Once again I venture back into that fascinating world of H.P. Lovecraft and feature one of his best (and longest) poetic pieces, "Fungi from Yuggoth." This piece is presented in 36 parts. Here is my favorite of the bunch:
XX. Night-Gaunts
Out of what crypt they crawl, I cannot tell,
But every night I see the rubbery things,
Black, horned, and slender, with membraneous wings,
And tails that bear the bifid barb of hell.
They come in legions on the north wind’s swell,
With obscene clutch that titillates and stings,
Snatching me off on monstrous voyagings
To grey worlds hidden deep in nightmare’s well.
Over the jagged peaks of Thok they sweep,
Heedless of all the cries I try to make,
And down the nether pits to that foul lake
Where the puffed shoggoths splash in doubtful sleep.
But oh! If only they would make some sound,
Or wear a face where faces should be found!
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Coaster compendium detail #1
Going back to those descriptions I promised you a while back, I'd like to talk about the roller coasters I've got under my belt--or that have had me under their belt as it were. It's all adding up to this summer, when I plan on adding a few more to the list on my quest for 100 coasters. This is exciting.
To begin with, it's fortunate that the first coaster I ever remember riding happens to be the first one alphabetically as well.
When American Eagle was built in 1981, it set world records for:
- Fastest roller coaster (66 mph)
- Largest drop on a roller coaster (147 ft)
- Tallest wooden roller coaster (127 ft)
- Fastest wooden racing roller coaster (66 mph)
- Longest wooden racing coaster (4,650 ft)
- Tallest wooden racing coaster (127 ft)
- Largest drop on a wooden racing coaster (147 ft)
American Thunder is a GCI wooden coaster at Six Flags St. Louis that opened in 2008 as Evel Knievel. It maintained its motorcycle daredevil theme throughout the rebranding that took place three years later. For the past five years, this has traditionally been the first coaster we hit once we first come in to the park. It may only go 48 mph and be a mere 82 ft in height, but it has got some really fantastic banked curves and hills, and a lot of them, too--checking in at a respectable length of 2,713 ft. On top of all that, it's not only incredibly smooth, but the first time I rode it I reported to my wife that the seats were soft & comfy like an easy chair. American Thunder never set any records, but it still endures as a really fun and thrilling ride, and a great starting point for the little guys just starting out on their coaster adventures.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
National Poetry Month #24
For this 24th day of National Poetry Month, I will dig into my past and pull out another original piece. I don't know if anyone remembers this news story from 2002,
about the dude that ran a crematorium in Noble, Georgia. Ray Brent Marsh had stashed away literally hundreds of bodies over all the 16
acres of crematorium-owned land. He hadn't actually cremated anyone in years &
had been giving families concrete dust instead of the ashes of their loved ones.
This guy was a real grade-A lowlife weirdo piece of shit nutjob. Apparently there's an independent movie from 2011 based on this story, called Sahkanaga. I haven't seen it, but I'm going to check Netflix tonight. Anyway, I wrote this poem about the tragedy when it was originally in the news 13 years ago.
MARSH LAND
by Shane McGraw
Ashes you promised,
Concrete you gave.
Furnaces dormant,
Wanting the flames of freedom.
Flesh and bones
Dumped,
Humiliated, forgotten.
Delivered from their dignity.
"You can't walk for the bodies"
The dead do not rest in Noble
At Tri-State they remain--
Defiled,
Dishonored, disrespected.
Sixteen acres of hell.
Over it all you stood,
You walked and you laughed--
Ray Brent, the Angel of Undeath,
Master of a new Georgian Holocaust.
This guy was a real grade-A lowlife weirdo piece of shit nutjob. Apparently there's an independent movie from 2011 based on this story, called Sahkanaga. I haven't seen it, but I'm going to check Netflix tonight. Anyway, I wrote this poem about the tragedy when it was originally in the news 13 years ago.
MARSH LAND
by Shane McGraw
Ashes you promised,
Concrete you gave.
Furnaces dormant,
Wanting the flames of freedom.
Flesh and bones
Dumped,
Humiliated, forgotten.
Delivered from their dignity.
"You can't walk for the bodies"
The dead do not rest in Noble
At Tri-State they remain--
Defiled,
Dishonored, disrespected.
Sixteen acres of hell.
