sweasel.com

This post makes me want to watch Braveheart and then go moon someone.
Aye, fight and you may die, run, and you’ll live… at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin’ to trade ALL the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they’ll never take… OUR FREEDOM!

Bless you, Dawn! Years ago Bush visited Scotland and got mooned by protesters. I wrote a poem and haiku commemorating the moment – and have been waiting for the chance to introduce them here. Fo’ what’s its wort’:

The President found
The Scottish harvests’ richness
Autumn’s moon in June.

POTUS Mooned
6/17/01 McGoo

The Scottish clans – a magnificent race –
Can boo his words and moon his face.
I’ll always wonder in this case
Is this called talking face to face?

If it be so I have to say
The Scottish Babes can stay away.
‘Cause if their men all look like butts
I wonder if their Babes are sluts.

A thought – I wonder – about some apes
I saw on Nova that, facing hate,
Did rudely moon from tree to tree
Were they of Scottish ancestry?

But Bush – the pro – he didn’t blink
And on this subject he just winked
This message only did he send:
“Ah! Politics! It’s in the wind!”

Another balloon/lawnchair guy went up! Hurray!

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070710/ap_on_re_us/flying_lawn_chair

I saw a photo of him – in flight – but lost it. Rats!

Ever since Larry Walters (?) went up back in the 80’s, he’s been my hero. Even though he later committed suicide.

I’m so pleased with the news!

Lawnchair Balloon Guy
You are the wind ‘neath my wings
Balls big as…balloons!

Lawnchair Balloon Guy
Utah, ho! No risk too great!
…Only in this land!

Lawnchair Balloon Guy
May you forever sit tight
In your earned glory.

mornin’ McGoogly or whatever time of day it is.

balloon/lawnchair? erm.

Wow. An Oregonian got into the news without any casualties or maimings. That’s amazing.

(Shouting!) Top of the day to ya, Wabbit! It’s a wonnerful day and the sun is shining and all is swell in the universe! Have some coffee! Eat a bagel! Read the paper! Be of good cheer!

‘Cause another Lawnchair Balloon Guy went up!

Darn. The destination was Idaho, not Utah. Duh.

I don’t care! Nothing will dampen my happiness!

My heritage is German to the core but I never cared much for the food or traditional garb. Love English literature and countryside and history. But, I have a soft spot for the brave Scots. Braveheart and Rob Roy are favorite movies and I enjoy the heck out of celtic music.

Well, if no one else will fill this space, I will!

The nifty photo of the Lawnchair Balloon Guy is on Ace. Another duh on my part. And I still don’t care! By God, it’s a glorious day!

Yeah, yeah you will.

Every night I go to bed worried… “What if the warped poetry on weasel’s blog dries up? What if this is the end of our little corner of dysfunctional literarue in a world of cold, heartless prose?”

And every day you, Lokki and jw keep the dream alive.

So what if the dream closely resembles Wordsworth’s nightmares?

Sweasel’s post made me laugh so hard this morning. particularly this line: “I bobbled out of the seams like some obscene tartan sausage.”

“Obscene tartan sausage” can only evoke the image of Fat Bastard in his scottish outfit, sans the glossy sheen of sweat – I hope. Evocative phraseology is one of Weasel’s many talents.

I *refuse* to be brought down by Wordsworth’s darker imagery, or the idea that our silly poetic bon mots are a dying gasp in a world of dry prose! They are by us, for us, and beholding to no one! They exist because we WILL it – the ultimate middle-finger, upthrust at the universe – and their worth is precisely equal to the effort invested and pleasure had by the author.

The Lawnchair Balloon Guy *chose* to do that which he did – and he lived gloriously while doing it. I *choose* to be pleased with his achievement!

We all choose…some more consciously deliberate in their choice than others.

“Speak not to me of dry prose, man; I’d rhyme and meter the Inquisition if it suited me! Look ye, Minion, all visible poems are but as pasteboard masks. Some inscrutable yet lovely thing puts forth the molding of their features. The Villanelle tasks me; it heaps me. Yet it is but a mask. ‘Tis the thing behind the mask I chiefly love; the delicate, creative thing that has pleased Mankind since time began; the thing that soothes and gives heart to our race, not nourishing us outright but letting us live on, if only with half a chance and half a hope.”

