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homealoneUncle B had to go on a business trip today, leaving me on my own in Badger House. For, like, the first time.

Uncle B works from home. Did I mention? So this was my first largely Badger-free day in six months.

There was pizza. And cake. Okay, banana bread — but banana bread really is cake, isn’t it? I don’t know why we call it bread.

There was playing of banjo and feeding of cat on the countertops. Also, I stood on something I shouldn’t’a to reach something I didn’t really need.

Oh, it was all orgy and anarchy up in Badger House today.

But he’s back now, so shhh…


Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: May 12, 2009, 7:41 pm

It smells strangely of… weasel in here.

And yes, cat… cat, too.

And… wait a minute! What’s that behind the sofa…..?!

Comment from dfbaskwill
Time: May 12, 2009, 8:43 pm

Banjo? Deliverance-type banjo? No wonder the pictured weasel looks scared. Appalachian-Americans don’t make banana bread, do they?

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: May 12, 2009, 9:05 pm

Dude. Duuude. I’m a third-generation Appalachian banjer-picker. My dad once owned the second-oldest banjo in the world (which, between you and me, looked like a hound-chewed stick. It’s in some museum now).

And yes we make banana bread. But we call them ‘nanners. And we only see them after Unca Julian goes to Nawlins.

Comment from Shambler
Time: May 12, 2009, 9:09 pm

Lawl… don’t go too ape or he’ll hire a Sitter next time.

Comment from Lokki
Time: May 12, 2009, 9:33 pm

For what it’s worth

There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a weasel with a banjo over there
Telling me there’s banana bread to share
I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down

There’s lots of fun when Badger is gone
Anything goes ‘cause there’s no one to say it’s wrong
Weasel’s reaching for something on a chair
Getting Stretched way out with one foot up in the air
I think it’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound?
Everybody look who’s fallin’ down

What a field-day for the cat
Eating on the counter and just getting fat
Weasel’s Singing songs and carrying on
All this just cause Badger is gone
It’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look who’s chowin down

Pizza cravings strike deep
Into your life it will creep
It strikes when Badger’s away
You bake up three big pies and eat pizza all day

We better stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, now, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look when Badger’s out of town

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: May 12, 2009, 9:36 pm


Comment from Roman Wolf
Time: May 12, 2009, 9:39 pm

Heck, what does Uncle Badger do? I’m asking more out of the fact that I’m going to graduate university soon and I have like, absolutely no job lined up(and no clue what I want to do). Except following the path of J.K. Rowling or Ann Coulter and write and hope it catches on. I know, everyone says not to get an English degree, but my uncle made it work, heck, he’s even a poet. And nobody but English majors and school children read poetry anymore. However, he makes a good living off of it.

Oh, Emo kids read poetry too…but typically their own crappy poetry.

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: May 12, 2009, 9:44 pm

He writes 🙂

Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: May 12, 2009, 9:57 pm


I eat worms.

Then I write.

Write, RW – if it’s what you really want to do then you don’t have any option, do you?

Comment from Roman Wolf
Time: May 12, 2009, 9:57 pm

I had a feeling that might of been the case(maybe that’s why I went prattling on about my own uncle, who knows). I may have to badger him for some advice one day. But today is not it, I need to finish up my final projects, all of which are due tomorrow. Hooray for waiting till the last minute.

Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: May 12, 2009, 10:03 pm

Oh, and as for peotry (ancient English joke) The Weasel falls around laughing whenever ‘Poetry Please’ comes on BBC Radio 4 and I start listening.

Apparently, peotry predisposes one to ‘homosexuality’. Or something.

I feel the same about John Wayne movies.

Apparently it’s a cultural difference.

Good luck with the projects, RW!

Comment from Lokki
Time: May 12, 2009, 10:08 pm

Hey Weasel – been off on a long strange trip which included a too intimate education in Japanese funeral customs….. been back from Japan for a while but the strange trip has continued since I’ve returned.

I’ve visited here, of course, but there just hasn’t been a lot of call for iambic pentameter or haiki so I’ve just been reading and enjoying

Comment from Lokki
Time: May 12, 2009, 10:25 pm

I’ve always loved poetry and never thought of it as sissy stuff. Of course I started out with Kipling and Clarence Leonard Hayes as a kid.

Hard to call The Lure of the Tropics homo sissy stuff. Just the stuff for young boys. FWIW I spent a couple of years in the tropics and he got it about right.