Over it all you stood,
You walked and you laughed--
Ray Brent, the Angel of Undeath,
Master of a new Georgian Holocaust.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
National Poetry Month #23
The dogs had their day(s) a couple days ago, so in the interest of equal time I will present one of my favorite cat poems. Here's one I really like, from Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats (a really great book, by the way, for anyone who loves cats or poetry, or both):
THE RUM TUM TUGGER
by T.S. Eliot
The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat then he'd rather chase a mouse.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any call for me to shout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:
When you let him in, then he wants to be out;
He's always on the wrong side of every door,
And as soon as he's at home, then he'd like to get about.
He likes to lie in the bureau drawer,
But he makes such a fuss if he can't get out.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any use for you to doubt it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast:
His disobliging ways are a matter of habit.
If you offer him fish then he always wants a feast;
When there isn't any fish then he won't eat rabbit.
If you offer him cream then he sniffs and sneers,
For he only likes what he finds for himself;
So you'll catch him in it right up to the ears,
If you put it away on the larder shelf.
The Rum Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The Rum Tum Tugger doesn't care for a cuddle;
But he'll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there's nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any need for me to spout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
THE RUM TUM TUGGER
by T.S. Eliot
The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:
If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.
If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,
If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.
If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,
If you set him on a rat then he'd rather chase a mouse.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any call for me to shout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore:
When you let him in, then he wants to be out;
He's always on the wrong side of every door,
And as soon as he's at home, then he'd like to get about.
He likes to lie in the bureau drawer,
But he makes such a fuss if he can't get out.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any use for you to doubt it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious beast:
His disobliging ways are a matter of habit.
If you offer him fish then he always wants a feast;
When there isn't any fish then he won't eat rabbit.
If you offer him cream then he sniffs and sneers,
For he only likes what he finds for himself;
So you'll catch him in it right up to the ears,
If you put it away on the larder shelf.
The Rum Tum Tugger is artful and knowing,
The Rum Tum Tugger doesn't care for a cuddle;
But he'll leap on your lap in the middle of your sewing,
For there's nothing he enjoys like a horrible muddle.
Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat--
And there isn't any need for me to spout it:
For he will do
As he do do
And there's no doing anything about it!
Monday, April 22, 2013
National Poetry Month #22
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| ME via INSTAGRAM: Downtown Peoria is due for record flooding by Tuesday. |
With that thought in mind. I present a quirky, thought-provoking, sad yet serene poem by a true American master.
HOW THE WATERS CLOSED ABOVE HIM
by Emily Dickinson
How the Waters closed above Him
We shall never know -
How He stretched His Anguish to us
That - is covered too -
Spreads the Pond Her Base of Lilies
Bold above the Boy
Whose unclaimed Hat and Jacket
Sum the History -
Sunday, April 21, 2013
National Poetry Month #21
The other day I featured a poem about a dog which, though humorous, was honestly a bit depressing. Here's something about man's best friend with more of a feel-good, lazy summer day vibe.
SUNNING
by James S. Tippett
Old Dog lay in the summer sun
Much too lazy to rise and run.
He flapped an ear
At a buzzing fly.
He winked a half open
Sleepy eye.
He scratched himself
On an itching spot,
As he dozed on the porch
Where the sun was hot.
He whimpered a bit
From force of habit
While he lazily dreamed
Of chasing a rabbit.
But Old Dog happily lay in the sun
Much too lazy to rise and run.
SUNNING
by James S. Tippett
Old Dog lay in the summer sun
Much too lazy to rise and run.
He flapped an ear
At a buzzing fly.
He winked a half open
Sleepy eye.
He scratched himself
On an itching spot,
As he dozed on the porch
Where the sun was hot.
He whimpered a bit
From force of habit
While he lazily dreamed
Of chasing a rabbit.
But Old Dog happily lay in the sun
Much too lazy to rise and run.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
National Poetry Month #20
But I'm sure there are still plenty of potheads out there. In your honor, today I present a short collection of even shorter poems--the kind that your average teenage-to-early-20s boy might think was kinda awesome when he wrote them under the influence of the devil's weed some 15 to 20 years ago.
Have a happy day, you stoners. Enjoy your youth, but do it responsibly. Those of you over the age of 30--grow up already. Those of you with children--shame on you. You're responsible for more lives than just your own. Act like it. Well, maybe except for today. Have fun today, but then join the real world tomorrow, will ya?
Club ded
Naked bodies floating
Inward poolside,
outward leaving.
-----------------------
The first words
he ever heard,
while digging around
his anus with a spoon,
were
Please, mama
Please, mama
Please don't let me burn.