(Herman Melville – what Ahab *should* have said – about poetry.)

*reads this through twice*

….you’re really bored, huh?

Me, Wabbit? Yes. Uh, and in pain. No meds allowed now. Trying to distract myself – at your expense, I guess. Sorry.

Aw shut it. Didn’t mean it like that, It’s been funny.

Sorry you’re in pain. I have a post up today featuring a rhino’s ass…
can you imagine the haiku’s?

*coaxing tone*

“Ode to a uni-horn’s bum…”

Did you say Rhino’s ass?!

Opportunity knocks…your place or here?

Both!

It’s hard to write a haiku that incorporates the word ‘Savannah’

Hyenas titter
as you pass. swinging that la-
cy rhino’s ass. (ass.)

(haiku is not my medium)

A G-stringed Rhinoceros’ ass
Was once sighted while it took a bath.
“Oh-ho! What have we here!”,
Said the wife to her dear,
“If I wear one, will you make a pass?”

Rhinoceros ass
G-stringed, for some strange reason
Hope ever endures.

Bravo.

Does anything, like, rhyme with savannah?

manna

Wabbit – Try:

http://www.rhymezone.com/

for all your everyday rhyming needs!

Ah-ha!

This looks like a secret weapon.

Oh, this is great. ‘Indiana’. *ironic look*… I shoulda got that one.

Wabbit – I can’t count the number of times I’ve said exactly the same thing!

There once was a Rhino named Hannah
With an ass as big as the savannah
When she boogied it shook, said the brave man who looked
in a very provocative manner….

Oh damn, it was supposed to be haiku, not a lymric. OK,, then:

Rhinoceros Ass
Splendid in a bright green thong
who can look away?

The thoughts expressed in this haiku are those forced him by the subject given, and number of syllables available to work with and do not necessarily represent the opinions or sexual proclivities, or preferences of the author)

Big Kilted Rhino Ass
Horrible Scottish Nightmare
Awaits you tonight

Now there’s a visual for you – sweet dreams!

Yay, Lokki! That’s worse that the vision of “Obscene tartan sausage”.

A rhinoceros, g-stringed, a loon
Tried to fly using lawnchair balloons
But her butt-floss was caught
By a ‘gater, it’s thought,
And her g-string did twang quite a tune.

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…..

McGoo what hast thou wrought?

Now I’m going to be afraid to go to sleep tonight.

It was bad enough the time we ate the mushrooms and then watched Fantasia….

My last crack (sorry) at this before driving home.

Rhino Butt crack sounds
are a musical delight
If you like that sort of thing

Limerick – haiku – medium of your choice. Weasel ain’t here!

Even a friggin’ villanelle, if ya can. I’m batting zero on those. They’re hard!

Ah-ha!

Rhino butt-crack sounds
And in what musical key?
G-string Augmented!

BTW: “Butt-floss” was a modification of “anal floss” – a sweet, lovely term wholly-owned by Bongo Mirror. Sorry for the lack of attribution.

“Rhino butt-crack sounds
And in what musical key?
G-string Augmented”

That was beautiful.

You can apologize to bongo, but if you do you’ll likely end up befuzzled before the exchange is through.

For instance, I now know more about a giant ice-licking Old Norse cow than I ever imagined there was to know.

I’m not sure I want to know about ‘Ol Ice Licker. I cherish my ignorance on this subject.

I did apologize to Bongo, lightly. I doubt he/she will hold it against me since it falls in the “parody” use law – I think.

I blew the “augmented” part, also, I think. I suspect Augmented refers to a chord configuration- not a key signature. Ah, well. I’m sure any musical types out there will be happy to educate me.

Y’know, I can’t quite get the image of Weas’ Dad posturing around in scottish dress. I wish my dad had done that.

So you like rhyme site? It’s not as useful as it might seem. I usually do these things in a pooping-stream-of-consciousness mode – and I fall back on it when I’m one word short of done, and don’t want to totally re-write. Its hit-or-miss in those cases. Voyeur came from there, but only because – by god! – I wanted that grandeur and du-jur in there.

I think that’s why I’m stymied by the villanelle. It takes too much planning ahead of time.