Oh, Roman Wolf, Badger is right. One doesn’t write for money, one writes because you must. Like most artists you’ll probably end up with a day job but it’s only to pay for the ink.

Comment from apotheosis
Time: May 12, 2009, 10:52 pm

We call banana bread “bread” because it means we can eat a whole damn loaf and know it’s good for us. The government says so, right there on that food pyramid thingie.

Comment from iamfelix
Time: May 12, 2009, 11:42 pm

On the subject of cake – if’n I’m rememberin’ rightly – doesn’t Stoaty have a birthday round about these times? If so, Happy Happy!

I’ve missed the Lokki songs.

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: May 13, 2009, 7:51 am

Heh. Waiting until the very last minute. I think Roman Wolf’s got the makings of a writer in him, at that.

Well remembered, Felix! Thank you. It is indeed the Birthday Month. I shall post about my loot anon. My loot. Let me show you it.

All my favorite poetry begins, “There once was a girl from Nantucket…”

Comment from dfbaskwill
Time: May 13, 2009, 8:57 am

S.Weasel, no offense meant about the banjo thing! My favorite part of the Central PA Arts Festival was the banjo contest until it got too commercial and the “professionals” invaded. And as a fan of the Appalachian Trail, I am humbly chastened to have offended thee. As a penance, I shall make a banana bread this weekend (as long as my daughter helps me).

Comment from wendyworn
Time: May 13, 2009, 9:37 am

“Whose toe was so big she could suck it” ah yes, good times.

Happy B-day Mrs. B.

Comment from Войска ПВО
Time: May 13, 2009, 10:51 am

S. Weasel, tell more of the banjo your dad owned, if appropriate. I used to play an old short-neck, peg-tuned, Vega Fairbanks.

Clawhammer? C or G tuning?

Comment from Dawn
Time: May 13, 2009, 11:23 am

Cute weasel up there – ‘specially the hands.
Being mostly from the left of the colonies I had no idea the Appalachians went all the way up into Pennsylvania. Yet another learning moment for me. This is better than Sesame Street.
My rose bushes looked funny this morning. Upon closer inspection they are covered in aphids. I nearly fainted from the sheer grossness of it. My hubber is buying me ladybugs as we speak.
Thanks to Lokki, I shall now be singing that stupid song all day and wishing my cat had claws so he could jump on a counter. Propaganda!

Comment from Gnus
Time: May 13, 2009, 11:25 am

John Wayne predisposes you toward homosexuality?

Uh Oh!

Comment from Roman Wolf
Time: May 13, 2009, 1:51 pm

To quote the orca a few posts down, “I’m free!”

Got all my damnable projects done. Now the summer is mine.

Comment from Allen
Time: May 13, 2009, 1:56 pm

OK, don’t laugh dammit, but there is such a thing: Cowboy Poetry

Hey you try riding for days at a time with no one to talk to but your horse.

Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: May 13, 2009, 4:35 pm

Ugh! It’s not just your roses, Dawn. I went out this morning to find one of my treasures quite badly affected.

I’m damned if I can work out what is wrong but it looks like die-back. The only cause I can think of is that we have had a cold 30mph (or more wind) howling through the garden for three days and the ground was alread dry.

It’s doubly irritating as it’s a brand new (and expensive) David Austin ‘Gertrude Jekyl’ that I planted just this year.

Gardening… a slow form of exquisite, expensive masochism.

Good luck with the predators.

Comment from S. Weasel
Time: May 13, 2009, 5:36 pm

Oh! Sorry, Войска ПВО. I didn’t see the question. My grandfather played drop-thumb (which may be another way of saying claw-hammer; I’m unclear on the distinctions). My dad plays Scruggs style, best he can manage it. In fact, Earl was his best friend when I was growing up (ugh…I hope that isn’t too Googleable).

I don’t so much play as practice plinky-plinky rolls as a sort of meditative exercise. A hillbilly mantra, if you will. I would’ve liked to have been a good musician but, after a promising start, I ran face-first into my limitations pretty young. I hit a plateau and just never got any better.

I forgive you, dfbaskwill. I usually let people make Deliverance banjo jokes for at least half an hour before I confess…

Comment from David Gillies
Time: May 14, 2009, 4:34 pm

My current favourite limerick:

There was a young lady from Bude
Who lived in a house in Bude
Her friends lived in Bude
She worked in Bude
That crazy young lady from Bude

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