-----------------------
THE VERGE OF SLEEP
35:09 forgot why I am writing--
Dead people
63 of them are not the murdered
And the rest of them be serviced out for bed
with my hand of steel.
Shit.
The Lincoln-bug shyness and filth--
The longest I try...
Think I fall asleep soon
-----------------------
Darkness permeates the cell
The criminal finds his hell
The innocent cry as well
-----------------------
Flip fuckin' flop.
Friday, April 19, 2013
National Poetry Month #19
Short on time today. No big intro, just that I like this poem (obviously)...
by John Ciardi
Stiff-dog death, all froth on a bloody chin,
sniffs at the curb. Skinny-man death, his master,
opens the traffic's hedge to let him in.
Jog was his name, silliness his disaster.
He wasn't satisfied to scare the truck:
he had to bite the tire. Fools have no luck.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
National Poetry Day #18
Wow! This very cool sonnet just arrived to me via @qikipedia on Twitter. I was only slightly impressed until I researched it a bit and found out it was written in 1936. The poet couldn't simply hit the ol' Internet Anagram Generator and piece together lines from what it spewed back to him. He had to very deliberately and methodically figure this out and make the result not only make sense, but freaking RHYME too! Incredible! I love it!
Believe it or not, each line is an anagram of the title.
WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE
by David Shulman
A hard, howling, tossing water scene.
Strong tide was washing hero clean.
"How cold!" Weather stings as in anger.
O Silent night shows war ace danger!
The cold waters swashing on in rage.
Redcoats warn slow his hint engage.
When star general's action wish'd "Go!"
He saw his ragged continentals row.
Ah, he stands – sailor crew went going.
And so this general watches rowing.
He hastens – winter again grows cold.
A wet crew gain Hessian stronghold.
George can't lose war with's hands in;
He's astern – so go alight, crew, and win!
Believe it or not, each line is an anagram of the title.
WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE
by David Shulman
A hard, howling, tossing water scene.
Strong tide was washing hero clean.
"How cold!" Weather stings as in anger.
O Silent night shows war ace danger!
The cold waters swashing on in rage.
Redcoats warn slow his hint engage.
When star general's action wish'd "Go!"
He saw his ragged continentals row.
Ah, he stands – sailor crew went going.
And so this general watches rowing.
He hastens – winter again grows cold.
A wet crew gain Hessian stronghold.
George can't lose war with's hands in;
He's astern – so go alight, crew, and win!
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
National Poetry Month #17
A Martian astronomer, eh? Yesterday's post segues perfectly (Prefectly?) into today's. For though it's technically National Poetry Month, there's nobody saying we don't welcome the enthusiasm of folks from other countries... worlds... or even solar systems.
Why, the Vogons from Douglas Adams' comic sci-fi masterpiece The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy are great lovers of poetry (though the Guide indicates that their poetry is actually artistically the third worst in the universe).
Here's a wonderful example:
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath bitled out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious inner-sphincter. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't.
 |
| Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz has quite a way with words. |
Why, the Vogons from Douglas Adams' comic sci-fi masterpiece The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy are great lovers of poetry (though the Guide indicates that their poetry is actually artistically the third worst in the universe).
Here's a wonderful example:
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath bitled out,
Its earted jurtles,
Into a rancid festering confectious inner-sphincter. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and slipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't.
Oh, Netflix, what will you do next?
I love that Netflix is getting into original programming now. The Kevin Spacey political drama House of Cards is apparently doing well with both the public and critics. I dig Spacey, so I watched the first couple of episodes. It was neat but not really my thing. Glad it's doing well, though. It's successes like this which will continue to pave the way for other original projects like the new season of Arrested Development that is slated to release exclusively on Netflix on Memorial Day 2013.
It's also opened the door for programming that would never see the light of day on regular cable TV. The original werewolf horror program Hemlock Grove, which sees release in just a few days, is going to make all the adult content on BBC America, AMC and FX look like Romper Room outtakes.
Here's the extremely NSFW Red Band trailer, which warns in advance that the trailer itself contains "mild fornication, fellatio, heavy cocaine use, lesbian necrophilia and violent hemorrhaging." ...Not sure what makes lesbian necrophilia worth pointing out specifically. Is it really any more deplorable than straight necrophilia?
Now that you've seen that, how about a closer look at that werewolf transformation. Note that the mythos of this show has already set itself apart from every other werewolf picture I've seen in that the beast really is quite literally within. Take a look at the show's logo. It gives a further clue as to what sets this show apart from other werewolf lore. