erupt from the water.
.
As the vision fades, the Bear ducks into a curtained doorway and a moment later emerges as Khi-Oto, the sorcerer - recognizable because he is still wearing the eyepatch, and a ragged cloak of white fur.
.
Citizen 1 (rec.):	This tale is most convincing.
.
Citizen 2 (rec.):	Ask the stranger what we must do.
.
Citizen 3 (rec.):	Surely he can save us.
.
Skeptica (rec.):	Are we to be fooled by a mountebank and his performing bear? It is laughable!
.
Citizen 1 (rec.):	It does seem rather preposterous.
.
Citizen 2 (rec.):	What shall we do?
.
Citizen 3 (rec.):	We will ask the Judge for a ruling!
.
Exeunt all but Khi-Oto and Skeptica.
.
Skeptica:	Your cheap and shoddy trick did not deceive me. I'll show you for the faker that you are. Your master, too - you'll be condemned and banished, When comes the Judge and we are at the bar.
.
Khi-Oto raises his wand and points it at her.
.
Khi-Oto:	You mock my art unheedingly: I use no magic shoddily, Or dabble in cheap fakery. Your power of clairvoyancy Shall struggle unavailingly And fail before my sorcery. This spell I weave so cunningly Will render mute your stridency And bridle your loquacity. Unanswered, then, our perjury, And we'll rule all triumphantly!
.
Enter Consensus, in judicial robes, Algor, and Citizens.
.
Consensus:	This man has argued very well, And with such wit and sense, That no one hearing him can tell Of greater eloquence. But as my task perforce requires, I must hear a rebuttal, Or equity at once expires And justice is a muddle.
.
(rec.)	What have you to say? Can you refute him?
.
Skeptica, horrified, finds herself unable to speak. After a long and agonizing effort, she sinks to the ground in despair.
.
Consensus:	I shall my verdict now announce: Since no one did object, By rule of law I must pronounce That this man is correct.
.
Exit Consensus.
.
With a flash and puff of smoke, Carbona Dioxida, garbed and masked as the Figure in the vision, appears above. The Citizens cry out in terror.
.
Algor (rec.):	The monster is here! And now, for the worst: YOU have summoned her!
.
The Citizens cry out again.
.
Algor:	Every kettle set to boil, Every candle flame, Every fire that you kindle, Calls the creature's name! . Here she is, there's no escaping, She is here to stay. Only I know how to save you, Holding her at bay. . I will sell you certain cantrips, With a wondrous charm: They will offset all her evil, Keeping you from harm.
.
The Citizens, clamoring, flock to Algor and Khi-Oto, who produce amulets from a bag and trade each for a handful of gold.
.
* * * CURTAIN * * *

