Sunday, November 8, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Words, Colorful Expressions, and Phrases Replete with Examples of Use Drawn from the Rich Tapestry of Life
outside the pale (expression) outside a territory under the protection and constraints of a system of law upheld by the dominant group in that area; behavior believed to be nefarious, heinous, pernicious, malignant, fell, iniquitous, noxious, ruinous, deleterious, abominable, wayward, perverse, incorrigible, refractory, fractious, cantankerous, iconoclastic, egregious, abberant or deviant from a standard of behavior enforced by an organization of individuals; outside the boundaries of all that is held to be good, decent, orthodox, and just plain right and shit.
to put beyond the pale (expression) to put outside the law; to shun, ostracize, banish, exile, or cast out.
During the late Medieval Period and into the Early Modern Period, Norman and English invaders occupied the territory surrounding Dublin, Ireland. This fluctuating territory became known as the English Pale. The Pale was thus a territory where the rule of English law applied. In stark contrast, the rest of Ireland, bereft of English law, existed in a state of lawlessness, disorder, and suffered a general putrefaction of the body politic. To be put beyond the pale was to be made an outlaw or forced to live outside the protection of the law: to be condemned to live in a rookery of low-born oafs and recalcitrant chuffers whose children's children have produced more than their share of soccer hooligans.
At a press conference in the wake of 9/11, Benjamin Netanyahu declared that the terrorists should be "excoriated and put beyond the pale." Vexed Bubbas across the country issued a collective "huh?" Then George Bush, that master of self-made bubbadom, translated the foreigner's eloquence into a language the American people could understand: "We're gonna smoke 'em out of their holes."
Many a bible-thumping right winger believes that homosexuality is outside the pale of all that is decent and moral. Nevertheless, several of these befuddled bangers have been caught in hot pursuit of some torrid man-on-man action. And the poor bafoons they've duped make excuses for them. That's bush league.
to put beyond the pale (expression) to put outside the law; to shun, ostracize, banish, exile, or cast out.
During the late Medieval Period and into the Early Modern Period, Norman and English invaders occupied the territory surrounding Dublin, Ireland. This fluctuating territory became known as the English Pale. The Pale was thus a territory where the rule of English law applied. In stark contrast, the rest of Ireland, bereft of English law, existed in a state of lawlessness, disorder, and suffered a general putrefaction of the body politic. To be put beyond the pale was to be made an outlaw or forced to live outside the protection of the law: to be condemned to live in a rookery of low-born oafs and recalcitrant chuffers whose children's children have produced more than their share of soccer hooligans.
At a press conference in the wake of 9/11, Benjamin Netanyahu declared that the terrorists should be "excoriated and put beyond the pale." Vexed Bubbas across the country issued a collective "huh?" Then George Bush, that master of self-made bubbadom, translated the foreigner's eloquence into a language the American people could understand: "We're gonna smoke 'em out of their holes."
Many a bible-thumping right winger believes that homosexuality is outside the pale of all that is decent and moral. Nevertheless, several of these befuddled bangers have been caught in hot pursuit of some torrid man-on-man action. And the poor bafoons they've duped make excuses for them. That's bush league.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
November Paddle on the Mississippi
Today, I paddled from Hidden Falls to downtown St. Paul and back. The current was fairly strong on the way back upstream. I had to criss-cross the river to keep to the leeward side and use the eddies as much as possible.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Attempted Tea on a Sandbar Across from a Bluff on the Mississippi
This pretty little bluff is a popular look-out spot near the terminus of Summit Avenue.
The first time I came here was by water. On a spring morning during my freshman year at university, I cast myself into the river in what would be my second and final voyage in a cheap inflatable life raft. As I approached the point, I was losing air pressure fast and made haste quickly to shore. I tugged the flaccid vessel from the water and legged it miles back to the dorm. What a fine day.
A few years later, after a ten-day stopover in the hospital with pneumonia, pleurisy, and blood clots in both legs and my lung, I used to sit on this perch and think about the life I nearly lost. I haunted the shore searching for fossils and sitting near a little waterfall in the ravine weighted with indecision and self-doubt. Death was a little closer and my emotions were elemental and raw. I'll always think about the things that happened that winter and spring until the end, and often.
Recently, I stopped to have tea on this sand bar across the river from the bluff as I had done with Rosie in my pirogue a few years back. I assembled my stove, started water, and sat on a driftwood log. While I poured a packet of gingered powdered milk into the boiling water and I realized that I had forgetten the tea. A tough choice. I could sit on the banks of the Big Muddy drinking hot powdered milk and ginger and grimacing like a schnook. Or I could lay back and do a little woolgathering. As all days are, it was a fine day to reminisce.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Examples of Use Drawn from Real or Imagined Historical Events
rubiconundrum (noun) a puzzling, dangerous, or labyrinthine situation requiring action but having irreversible consequences and repercussions.
This is a term I coined while in graduate school in a time of crippling self-doubt where each decision I made seemed painful, complicated, and final; in a word, rubiconundrical. Rubiconundrum is a portmanteau, a word made from a combination of two words, in this case Rubicon and conundrum.
In 49 B.C., Julius Caesar led an army from Gaul to the north bank of the Rubicon River. Fully aware of the fact that to cross the Rubicon with a legion of soldiers was a breach of Roman law and tantamount to a declaration of war against the Republic, the Hairy One paused to weight the consequences of such an act. After some deliberation, he is said to have declared, "alea iacta est," meaning the die is cast or let the die be cast. As he forded the river and began to lead his soggy men toward Rome, he knew that this revolutionary act would lead ineluctably to civil war. Thus Caesar had successfully navigated a daunting rubiconundrum. For his courage, he would shortly become the ruler of Rome. A few short years later, while demonstrating a laissez-faire attitude toward the Ides of March, Caesar was stabbed to death by a bevy of senators. To this day, Caesar's last words remain a seething hotbed of controversy amonst scholars. Some historians contend that he said nothing while others argue that he turned to Brutus and asked, "and you, child?" As I have argued elsewhere, I maintain that his last words before he shuffled off the mortal coil were: "Enjoy every donut!"
Moments after the birth of her only son, Gladys faced a serious rubiconundrum. What to name her son? While she preferred Euple, she quickly realized that it did not rhyme with any words in any catchy way that might help to propel her young'un to the musical stardom she so eagerly desired. In a flash of white hot creative genius that some might call a vision, she saw her son as a grown man on some fantastical stage sporting sideburns from here to ya-ya, spangled with sequins, and performing a series of pelvic contortions each more cattiwampus than the last. The rest is history.
Monday, November 2, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Happenin' Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Examples of Use Written While Tightening my Own Wig
kazoo accompaniment (colorful expression) an inferior companion to, as a kazoo to a symphony; two or more concordant or discordant features or activities placed in close association with each other with one being of such low quality that it is deleterious to the enjoyment of the other.
I first saw kazoo accompaniment many years ago in the Minnesota Daily used to describe margin notes someone had written in a used textbook.
In lining the margins of his text book with witticisms, the callow freshman thought he was laying down sage for the ages when in reality his assinine asides were a kazoo accompaniment to the text.
The amateur commentators on a disreputable news channel began discussing President Obama's address to the nation before it began. As they showed his speech these shameless hussies and party plankers exploded in gassy blasts of criticism, erupted in fits of cynical bafoonery, and blew their wads with accusations of fascism. Their base and ignorant commentary was a kazoo accompaniment to Obama's thoughtful speech and a stiff slap in the face to common sense itself. It is the nature of kazoo accompaniments to be irksome, and this was a kazoo accompaniment to the core.
Once, in a fit of indecision, I saw a few minutes of Whose Line Is It Anyway? At first I thought the show was a kazoo accompaniment to the Viagra and ExtendZe ads that mercifully punctuated the show's utter stupidity. Then, as I watched for a couple more minutes, their canned antics became a kazoo accompaniment to the sound of me wretching uncontrollably.
I first saw kazoo accompaniment many years ago in the Minnesota Daily used to describe margin notes someone had written in a used textbook.
In lining the margins of his text book with witticisms, the callow freshman thought he was laying down sage for the ages when in reality his assinine asides were a kazoo accompaniment to the text.
The amateur commentators on a disreputable news channel began discussing President Obama's address to the nation before it began. As they showed his speech these shameless hussies and party plankers exploded in gassy blasts of criticism, erupted in fits of cynical bafoonery, and blew their wads with accusations of fascism. Their base and ignorant commentary was a kazoo accompaniment to Obama's thoughtful speech and a stiff slap in the face to common sense itself. It is the nature of kazoo accompaniments to be irksome, and this was a kazoo accompaniment to the core.
Once, in a fit of indecision, I saw a few minutes of Whose Line Is It Anyway? At first I thought the show was a kazoo accompaniment to the Viagra and ExtendZe ads that mercifully punctuated the show's utter stupidity. Then, as I watched for a couple more minutes, their canned antics became a kazoo accompaniment to the sound of me wretching uncontrollably.
The Mendota Bridge
A photo of the Mendota bridge taken from a little canal that runs between the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers and forms one of the borders of Pike Island.
A historic photo showing the construction of the Mendota bridge
A historic photo showing an aerial view of the area around the Mendota bridge
A historic photo showing boats near the Mendota bridge
A historic photo of the Mendota bridge
Edie the Developmentally-Delayed Beagle
Edie began her life in a puppy mill somewhere in the state of New York. The University of Minnesota Veterinary department purchased her for use in research on the efficacy of a new cancer medication. So for the first two or three years of her life, she lived in a small kennel in a little room with nine other individually caged beagles. When they were allowed to romp out in the middle of the room, they would hump each other with gusto in chains of three or four. They were named A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I, and J. Each of the dogs was given the medicine, then bone marrow samples were taken.
Jen saw a sign advertising that the veterinary school was giving the dogs to good homes while she was doing computer support. We felt bad for the poor beagles and decided to adopt the beagle named E, and called her Edie.
Poor little Edie had never run in grass. She would shoot off with abandon only to take a tumble a few strides later. We quickly started to notice that Edie had significant developmental delays, such as being unable to figure out how to get around a tree blocking her path. She peed and pooped in her bed and all over the house without compunction. Her vision was so poor that if you gave her a treat she would just snap wildly at your hand. And, to be honest, she wasn't the sharpest arrow in the quiver.
As the years passed she made slow improvement. She learned some new tricks by watching the other dogs. With a lot of patience and repetition the conditioning of her past faded and she got closer to being a normal dog. She was still a bit of a burden, and not the most fun dog to have, but she had a good time. She had her endearing moments, like when she learned to sit up on her hind legs to ask for attention. She loved a good pat and went wild for a good nosh and a long sniff while out on a walk. After ten years or so, she died of kidney disease. In many ways it was a relief, but we were both happy to know she had some good years after the misery of her youth.
The Racial Melting Pot
One day at work in the archives, I decided to do a little genealogical research on my mother's family. I found a census from the 1920s that listed my great-grandfather, Joseph Latapie; my great-grandmother, Desire "Daisy" Latapie; my grandfather and namesake, Patrick Latapie; and the rest of the children in the family. All are identified as "mulatto." While it is not absolutely concrete evidence, it bolsters what I have always suspected--that I am part black. If this is true, I'm as proud of that part of my heritage as I am any other part.
My great-grandmother Daisy was a petite woman who wore her hair in a chignon, smoked cigarettes rolled with french bread wrappers, sometimes lived with two men at a time, and reportedly had a penchant for black musicians: just the sort of great grandmother I can rally behind.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Recondite Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases Richly Embellished with Examples of Use
to woolgather (verb) to daydream; to lose one's self in idle reverie; to stargaze.
woolgatherer (noun) a dreamer or escapist who engages in flights of fancy, lost in thought and lost to the world around him/her; an indolent, dreamy person.
"What! I think my wits are a wool-gathering to-day." Jonathan Swift
The term woolgathering, in its more literal sense, referred to the act of gathering loose hunks of wool that had blown off during the course of sheering sheep. It was thus a relatively mindless task that allowed the woolgatherer ample opportunity to absent his/her mind from the workaday world.
Nestled beneath his outrageously tall bearskin and lost in thought, the young Coldstreamer was taken by surprise at the changing of the guard. So deep was his bout of woolgathering that it took him several strides to hit the silly walk the crowd had gathered to see. He almost expected a reprimand from the Ministry of Silly Walks.
I have spent many a sunny afternoon drifting with the current on the Mississippi in my kayak. One day, lost in the idyllic world of a habitual woolgatherer, I didn't notice a barge coming up behind me until a horn blast shocked me back to coherence. I put some wax on it and got out of the way.
While I was in graduate school, I often needed a break from the straight-jacketing studies at hand. I used to amuse myself by writing epigrams like this one: "Every weaver needs a woolgatherer." Older people often appreciate it, but the twenty-somethings I know tend not to know what the hell I'm talking about.
woolgatherer (noun) a dreamer or escapist who engages in flights of fancy, lost in thought and lost to the world around him/her; an indolent, dreamy person.
"What! I think my wits are a wool-gathering to-day." Jonathan Swift
The term woolgathering, in its more literal sense, referred to the act of gathering loose hunks of wool that had blown off during the course of sheering sheep. It was thus a relatively mindless task that allowed the woolgatherer ample opportunity to absent his/her mind from the workaday world.
Nestled beneath his outrageously tall bearskin and lost in thought, the young Coldstreamer was taken by surprise at the changing of the guard. So deep was his bout of woolgathering that it took him several strides to hit the silly walk the crowd had gathered to see. He almost expected a reprimand from the Ministry of Silly Walks.
I have spent many a sunny afternoon drifting with the current on the Mississippi in my kayak. One day, lost in the idyllic world of a habitual woolgatherer, I didn't notice a barge coming up behind me until a horn blast shocked me back to coherence. I put some wax on it and got out of the way.
While I was in graduate school, I often needed a break from the straight-jacketing studies at hand. I used to amuse myself by writing epigrams like this one: "Every weaver needs a woolgatherer." Older people often appreciate it, but the twenty-somethings I know tend not to know what the hell I'm talking about.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Vintage Campers
One of my favorite sites to visit when I've got some extra time to woolgather is http://www.vintagecampers.com/ My favorite vintage campers are the old Spartan trailers like this one. I would love to have one of these in my backyard to go out and sit in whenever I feel the urge. I could go out with a cup of coffee on cold fall days and sit at the kitchen table, look out the window, let my eye wander over the interior, and smile with satisfaction. Maybe I'd bring a pen and notepad, maybe not.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Saying, and Phrases Replete with Examples of Use
to defenestrate (verb) to throw someone or something out the window.
Marcellus Wallace, a man of unexpurgated brutality, had a predilection for getting medieval on the asses of his nemeses. Allegedly Marcellus had once defenestrated Tony Rocky Horror just because the intrepid semi-Somoan had given a foot massage to his woman. The incident was much on the minds of two ill-coiffed goons in his employ, who discussed the matter often and con brio.