It’s a cool site. I got vilanelle off of another site, i think Dawn posted the link.

There’s sort of a bunker aura about this place today, I wonder if Europe got blown up or something.

Do you know any of these great poems that have been getting bastardized by heart, or do you use references?

I hear you on “bunker aura”. I always fear I drove everyone away with my incessant posting.

Yeah, I think Dawn posted the site. Which is now bookmarked for future reference, thankee, Dawn.

Did I know them by heart? I wish I could say yes – but – no. I’ve read essentially ALL of ’em at one time or another, but memory doesn’t serve well anymore. I usually look ’em up if I’m gonna soil ’em. It’s only fair!

Some – like Ahab’s speech, or Ozymandias – I’ve read many times. That’s the beauty of good literature: how an idea is expressed.

Yeah, and sometimes it’s how the words are formed when you’re saying them, they satisfy.

In Xanadu did Khubla Khan
a stately pleasure dome decree
where ALPH the sacred river ran
through caverns measureless to man
into a sunless sea…

I mean you can wrap your mouth around those words. They work with quiet contemplation, but they’re better to say them aloud.

I think my favorite poem ever is this one by Longfellow:

http://www.bartleby.com/102/65.html

although, I really like certain Emily Dickinson.

Whoa! You picked one I used to read regularly, and haven’t read in a decade.

This is my life-long guiding verse.

http://www.bartleby.com/103/7.html

I remember either reading or hearing that Khubla Khan was a dream… a terribly real, vivid dream, and Coleridge began to scratch it out on fever, just as it appears the moment he woke from the dream..

But then some damnable fool rang the doorbell, and wouldn’t go away, and when he answered and talked to the person, he lost the dream, so the world never got to hear the rest of his vision of Xanadu.

Nice. I don’t know that I’ve ever read that. I like how it ends.

and I’m sure I’ve heard that part before, “I am the captain of my soul.”

That’s my understanding, with the caveat that it was a dream induced by opium, or whatever. I guess we could Snopes it – but I think I’d like to leave it there.

Wabbit – have you noticed that jwp (among many others)has not made an appearance? I really don’t see how he could pass up Lawnchair Balloon Guy, Rhinoceros G-strings, and Scottish stuff.

Here – this may help: Wardo the Indian Boy!

*sheepish look*

I mentioned already, he was on the menu for the wabbit-household breakfast.

Time to do dishes. gl w/the hip.

Invictus – to me – is a scream of independence and life, knowing death is inevitable. “I will not go gently into that good night” in other form.

The lines:

I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul

are oft-quoted in whole or in part all over the place.

Oh, yeah! I forgot – he cooked a bunny in roadkill haiku. Oops.

Night, Wabbit!

McGoo – I too am addicted to old poetry – and like you I grew up on Service, Kipling, and the like.

Below is a favorite that I memorized at one point in my youth. I can’t say that it’s the motto of my life, but it was formative. I also have to say that it was very much in my mind when the Lokki’s lived in Central America for a couple of years…. and I found it quite accurate.

The Lure of the Tropics

And, McGoo – here’s one for you in honor of your attitude towards your surgery.

The Little Red God

Good luck to you on your surgery…. It’ll be over soon

I took the challenge and researched my maiden name coat of arms. http://www.5dollarcoatsofarms.com/gallery/F/pages/image029.html
family motto
By Fidelity and Fortitude

I like my married name family motto better…
The soothed cat is gentle.
The Irish are far more poetic.

That’s cool, Dawn! Yours is way more interesting than my own. Ours is just a “Lion Rampant” with a slanting banner and a religious cross.

I’d read up on heraldry and coats of arms years ago; I’m the family genealogist. Love it! Ya know all that stuff on the shield means sumpin? I haven’t a clue as to what, though. Can’t remember. Also, the knights helmet at the top? It matters whether it is facing the viewer or turned to its’ right. (I don’t think I ever saw one to the left.) But I don’t remember why. Something about how “close” the family is to the King, or their rank – I think.

Neat stuff, though.

Not that anyone really cares but I linked to the wrong name. http://www.5dollarcoatsofarms.com/gallery/F/pages/image030.html
We are the sons of farquhar. Way worse.