ACT III

.	.	.
At one side of the stage, the ornate facade of a palace. Before the palace is a beautiful garden, in the middle of which are a table and some chairs. In the background, an artificial waterfall flows into a pond; in the center of the pond, a more than life-size golden statue, in human form but featureless.
.
At the other side, the street outside the palace grounds. The two are separated by a low wall toward the street side.
.
Sitting at the curb of the street is Skeptica, reduced to poverty, in rags and holding a begging bowl.
.
At the table in the garden are Algor, Carbona Dioxida, and Khi-Oto, engaged in dividing up a great heap of coins. A jewel-encrusted goblet is at the elbow of each.
.
Carbona Dioxida:	You told me once, so long ago, That to us untold wealth would flow.
.
Algor:	Indeed, I did. You must aver, We're richer far than once we were.
.
Khi-Oto:	And still more wealth will come in time! I give a toast: success to crime!
.
They drink.
.
Carbona Dioxida:	The doubts I had, the deep dismay; How strange they seem to me today.
.
Algor:	Such foolish qualms, so seeming bold, Turn coward at the chink of gold.
.
Khi-Oto:	Aye, gold, that does not rot or rust, Or play you false. In gold I trust!
.
Carbona Dioxida:	But if someday the weather cools? They'll realize they were played for fools!
.
Algor:	No matter, we will spin a tale; My wit was never known to fail.
.
Khi-Oto:	We'll make a fuss, a great to-do, That cooling, too, is due to you!
.
Khi-Oto picks up a coin and holds it doubtfully in his hand, then bites it. With an air of disgust he starts to throw it away, then changes his mind. He goes out a gate in the wall and drops it into Skeptica's bowl. She looks up, sees Khi-Oto, and flings the coin back at him. In a sudden rage, he strikes her, knocking her to the ground, then goes back inside.
.
The Citizens gather about Skeptica. One helps her to rise; she immediately falls to her knees and stretches out her arms to Heaven in an attitude of prayer.
.
A blaze of light from above and Helios descends in his chariot.
.
Helios:	All Earth lies open to my piercing rays: How could I fail to see such cruelty Towards her who ever was my votaress, To whom I gave the gift of prophecy. So used, and so abused! That miscreant! Where'er he hides himself, I'll hunt him down, Convict him straightaway, and then, upon His evil life I'll set a fitting crown: Condemned forever hopelessly to dwell In agony in Hades' deepest Hell.
.
Citizen 1 (rec.):	I saw him flee into the palace!
.
Citizen 2 (rec.):	Avenge our sister!
.
Citizen 3 (rec.):	Destroy them all!
.
Helios strikes the wall, which crumbles away. He leads the crowd of Citizens into the palace garden, where Algor, Carbona Dioxida, and Khi-Oto, undaunted, await him.
.
Helios (rec.):	Come, evildoers, and receive your just punishment!
.
Khi-Oto strides forward and raises his wand.
.
Khi-Oto:	My art has such great potency That even your divinity Is subject to its mastery. I stand my ground defiantly Secure in my impunity. Now dims your luminosity, Where is your proud verbosity? Now kneel in all humility, Pay homage to my sovereignty!
.
Helios's light dims; he staggers and starts to kneel; then, with a mighty effort he recovers himself. He gestures, and with a flash and thunderclap Khi-Oto's wand breaks and the latter collapses to earth.
.
Khi-Oto (rec.):	Farewell, I am undone! Oh, master! (gasps) Remember the golem! (Dies.)
.
Helios:	And now for you, false lying tricksters both, Who prey on credulous simplicity: I shall make plain to these good people here That warm and cool belong of right to me. Heat and humidity pervade the air When I put forth my power day to day, But chill winds, bitter frost, and snow abound When I do dim myself and turn away. You two are guilty of the grossest frauds, Your vaunted cantrips naught but useless gauds!
.
Algor:	If this is true, our racket's through. Oh, this is very inconvenient.
.
Carbona Dioxida:	I quite agree. Come, let us flee. That seems to be the best expedient.
.
Algor:	No use in flight. He has such might. Perhaps we ought to be obedient.
.
Carbona Dioxida:	I do not dare. Oh, see him glare! I rather doubt he will be lenient.
.
Algor (rec.):	Wait! The golem! (Addresses the corpse of Khi-Oto) Oh, faithful servant, faithful even after death! (Commandingly) Golem, I summon thee! Do thou my bidding!
.
The golden statue in the pond comes to life, revealing itself to be Oscar, the golem. It closes and grapples with Helios and throws him to the ground.
.
Algor (shouting exultantly):	I swear to you, my truth SHALL prevail!
.
As Helios rises, Oscar strikes him down. Instantly, the lighting dims.
.
Skeptica, whose voice has returned with the death of Khi-Oto, rushes forward with a shriek.
.
Skeptica (rec.):	Oh, you fools, you fools! You have destroyed us all!
.
(sings)	Slain the Sun and Now departed Is the source of Life and light. Foolish people, Doomed forever To a dark and Frozen night. No more cattle In the meadow, No more harvest From the field. No more fish in Pond or river, Vines will no more Vintage yield. Fate appalling: Freezing, starving, Death shall come to Everyone. You will know the Sun's great power All the better When it's gone.
.
Skeptica falls dead over the body of Helios.
.
The Citizens exit, bearing the bodies of Helios and Skeptica; leaving Algor, Carbona Dioxida, and Oscar alone.
.
All the flowers in the garden turn brown and wither. The lighting turns to a cold blue and snow begins to fall. Carbona Dioxida attempts a few halting steps of the dance from Act I, breathing on the wilted flowers, but to no effect.
.
In the background appears Prometheus, chained to his rock; at the base of the rock lies his vulture, frozen to death.
.
At a gesture from Algor, Oscar goes to the rock and frees Prometheus. Meanwhile, Algor and Carbona Dioxida break the garden table and chairs to pieces and pile them center stage, adding some ornamentation torn from the palace facade. Prometheus comes forward, carrying the vulture's corpse. He gives it to Carbona Dioxida, who begins to pluck it as Prometheus sets fire to the pile and Algor erects a spit.
.
* * * CURTAIN * * *

2008-06-11T16:51:00.001-04:00

A monkey that's made out of brass
Sometimes comes to a perilous pass:
When the temperature's low,
Its appendages go,
Either one at a time or en masse.

2008-05-25T19:48:00.002-04:00

Graphjam: because there's so much time to waste.

Samples:

2008-05-22T06:53:00.002-04:00

Thanks for all your prayers. The pacemaker's in. Dad came home on Tuesday; the Authoress and I went to visit (the Bride and the Storm Queen both being under the weather) and he's feeling much better. We hope to visit again next weekend.

2008-05-18T19:12:00.002-04:00

To anyone who drops by: We would be very grateful for a word or two of prayer for my parents. Dad had been scheduled for a pacemaker later this month, but had to be taken to the ICU this weekend and they've moved up the installation to tomorrow. If all goes well he might be home on Tuesday. God's will be done. Thanks.

2008-05-17T15:28:00.002-04:00

From a story Civil War cannonball kills Virginia relic collector (hat tip to Irish Elk):

White's death...raised concerns about the dangers of other Civil War munitions that lie buried beneath old battlefields.

We're just getting over global warming and now we have to start worrying about this?

2008-05-11T07:10:00.001-04:00

Oh, have you been to Bethlehem,
Founded by Japhet, Ham, and Shem.
Whatever did become of them,
Those three who founded Bethlehem.

Oh, have you been to Allentown,
Where everything is upside-down,
And every smile is a frown,
In topsy-turvy Allentown.

I knew a chap in Birmingham
Who got himself in a dreadful jam
Over some soap and a pound of spam;
He barely escaped from Birmingham.

Oh, have you been to Syracuse,
Where Sherlock Holmes once had the blues:
No mysteries, no crimes, no clues,
No work for him in Syracuse.

Oh, have you been to Albany,
Where pirates go to have a spree:
The rum is cheap, the wenches free,
So yo ho ho for Albany.

I knew a chap in Leningrad,
Who looked to be a likely lad,
But underneath was just a cad,
Who loved and left in Leningrad.

Oh, if you go to Reykjavik,
You must be nimble, must be quick,
Must be watchful for a trick -
They're sneaky folk in Reykjavik.

Oh, have you been to Istanbul,
Where lurks a Turk who's no one's fool:
He's Harvey Hawley Hassan Abdul,
The cagiest man in Istanbul.

2008-05-11T06:51:00.003-04:00

A work of parodic brilliance: The Trouble With Tribbles as if written by Edward Gorey.

(Hat tip to Catholic Bibliophagist.)

2008-04-30T08:09:00.003-04:00

Cried Obama, "How long, Lord, how long?
Get him off the stage, please, ring the gong!
There's a saw old and trite:
Two wrongs don't make a right -
But it seems that one Wright is a wrong!"

2008-04-26T22:23:00.002-04:00

Still breathing. Energy taken up with family, work, reading.

Oh, and I turned 52 today; Trousered Ape is 4.

2008-03-23T06:42:00.000-04:00

A joyful Easter to you!

HE IS RISEN!

2008-03-13T06:34:00.002-04:00

Sometimes Nemesis does as befits her:
An example is Eliot Spitzer:
He who tortured the law
Is now trapped in its maw,
While the world roars out, "Fiat justicia!"

2008-02-27T16:45:00.001-05:00

William F. Buckley, Jr. has died.

Grant him eternal rest, O Lord, and may light eternal shine upon him.

2008-02-03T23:22:00.000-05:00

A great upset victory tonight by the Giants, for whom I have rooted, with greater or less intensity, for over 30 years. But, at least in our house, bittersweet, since the Bride, born and raised in Concord, Massachusetts, was solidly for the Patriots; and the Authoress and Storm Queen both take after their mother.

2008-02-03T15:15:00.000-05:00

Literary Criticism Dept:

The Authoress, after reading The Cask of Amontillado: "That guy had issues."

2008-01-27T10:01:00.000-05:00

No one has tagged me for this, but I’ll do it anyway (ht to Darwin Catholic:

Book Meme Rules

1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

Book: Webster’s New Twentieth Century Dictionary, Unabridged, Second Edition (1975)

Posting: (From the definition of auction [noun]):
1. a public sale of items, one by one, to the highest bidder, usually by a person licensed and authorized for the purpose.
2. the property sold or offered for sale at auction. [Obs.]
3. auction bridge.

Under the circumstances, the definition of "sentence" had to be arbitrary. Page 123 started with "auchenium"; this and the next three words ("au contraire", "au courant", and "auctary") had unique definitions, i.e., only one sense, so I took each with its definition as a single sentence. I then took the actual word "auction" and its etymology as the fifth sentence.

Step 5 has been omitted.