When he was a much younger man, professor Lehmberg wrote the lectures he would deliver for the remainder of his long career. Year after year he told the same stories interlarded with the same feeble witticisms, offered up with the same tongue in the same cheek. In one lecture, between his usual butt-cocking attempts to free a glutinous testicle from his thigh, the gelatinous don discussed the Defenestration of Prague, an incident that occurred in seventeenth century Bohemia where the testy denizens of a castle defenestrated some obstreperous foreign dignitaries after some tedious theological quibbling. The catholic church, he would twinkle, claimed the defenestrated men were saved by divine intervention. Having learned how to work the low-brow proclivities of his callow audience, the old reprobate would add with a sly grin and a chuckle, "some thought it had more to do with the pile of horse dung they landed in." The students gave that near-comatose laugh one gives after one has been bored witless for an extended period of time. Hilarity did not ensue.
Marcellus Wallace, a man of unexpurgated brutality, had a predilection for getting medieval on the asses of his nemeses. Allegedly Marcellus had once defenestrated Tony Rocky Horror just because the intrepid semi-Somoan had given a foot massage to his woman. The incident was much on the minds of two ill-coiffed goons in his employ, who discussed the matter often and con brio.
When he was a much younger man, professor Lehmberg wrote the lectures he would deliver for the remainder of his long career. Year after year he told the same stories interlarded with the same feeble witticisms, offered up with the same tongue in the same cheek. In one lecture, between his usual butt-cocking attempts to free a glutinous testicle from his thigh, the gelatinous don discussed the Defenestration of Prague, an incident that occurred in seventeenth century Bohemia where the testy denizens of a castle defenestrated some obstreperous foreign dignitaries after some tedious theological quibbling. The catholic church, he would twinkle, claimed the defenestrated men were saved by divine intervention. Having learned how to work the low-brow proclivities of his callow audience, the old reprobate would add with a sly grin and a chuckle, "some thought it had more to do with the pile of horse dung they landed in." The students gave that near-comatose laugh one gives after one has been bored witless for an extended period of time. Hilarity did not ensue.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Saying, and Phrases with Sometimes Scanty Examples of Use
to rusticate (verb) to live in the country; to send to the country; to expel from school, such as a student from university.
After doling out a savage beating on the most frivolous of pretenses, the schoolmaster rusticated Young Rupert Cocking-Johnson to his guardian's country manor where the unhappy young man would again feel the beech in the hands of his dour stepfather.
(Used as an adjective) Thousands upon thousands of hayseeds, rubes, hicks, bumpkins, clodhoppers, and yokels still live rusticated lives of bucolic contentment and unconcern while the rest of the world chases modernity.
After doling out a savage beating on the most frivolous of pretenses, the schoolmaster rusticated Young Rupert Cocking-Johnson to his guardian's country manor where the unhappy young man would again feel the beech in the hands of his dour stepfather.
(Used as an adjective) Thousands upon thousands of hayseeds, rubes, hicks, bumpkins, clodhoppers, and yokels still live rusticated lives of bucolic contentment and unconcern while the rest of the world chases modernity.
Starkley Duncan's Diatribe: Cool
One day I was checking out the posts at fark.com when I saw a link about the word "cool." I followed the link to an article in an Eastern newspaper. The author of the article reiterated the script from this cartoon. I sent an email to the editor declaring in the immortal words of Crusty the Clown, "if this is anyone but Steve Allen you are stealing my bit." I never heard back from him and didn't too much care.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Boss Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Examples of Use Written While Flying the Mexican Airlines
cut of your jib (colorful phrase) your attitude, affectations, style, or bearing; your certain je ne sais quoi; your twinkle.
The cut of your jib derives from the distinct shape, and the position of the jib, or triangular sail set just ahead of the foremast on a sailing vessel. By observing the cut of another boat's jib, those of the salty persuasion can tell if a vessel be friend or foe at distance.
In The Big Lebowski, the sarsaparilla-obsessed cowboy narrator said, "I like yer style, dude." If the Cohen brothers had decided to cast a rum hound seventeenth-century English pirate instead of a cow poke, he would have declared, "This auld sea dog be diggin' on the cut of your jib." Then he'd sashay over to the other side of the bar with his curvy blade sticking out like a barber's pole. Then the goofiest looking kid I've ever seen would pour him a pewtery lead cup of rum. Then he'd dragoon some of the effetest actors in cinematic history into singing, "Fifteen men on a dead man's chest. . .." Then suddenly one sturdy brougham would plow up the driveway at a hundred and twenty five miles an hour. Then some total Best-Chetwynde would get out and every fiber of his being would cry out, "It chafes, and baby, it's lodged." Then, despite his I-just-coughed-up-a-suppository-esque demeanor, he'd stifle this wholly distressing and farcical Gilbert and Sullivan badinage baith snell and clean. And, I'd be all like, I can't abide by the cut of his jib. Fade Black.
When I met my wife I said, "I like the cut of your jib," and she knew what I meant.
The first time I saw "cut of your jib" was in an old Kurt Vonnegut novel. I thought it was the funniest thing ever. I have really enjoyed overusing over the years. Thanks for grinning everyone.
Everybody should have a Kurt Vonnegut phase.
The cut of your jib derives from the distinct shape, and the position of the jib, or triangular sail set just ahead of the foremast on a sailing vessel. By observing the cut of another boat's jib, those of the salty persuasion can tell if a vessel be friend or foe at distance.
In The Big Lebowski, the sarsaparilla-obsessed cowboy narrator said, "I like yer style, dude." If the Cohen brothers had decided to cast a rum hound seventeenth-century English pirate instead of a cow poke, he would have declared, "This auld sea dog be diggin' on the cut of your jib." Then he'd sashay over to the other side of the bar with his curvy blade sticking out like a barber's pole. Then the goofiest looking kid I've ever seen would pour him a pewtery lead cup of rum. Then he'd dragoon some of the effetest actors in cinematic history into singing, "Fifteen men on a dead man's chest. . .." Then suddenly one sturdy brougham would plow up the driveway at a hundred and twenty five miles an hour. Then some total Best-Chetwynde would get out and every fiber of his being would cry out, "It chafes, and baby, it's lodged." Then, despite his I-just-coughed-up-a-suppository-esque demeanor, he'd stifle this wholly distressing and farcical Gilbert and Sullivan badinage baith snell and clean. And, I'd be all like, I can't abide by the cut of his jib. Fade Black.
When I met my wife I said, "I like the cut of your jib," and she knew what I meant.
The first time I saw "cut of your jib" was in an old Kurt Vonnegut novel. I thought it was the funniest thing ever. I have really enjoyed overusing over the years. Thanks for grinning everyone.
Everybody should have a Kurt Vonnegut phase.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Views from My Cupola on a Fine Fall Day
Today was one of those beautiful windy fall days that make it a pure joy to be alive, and free, and not in pain. Working in my studio today, I played Cavalleria Rusticana and the Psychedelic Furs. I got so nostalgic I drove to the University to take some photos of my old haunts. It was a good day.
Two Views of My Cupola on a Beautiful Fall Day
Tucked beneath the serpentine branches of two gnarled white oaks, my garret studio runs the length of our house. The previous owner was a man of another era who believed that when one is inside, one is inside--and that if one wants to see the outdoors one has just to step out the front door. Thus he had covered up the windows at each end of the attic from the outside with steel siding, along with seven other windows and one door downstairs. When we moved in one of my first horrible undertakings was to restore the windows so that the attic would be usable again. For a few miserable hours I'm glad to have behind me, I clung to a tall ladder with one arm outstretched clutching a whirring circular saw with an abrasive, metal cutting blade. Showers of sparks flew in all directions burning the hair off my arms and buffeting my safety glasses. Slowed by lamentable bouts of cursing, I got the job done.
After remodeling the interior, which is another tale full of sound and fury, I was safely ensconced, nestled under the cozy steep embrace of my tight fastness before the first snows of winter fell. I spent a glorious winter drawing and painting. But as the heat of late spring bore down upon our little house, my wings grew smudgy and moist and began to adhere to cartoons I was drawing. I realized that there still was not enough ventilation, unless I ran the air conditioner all the time.
My first remedy was farcical. I bought an industrial strength fan and inadvertently turned my studio into a wind tunnel that almost saw me clinging to the chimney outstretched like Gilligan in a wind storm. Even set on low, unfettered papers flew from my desk. I started bringing in rocks from the yard to augment my meager supply of paperweights. Then one day, hunched over, back to the blast, cupping my hands and trying to kindle the leaves and stibble of a little verdant inspiration, I burned one of my eyebrows off. Something had to give.
So I built this cupola which provides cool breeze in summer and soft light year around.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Dazzling Examples of Use
homunculus (noun) Literally, little man; fetus; pygmy, squirt, half-pint.
In Manhattan, Mary (Diane Keaton) repeatedly gushed over the unbuckled virility of a former lover, Jeremiah (Wallace Shawn). Even though, according to himself, her present lover Isaac (Woody Allen) possessed amazing sexual technique, she spoke of the fabled Jeremiah in such glowing terms that one had to assume he was a beau hunk of a rare, spectacular, and winning vintage. On an off-chance, Mary and Isaac happened upon him in a store. There stood Wallace Shawn, shorter and balder than Woody, basking in all of his inimitable glory. After Jeremiah had exited stage left, Mary again purred his sexual praises. In a classic line from one of Woody's finest, Isaac burst out, "That homunculus?"
I met Paul Wellstone once, he was a chipper homunculus with a hearty handshake and a disarming smile. I liked him. I'm sorry his life was cut short.
In Manhattan, Mary (Diane Keaton) repeatedly gushed over the unbuckled virility of a former lover, Jeremiah (Wallace Shawn). Even though, according to himself, her present lover Isaac (Woody Allen) possessed amazing sexual technique, she spoke of the fabled Jeremiah in such glowing terms that one had to assume he was a beau hunk of a rare, spectacular, and winning vintage. On an off-chance, Mary and Isaac happened upon him in a store. There stood Wallace Shawn, shorter and balder than Woody, basking in all of his inimitable glory. After Jeremiah had exited stage left, Mary again purred his sexual praises. In a classic line from one of Woody's finest, Isaac burst out, "That homunculus?"
I met Paul Wellstone once, he was a chipper homunculus with a hearty handshake and a disarming smile. I liked him. I'm sorry his life was cut short.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Crummy Photos of Eagles on the River
The eagles were out fishing on the Mississippi and Minnesota rivers this afternoon. When I was out kayaking today, I saw three eagles a few miles upstream from Saint Paul. I managed to get a few photos of this eagle and an immature bald eagle. None of them are particularly good. You can imagine my chagrin when I downloaded the photos and saw that the photo of the eagle taking off is blurry. Holding up a camera to your eye and trying to keep it in focus as the current sweeps you under the tree, all while you try to keep the boat straight by dragging the paddle tucked in your armpit is a challenge. My kayak feels amazingly tippy in these situations.
I always try not to look at birds when I approach them. Usually I don't look because I feel bad about disturbing them, and they seem to have an if-you-don't-look-we-won't-fly policy in place. An eagle's vision is so acute though that I'm sure they can see my beady little eyes darting around my head furtively at a half mile away. It amuses me to think they are facetiously thinking, "yeah right, I don't see what you're doing there, you country-fried rube."
More Photos of Lock and Dam No. 1 on the Mississippi River
Approaching Lock and Dam No. 1 (Ford Dam) with the Street Bridge upstream above the dam.
View while sitting in my kayak waiting for the water to begin to rise to the level of the river above the dam.
A historic photo showing the construction of Lock and Dam No. 1
A historic photo showing the construction of Lock and Dam No. 1
A historic photo showing the construction of Lock and Dam No. 1
Sunday, October 25, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Saying, and Phrases Replete with Examples of Use
sesquipedalian (adjective) Literally, one and one-half foot or one cubit in length; a long, multisyllabic word or sentence.
The German philosopher and powerful irritant, Immanuel Kant, is renown for convoluted, sesquipedalian sentences that tend to confound those readers used to fluffier fare.
While the writer fully apprehended that her use of sesquipedalian words was viewed with distaste by the advocates of the good-writing-is-simple-writing school of thought, her love of language made their protestations moot.
Gales of droogish laughter thundered through the studio as the late night talk show host burst onto the stage brandishing a jiggly pink sesquipedalian dildo.
Thursten Howell III wondered aloud if the Professor, a notorious sesquipedalian egghead, "bought those words wholesale."
The German philosopher and powerful irritant, Immanuel Kant, is renown for convoluted, sesquipedalian sentences that tend to confound those readers used to fluffier fare.
While the writer fully apprehended that her use of sesquipedalian words was viewed with distaste by the advocates of the good-writing-is-simple-writing school of thought, her love of language made their protestations moot.
Gales of droogish laughter thundered through the studio as the late night talk show host burst onto the stage brandishing a jiggly pink sesquipedalian dildo.
Thursten Howell III wondered aloud if the Professor, a notorious sesquipedalian egghead, "bought those words wholesale."
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Saying, and Phrases Freighted with Lively Examples of Use Certain to Offend Some
to interlard (verb) To insert, scatter, sprinkle, or to fill with (as lard into flour); to pepper, spangle, or freight with something of inferior, foreign or contrasting properties.
The gleefully verbose writer interlarded his essays with such a ferocious crush of sesquipedalian words that all but the hardiest of dictionary-wielding logophiles shook their heads in dismay.
The flock of hip young card-carrying members of the green party rode their bikes slowly down the middle of the street, intent on the discomfiture of commuters trying to get to various destinations in cars. Insults were exchanged, traffic ground to a halt, car horns blazed, and tempers flared. The hipsters perceived each transgression they had just provoked as the resistance of the wicked to the righteous. Their faces were drawn into scowls and their thoughts interlarded with fist-pumping, self-righteous indignation as they mouthed empty platitudes they failed to live up to themselves. Later I saw two of them load their bikes onto the roof of a Subaru Legacy and drive off.
The gleefully verbose writer interlarded his essays with such a ferocious crush of sesquipedalian words that all but the hardiest of dictionary-wielding logophiles shook their heads in dismay.
The flock of hip young card-carrying members of the green party rode their bikes slowly down the middle of the street, intent on the discomfiture of commuters trying to get to various destinations in cars. Insults were exchanged, traffic ground to a halt, car horns blazed, and tempers flared. The hipsters perceived each transgression they had just provoked as the resistance of the wicked to the righteous. Their faces were drawn into scowls and their thoughts interlarded with fist-pumping, self-righteous indignation as they mouthed empty platitudes they failed to live up to themselves. Later I saw two of them load their bikes onto the roof of a Subaru Legacy and drive off.
Starkley Duncan's Diatribe with a Scorching Letter to the Editor
This letter to the editor made my day when I read it. Apparently when Marge read the paper, she didn't disapprove of the self-righteous, holier-than-thou articles paid for by cigarette ads. Nor did she have a beef with the decidedly unwholesome pictures of scantily clad women presented as the objects of dark desires, offering to sell their company to any and all takers. But when she read the words, "suck my dick," scribbled by a silly cartoonist in an exceedingly silly cartoon . . . well . . . not on her watch. Then again, maybe Marge is Hulk Hogan's agent.
Friday, October 23, 2009
A Paunchy Haiku for Lars, Definitely Not the Right Number of Syllables
You know, on one hand we shouldn't blame ourselves for our farts, they are just the outgassings of bacteria, with the belching and the farting and the dumping and whatnot these wee murky blighters do.
But when you think about it some more, you go "nah" everybody knows some foods lay the stank down, it's been proven in the parlors, the boudoirs, the tiny enclosed crawlspaces, and phone booths across the nation--or on those special occasions when you wrap yourselves together in cling wrap--and then, oh yeah.
It was brought home to me with particular vehemence when you bent down to pick up a piece of wood the other night at the bonfire, so get over it, man.
But when you think about it some more, you go "nah" everybody knows some foods lay the stank down, it's been proven in the parlors, the boudoirs, the tiny enclosed crawlspaces, and phone booths across the nation--or on those special occasions when you wrap yourselves together in cling wrap--and then, oh yeah.
It was brought home to me with particular vehemence when you bent down to pick up a piece of wood the other night at the bonfire, so get over it, man.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Questionable Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases Designed to Induce a Moment of Wicked Juvenile Glee
jagged vicious cabbage fart (colorful, if somewhat gauche, phrase) A fart of singular character that rasps the cheeks, assaults the ears, and stings the nose.
While I was in the confessional, the priest unfurled a jagged vicious cabbage fart that tore through his priest hole like an errant porker. The children waiting outside burst into laughter. Regrettably, it would be the least of his public embarrassments. It is the nature of priests to be naughty and he was a priest to the core.
My friend Lars is a sometimes crotchety sometimes recluse. The other day I called him only to hear this message: "Even if I was trapped in a space suit brimming with jagged vicious cabbage farts and taking your call was the only way I could escape my own private Gary, Indiana, I still wouldn't pick up the phone."
While I was in the confessional, the priest unfurled a jagged vicious cabbage fart that tore through his priest hole like an errant porker. The children waiting outside burst into laughter. Regrettably, it would be the least of his public embarrassments. It is the nature of priests to be naughty and he was a priest to the core.
My friend Lars is a sometimes crotchety sometimes recluse. The other day I called him only to hear this message: "Even if I was trapped in a space suit brimming with jagged vicious cabbage farts and taking your call was the only way I could escape my own private Gary, Indiana, I still wouldn't pick up the phone."
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Ripping Good Examples of Use
procrustean (adjective) To force disparate data or experiences to conform to a previously envisaged hypothesis or theory; to skew or modify the data so as to uphold the desired results; to force something to fit a certain standard sometimes by violent or coercive means.
Procrustean derives from Procrustes, a notorious highwayman of Attica and the son of Poseidon. Legend has it Procrustes lurked around the sacred way like a priest in the choir. Hail fellow and well met, he'd invite his marks back to his penthouse. After a couple of fish tacos, he'd invite them to crash on his bed for the night. Then things would go horribly awry. Procrustes would be all over his poor victim like tacky on Britney Spears. He'd try to stuff them into his bed (hence, Procrustes bed). If they were too short he'd stretch them on some sort of stretching mechanism until they fit the bed. If they were too tall, he reached for the Husqvarna. It was brutal and it went on for far too long. Thank goodness Theseus out Procrustesed Procrustes.
The procrustean tendencies of scientists who are paid to do research to promote a lucretive new medicine don't surprise me. What surprises me is the tendency toward procrustean thought in purportedly open-minded intellectuals.
The procrustean feminist set out to prove that porn is violence toward women. If a given movie didn't fit the procrustean bed she had set out, she reinterpreted it until it did.
Procrustean derives from Procrustes, a notorious highwayman of Attica and the son of Poseidon. Legend has it Procrustes lurked around the sacred way like a priest in the choir. Hail fellow and well met, he'd invite his marks back to his penthouse. After a couple of fish tacos, he'd invite them to crash on his bed for the night. Then things would go horribly awry. Procrustes would be all over his poor victim like tacky on Britney Spears. He'd try to stuff them into his bed (hence, Procrustes bed). If they were too short he'd stretch them on some sort of stretching mechanism until they fit the bed. If they were too tall, he reached for the Husqvarna. It was brutal and it went on for far too long. Thank goodness Theseus out Procrustesed Procrustes.
The procrustean tendencies of scientists who are paid to do research to promote a lucretive new medicine don't surprise me. What surprises me is the tendency toward procrustean thought in purportedly open-minded intellectuals.
The procrustean feminist set out to prove that porn is violence toward women. If a given movie didn't fit the procrustean bed she had set out, she reinterpreted it until it did.
Kayaking the Mississippi: Lock and Dam No. 1
I was amazed when I found out that U.S. Army Corps of Engineers allows lone kayakers to go through the locks. All you do is pull a cord, wait for the voice at the other end, and ask to go through. Then you paddle into the compartment, a worker throws you a rope, and the compartment fills or empties depending on whether you are going up- or downstream. The first time I went through, I was a little apprehensive. I paddled into this dark caverous space with blackened walls covered with slimy moss. Then the massive doors behind me creaked shut. I felt a little claustrophobic and unsure about how fast the water would surge into the lock. But, the water came in relatively slowly, not churning wildly just roiling. I was paddling again in a few minutes.
I tend to avoid going through the locks. However, I greatly prefer them to some of the atrocious portages I have encountered further upstream on the Mississippi.
Something is Rotten in the State of Denmark
These two stinkers that are still unrepentantly stinkin' up the joint.
Trapping Leeches
Chilton Lake, north of Frazee, Minnesota.When I was thirteen, I was gung ho about making money. I caught frogs and sold them to bait dealers. I mowed lawns to make a few dollars a month. And I got an allowance of 50 cents/week. The coffers weren't full and making chump change couldn't slake my yen to amass a goodly pile of loot.
One day at school a classmate mentioned that he and his father trapped leeches, but he wouldn't tell me any details. I told my dad about it and he asked an acquaintance of his, the uncle of a bait dealer in town, if he knew how it was done. This kindly old guy did and he made free with the sage (which I will pass on in another post to anyone interested in making some extra money).
So I obtained, or made, the requisite stuff, homemade traps and bloody meat, and the hunt was on that Spring. After a few initial failures, I hit pay dirt. I set traps every evening, and checked them every morning. Within a couple of weeks I was catching up to fifteen pounds of leeches, an entire five gallon bucket full of the awful little creathers each day. Seven days a week, I would drag myself out of bed at four in the morning; ride my Solex moped to the lake; check the traps in my little pirogue; and ride home with my leech bucket strapped to the child seat on the back of my moped. If I had school, I was half asleep all day. Every evening, I would put out the traps again baited with fresh bull liver or kidneys the town butcher was generous enough to give me.
For the first month or so, I took my catch to a bait dealer in nearby Perham who always paid me $3.50/lbs in one-dollar bills, which I kept in piles hidden in my underwear drawer between trips to the bank. Then, my dad helped me land a deal to supply all of the stores at a large retail sporting store chain in Fargo, North Dakota. Every week I'd package three hundred dozen leeches in individual styrofoam containers. My dad and I would drive thirty miles to drop them off at the home of "the Gun Man," who gave me six-five cents a dozen for my labors. And, I hung out my own shingle to boot. I put out a sign in the front yard emblazoned with one word, "leechs." By mid-summer, I was clearing $350/week, a vast fortune to a kid from the sticks, living in Northern Minnesota during the late 1970s.
I have many vivid memories that I still conjure up when, if I can't help it, I'm up before the sun rises. I hated cutting up liver. I hated the smell of leeches and the fiberous blobs of bloodless organ meat remaining in the traps. I loved the brisk early dawn moped ride down the old county road and the bumpy, swooshing, windy ride through the hilly farm fields, past the lowing cows, at full throttle. I loved walking through the tussocks in the meadow by the lake and watching the sun rise and set while mucking around in my little boat.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Saying, and Phrases with Sumptuous Examples of Use
put some wax on it (colorful phrase which should be used at every opportunity) Hurry!; shake a leg; put the pedal to the metal; an injunction not to dawdle.
This phrase is derived from the age-old practice of applying wax to surfaces, such as skis, in order to facilitate speed and ease of use by reducing friction. There are many variations to the sentiment communicated therein such as the splashy, if nonsensical, "put some stank on it."
One night two young junior-high hooligans took some tar out of the bucket in the barn and headed down to the municipal liquor store in the sleepy burg of Frazee. They wandered through the darkened parking lot slathering car door handles with the thick black tar, chortling with clandestine glee. Suddenly, one of the little darlings saw a drunken stranger issue from the door of the bar. The incipient hoodlum turned to his pal, who was still spreading some creamy goodness on the inside of a handle, and implored him to "put some wax on it, someone's coming." Then the duo skedaddled out of the lot and high-tailed it toward the river. Behind them, they heard the sloppy yowl of one of their marks cursing at them and swearing all manner of revenge. No tarry-handed sots, no police ever caught them and I'm sure that at this late date a statute of limitations would preclude their arrest. Not that I'm all that familiar with this particular incident or anything.
This phrase is derived from the age-old practice of applying wax to surfaces, such as skis, in order to facilitate speed and ease of use by reducing friction. There are many variations to the sentiment communicated therein such as the splashy, if nonsensical, "put some stank on it."
One night two young junior-high hooligans took some tar out of the bucket in the barn and headed down to the municipal liquor store in the sleepy burg of Frazee. They wandered through the darkened parking lot slathering car door handles with the thick black tar, chortling with clandestine glee. Suddenly, one of the little darlings saw a drunken stranger issue from the door of the bar. The incipient hoodlum turned to his pal, who was still spreading some creamy goodness on the inside of a handle, and implored him to "put some wax on it, someone's coming." Then the duo skedaddled out of the lot and high-tailed it toward the river. Behind them, they heard the sloppy yowl of one of their marks cursing at them and swearing all manner of revenge. No tarry-handed sots, no police ever caught them and I'm sure that at this late date a statute of limitations would preclude their arrest. Not that I'm all that familiar with this particular incident or anything.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Sometimes Pointed Examples of Use
doublethink (noun) A term coined by George Orwell to describe the "ability to hold two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously."
While discussing the Middle East, the American landowner insisted with singular vehemence, that Israel had no right to exist. The Jews, he contended, stole the land they now occupy from the Palestinians. Ostensibly, he expressed the belief that stolen land should be returned to its rightful owner. I reminded him of something he already knew: that he was in possession of land our ancestors "obtained" through guile, fraud, or outright violence, and that at any time he chose he could give it back to the ancestors of the dispossessed. In a classic bout of doublethink, he argued that the particulars of his case did not warrant the solution he sought to impose upon others.
A highly conservative Catholic woman I know once argued bitterly that abortion was wrong since the ten commandments clearly state, "Thou shalt not kill." Moments later, she contended that drug dealers, the scum of the earth, should be taken out and shot summarily, clearly choosing to forget the divine injunction she had just cited. In an attempt to extirpate her doublethink, root and branch, I began to elucidate the many contradictions in her stated beliefs, but she clung to irrationality like stink on an outhouse corn cob.
While discussing the Middle East, the American landowner insisted with singular vehemence, that Israel had no right to exist. The Jews, he contended, stole the land they now occupy from the Palestinians. Ostensibly, he expressed the belief that stolen land should be returned to its rightful owner. I reminded him of something he already knew: that he was in possession of land our ancestors "obtained" through guile, fraud, or outright violence, and that at any time he chose he could give it back to the ancestors of the dispossessed. In a classic bout of doublethink, he argued that the particulars of his case did not warrant the solution he sought to impose upon others.
A highly conservative Catholic woman I know once argued bitterly that abortion was wrong since the ten commandments clearly state, "Thou shalt not kill." Moments later, she contended that drug dealers, the scum of the earth, should be taken out and shot summarily, clearly choosing to forget the divine injunction she had just cited. In an attempt to extirpate her doublethink, root and branch, I began to elucidate the many contradictions in her stated beliefs, but she clung to irrationality like stink on an outhouse corn cob.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Recondite Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases Richly Embellished with Examples of Use
hysteropotmoi (legal term) An individual who, once presumed dead, returns home after a journey, battle, or adventure. Prime literary examples are Ulysses and Bilbo Baggins.
Bilbo Baggins returned, and saw under the sun that all his belongings were up on the auction block. No one was more chagrined at the reappearance of the hysteropotmoi halfling than the Sackville-Bagginses who pined to cozy their barking dogs up to the intrepid hobbit's hearth.
Bilbo Baggins returned, and saw under the sun that all his belongings were up on the auction block. No one was more chagrined at the reappearance of the hysteropotmoi halfling than the Sackville-Bagginses who pined to cozy their barking dogs up to the intrepid hobbit's hearth.
Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #139
Most of my Fluid Chromatic epoxy paintings are 24" by 36." I'm planning to do some larger paintings this winter (perhaps 32" x 48"). The surface of each is very reflective and glass smooth, which makes them a little tricky to photograph without getting a lot of reflections or a general hazy look. To achieve the desired effect, I apply layers of epoxy until the painting is approximately 1/8 of an inch thick, giving them depth and translucence. Since epoxy resin dries rapidly, I have to work very quickly.
Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Handsomely Embellished Examples of Use
sac d'or (noun) Literally, bag of gold; the bag of vittles one either has delivered to one's door, or procures at a restaurant, fast-food joint, or convenience store; the paper bag used to conceal a bottle of booze on the street.This versatile term, used in this sense, was coined by the author, in 2002. It first appeared in print in the same year in the Ventura County Reporter. Exceeding his wildest expectations, sac d'or has woven its way into the warp and woof of everyday life.
After whetting their appetites on Leary biscuits, the burnouts decided to make a run to the SuperAmerica. Once our heros got there, they tried to finagle some rotating hot dogs out of the clerk at the register. Hard up, scotched but not slain, and hungry like the wolf, they meandered around back hoping some careless employee had left the dumpster corral unlocked. Fifteen glorious minutes later the stoked hopheads ambled down the street swinging a sac d'or bulging with a day's worth of unsold donuts.
True story. Late one night, this one couple I know went off to get a sac d'or at the Bell. They got swept up in the moment and got a record twenty one items. The guy, a frequent flyer of the Mexican Airlines whom I'll call "Lemunyun," was an unbridled trencherman. He cut anchor and mawed fifteen items. A little while later, or so he told me, Lemunyun felt really guilty about eating so much. So he went down to their basement and drank an entire bottle of ipecac. He said he didn't hurl, not even a little. He just toddled off to bed. Now that's brick house.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Portrait of a Pickled Patrick, 1967.
I might have started young, but it never took.When I was a kid, occasionally on Sunday mornings, I would walk over to my grandpa's house to watch professional wrestling with him. He would always give me a big glass of wine. Thus hammered, it's no wonder I was on the edge of my seat when Baron von Raschke sunk in "the claw."
When my dad was a little kid, my grandpa set him to work doing heavy farm labor. He would turn up in the field my dad was plowing and give him a six-pack of beer and potato chips for lunch. Nothing says safety like a tanked nine year old behind the wheel of some heavy machinery. That's old school.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Kayaking the Mississippi: Upstream from Minneapolis
View of the Minneapolis skyline from upstream.
A historic photo showing Minneapolis from Upstream
A historic photo showing Minneapolis from Upstream
A historic photo of the old Broadway Bridge
A historic photo showing squatters' shacks upstream from Minneapolis
A historic photo showing industry upstream from Minneapolis
A historic photo taken upstream from Minneapolis
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Richly Embellished Rollicking Examples of Use
nugatory (adjective) Having no appreciable effect; in vain; inconsequential.
For more than two decades, the United States has waged a costly war on drugs. Recent statistics indicate that this so-called war has had a nugatory effect on drug use, which continues unabated despite the strenuous efforts of all levels of law enforcement in this country. "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark," said Marcellus, his voice tremulous with apprehension, his eyes furtively darting from one side of his head to the other.
The net effect of my parents continual efforts, ill-thought-out remonstrances, and outraged admonitions not to stuff my mouth has been nugatory. I still store up food in my cheeks for as long as I want, whenever I want, wherever I want. For it is only when one tucks into an enormous mouthful of food that one truly eats.
For more than two decades, the United States has waged a costly war on drugs. Recent statistics indicate that this so-called war has had a nugatory effect on drug use, which continues unabated despite the strenuous efforts of all levels of law enforcement in this country. "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark," said Marcellus, his voice tremulous with apprehension, his eyes furtively darting from one side of his head to the other.
The net effect of my parents continual efforts, ill-thought-out remonstrances, and outraged admonitions not to stuff my mouth has been nugatory. I still store up food in my cheeks for as long as I want, whenever I want, wherever I want. For it is only when one tucks into an enormous mouthful of food that one truly eats.
Starkley Duncan's Diatribe: Book Movement
Back in the 1990s, I worked for Barnes and Noble at the Mall of America. Ill-paid and bored to tears, I began to conduct a series of "experiments." I repeatedly put Ethan Hawke's The Hottest State in a display labelled, "The Greatest Books of the Century." I enjoyed seeing the perplexed double takes people threw out when they saw his book prominently displayed amongst the collossi of literature. And I even managed to sell two copies for Ethan.
A little later, after Mary Lou Henner visited to shill her book, I Refuse to Raise a Brat, I started to reshelve self-help books penned by celebrities in the humor section.
Although there is a fine line between remedial social action and just plain, old-fashioned chicanery, I stand behind my actions as being in the best interests to the public at large.
So strongly did I believe in my cause, that I put forth this brave call for organized social action. To my knowledge, no one flocked to my banner. I guess they don't love America as much as I do.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Richly Embellished Rip-Roaring Examples of Use
metagrobilized (adjective) An excellent word, perhaps coined (or just used) by the French Renaissance writer, Francois Yves Rabelais, meaning: confused, mystified, nonplussed, addled, flummoxed, baffled, befuddled, discombobulated, or bewildered.
Hit with a blistering salvo of punches, kicks to the groin, and knees to the head, the metagrobilized fighter mistakenly put the referee in a painful toe hold before his corner could intervene. Next thing you know, the befuddled fighter grabs the mic from Joe Rogan and starts to gum the lyrics to some silly George Michael song about "setting one's personal monkey free." Having drunk copious amounts of cheap beer from plastic cups, the hayseeds and chompers of turnips in the audience just stand there wrinkling their troglodytic brows and mouthing WTF before unleashing a cacaphony of boos. It was something.
After taking a calculus exam, I was so metagrobilized I thought Bud Light tasted like beer.
metagrobolic (adjective) That which possesses the quality of inducing a confused or befuddled state.
After smoking the metagrobolic herb, the stoners gaffawed uproariously at old Leave It to Beaver reruns. During a commercial break they stumbled to the kitchen to truffle out some munchies, only to discover, much to their chagrin, that there was nothing to eat. In their befuddled state, they cursed the swine who had sacked the frig only to remember moments later that, not five minutes before, they themselves had ravaged the kitchen like a cloud of locusts.
Hit with a blistering salvo of punches, kicks to the groin, and knees to the head, the metagrobilized fighter mistakenly put the referee in a painful toe hold before his corner could intervene. Next thing you know, the befuddled fighter grabs the mic from Joe Rogan and starts to gum the lyrics to some silly George Michael song about "setting one's personal monkey free." Having drunk copious amounts of cheap beer from plastic cups, the hayseeds and chompers of turnips in the audience just stand there wrinkling their troglodytic brows and mouthing WTF before unleashing a cacaphony of boos. It was something.
After taking a calculus exam, I was so metagrobilized I thought Bud Light tasted like beer.
metagrobolic (adjective) That which possesses the quality of inducing a confused or befuddled state.
After smoking the metagrobolic herb, the stoners gaffawed uproariously at old Leave It to Beaver reruns. During a commercial break they stumbled to the kitchen to truffle out some munchies, only to discover, much to their chagrin, that there was nothing to eat. In their befuddled state, they cursed the swine who had sacked the frig only to remember moments later that, not five minutes before, they themselves had ravaged the kitchen like a cloud of locusts.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Richly Embellished Devil-May-Care Examples of Use
antediluvian (adjective) Literally, before the deluge; old, outmoded, or superannuated.
The students were by no means shocked when their professor arrived twenty minutes late sporting the typical antediluvian threads so many fusty scholars prefer. There were those among the gaggle of callow youth who made a sport of trying to pinpoint the exact year the sage on stage stopped buying clothing. For instance, one professor's scratchy-looking, dung brown polyester blazer, flared corduroy slacks, and rust colored turtle neck sweater all proclaimed the year of our lord, 1972.
The Tale of Noah and the Ark Revisited
In the Antediluvian era, there was a pox upon the land, nefarious deeds abounded, and everyone who was anyone flounced around wreathed in all the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah. Times were heinous, indeed. Realizing that he had made a hash of things, the deity who had created these bogus doers of evil conjured up a flood to wash away the evidence of his blunder. Because he was a real ray of kindness and magnanimity, the all-knowing one decided to spare one man and one woman and two of each creature by hustling them onto a custom-made yacht at the eleventh hour. And thus there began a new era of wholesomeness. The chosen man, Noah, and his main squeeze, Dakotah, were inordinately randy and begat many children. Their sons soon shacked up with their daughters, nephews knocked up nieces, first cousins got jiggy with second cousins once removed, and so on. In short, many an ass was tapped, fruitfulness abounded, and the earth was repopulated. To the casual observer, the actions of the supreme being might have seemed a little harsh at the time, but I think everyone can breathe a spankin' big sigh of relief that he amped it up a notch and fixed the problem once and for all.
[Interesting side note to this ripping yarn. Recent biblical scholarship has unearthed gripping evidence that, at Noah's request, the creator of all things allowed him to herd a few extra swine on board so that all those favored with a seat at the Captain's table could gorge themselves on baby-back ribs. Of course, this important historical finding will likely be at the center of a seething hotbed of controversy for decades to come.]
The students were by no means shocked when their professor arrived twenty minutes late sporting the typical antediluvian threads so many fusty scholars prefer. There were those among the gaggle of callow youth who made a sport of trying to pinpoint the exact year the sage on stage stopped buying clothing. For instance, one professor's scratchy-looking, dung brown polyester blazer, flared corduroy slacks, and rust colored turtle neck sweater all proclaimed the year of our lord, 1972.
The Tale of Noah and the Ark Revisited
In the Antediluvian era, there was a pox upon the land, nefarious deeds abounded, and everyone who was anyone flounced around wreathed in all the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah. Times were heinous, indeed. Realizing that he had made a hash of things, the deity who had created these bogus doers of evil conjured up a flood to wash away the evidence of his blunder. Because he was a real ray of kindness and magnanimity, the all-knowing one decided to spare one man and one woman and two of each creature by hustling them onto a custom-made yacht at the eleventh hour. And thus there began a new era of wholesomeness. The chosen man, Noah, and his main squeeze, Dakotah, were inordinately randy and begat many children. Their sons soon shacked up with their daughters, nephews knocked up nieces, first cousins got jiggy with second cousins once removed, and so on. In short, many an ass was tapped, fruitfulness abounded, and the earth was repopulated. To the casual observer, the actions of the supreme being might have seemed a little harsh at the time, but I think everyone can breathe a spankin' big sigh of relief that he amped it up a notch and fixed the problem once and for all.
[Interesting side note to this ripping yarn. Recent biblical scholarship has unearthed gripping evidence that, at Noah's request, the creator of all things allowed him to herd a few extra swine on board so that all those favored with a seat at the Captain's table could gorge themselves on baby-back ribs. Of course, this important historical finding will likely be at the center of a seething hotbed of controversy for decades to come.]
Friday, October 16, 2009
Rotten Little Dog and Cat on the Table
I came out into the living room one day, and who was on the table but Daisy and the Z-Spot. Hooligans! It's hard to dish out any discipline in these situations.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Richly Embellished Often Rambling Examples of Use
mundungus (noun) An old word for tobacco, foul-smelling tobacco, or the odor of stale tobacco.
James I of England (James VI) of Scotland, an ardent opponent of the new-fangled habit of smoking tobacco, wrote a pamphlet describing the hellish ills of smoking. It is thought that the word mundungus came into use around that time, derived from the Spanish, mundungo, or tripe. The Stuart king also couldn't help but eat too much fruit on routine gallops through his orchards. He was often, as he so painfully put it, "terribly loose."
When Wild Bill entered the room anyone within ten feet of him was afflicted by the powerful odor of mundungus. Not only did he smell like he steeped in a bar all day, he smelled like they mopped the bar floor with him every night. When the B left, the O stayed and demanded salty peanuts.
When the frat boys entered the bar, they smelled like Brut and their breath reeked of Lavoris; but, after a few hours in the smoky dive, they stank of mundungus and their porcine belches smelled of elderberries.
mundungal (adjective) having the qualities of mundungus. A word coined for the purposes of this lexicon.
A mundungal breeze wafted out of the open doors of the roughneck bikers' dive.
James I of England (James VI) of Scotland, an ardent opponent of the new-fangled habit of smoking tobacco, wrote a pamphlet describing the hellish ills of smoking. It is thought that the word mundungus came into use around that time, derived from the Spanish, mundungo, or tripe. The Stuart king also couldn't help but eat too much fruit on routine gallops through his orchards. He was often, as he so painfully put it, "terribly loose."
When Wild Bill entered the room anyone within ten feet of him was afflicted by the powerful odor of mundungus. Not only did he smell like he steeped in a bar all day, he smelled like they mopped the bar floor with him every night. When the B left, the O stayed and demanded salty peanuts.
When the frat boys entered the bar, they smelled like Brut and their breath reeked of Lavoris; but, after a few hours in the smoky dive, they stank of mundungus and their porcine belches smelled of elderberries.
mundungal (adjective) having the qualities of mundungus. A word coined for the purposes of this lexicon.
A mundungal breeze wafted out of the open doors of the roughneck bikers' dive.
The PBJ Lexicon: A Verbose Guide to Useful Words, Colorful Sayings, and Phrases with Richly Embellished Often Rambling Examples of Use
scotched but not slain (colorful phrase) thwarted, or driven back, but not ultimately defeated.
When the effete cutpurse attempted to rip the Gucci bag out of granny's hand, she uncorked a ferocious donnybrook of haymakers than found him measuring his length on the sward. He hobbled off to steal another day, scotched but not slain.
The hackwit was driven from the stage by a chorus of boorish jeers. Scotched but not slain, he schlepped off grabbing his necktie and muttering, "tough crowd." People heard him vow that he'd return with some new material and wow their socks off. That night he chuckled with satisfaction as his put his own stamp on an old joke about airline peanuts. It was just that fresh.
Yard Chipmunk
I love chipmunks! If I were to choose a totem animal, it would be the chipmunk, though the choice would fall well short of manly.
When I was a kid, I was always in deep kimchi for stuffing my mouth. I liked to store my food up in my cheeks, then chew at my leisure without the interruption of scooping up more. Bad etiquette? I think not. I just took after our little striped treasurer here.
To see more chipmunk photos visit my website. Click on "Chipmunk Gallery" in the sidebar.
When I was a kid, I was always in deep kimchi for stuffing my mouth. I liked to store my food up in my cheeks, then chew at my leisure without the interruption of scooping up more. Bad etiquette? I think not. I just took after our little striped treasurer here.
To see more chipmunk photos visit my website. Click on "Chipmunk Gallery" in the sidebar.
Starkley Duncan's Diatribe: Censorship
Back in aught two, I did two versions of this Starkley cartoon about censorship. I was publishing lots of cartoons at the time, mostly in the alternative press, since that was (is) one of the few markets available for cartoons not insipid and inoffensive enough to make it in the Sunday edition of the larger papers.
In general, I am opposed to censorship, believing that the liberal should work toward a high degree of "freedom from restraint in speech and action." When I was a kid in the 1970s, I remember liberal-minded people advocating a very laissez-faire toward nudity, sexuality, the use of profanity, etc. I associated the urge to repress these facets of human behavior with the church and crusty oldsters, long-lived remnants of a bigone era.
By the 1990s, while in graduate school, I was chagrined, horrified really, to find that many folks who identified themselves as "liberals" had turned their backs on working toward greater freedom of expression. Instead, they followed an agenda of repression with a zeal I had previously associated with religious fanaticism, the extreme right wing, the Moral Majority and all that. This shift, as I perceived it, made these radical liberals, many of them post-modern scholars, seem more akin to conservatives than what I thought of as liberals.
I did two versions of this cartoon. In the first, I focused on the "forces of right-wing oppression," declining to comment on the similar tendency of some on the left. I did this to ensure that it was palitable to the liberal interests that dominate the alternative press. It was a practical decision that I never felt quite right about making. So, I decided to do a second version of the cartoon, targeting both right- and left-wing advocates of censorship. I like the second one much better, especially since it features some outstanding farmer tans.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Kayaking the Mississippi: Just Downstream from St. Anthony Falls
Click the links below to see historic photos of this area.
Historic photo showing Stone Arch Bridge
Historic photo showing Stone Arch Bridge
Historic photo showing Stone Arch Bridge
Historic photo showing Stone Arch Bridge
Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #72: Ribbon
Detail from Fluid Chromatic #72, or Ribbon, on side so it can be easily used as wallpaper. All of my epoxy paintings have a smooth, glassy, highly reflective surface. The epoxy resin is about 3/16ths of an inch thick giving them depth.Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.
Opossum at the Wildlife Rehab. Center
Toothy McBites-a-Lot here was treated for frostbite before being released back into the wild. Is he giving me the stink-eye? This one-eared opossum was one stinky, peevish marsupial, but his crazy whiskers kept me in good humor.
Michael W. Fox Comment Cartoon
I had mixed feelings about doing this cartoon because the sentiment in Michael's comment is admirable. It is a kind idea that is, unfortunately, founded on erroneous assumptions. I'm not sure if extreme comments like this help or hinder the cause they intend to bolster. I tend to think the do more harm than good.
The idea that we can live, or have ever lived, in harmony with nature is appealing, but it is wishful thinking. It is possible, where various factors control our population, for us to live in balance with nature, but that is a very different thing.
Now, the vegetarian, particularly the vegan, might bristle at these statements. But, think about it. Is it really possible for a person to live without killing other living things? The answer is no. All creatures compete with each other for limited resources. Those creatures who lose die. Those creatures who win live.
Take the strict vegetarian as a case in point. The vegetarian refuses to kill any animal for sport or food, or to eat animal flesh others have killed. This individual might take every precaution to avoid killing any creature he/she can, provided they are big enough for us to see. I admire this attitude. However, the vegetarian is still responsible for a great deal of death, as are we all. How so? Farming.
Farming is the organized process by which we out compete other animals for food in a given environment. When we farm, organic farming included, we set aside and control environments for our own benefit and actively prevent other creatures from enjoying the fruits of these habitats. As we have increased the amount of land we use, other animals have been forced to compete for food in increasingly smaller areas. The result has been life for some, death for others.
In this regard, and many others, existence is a sad thing.
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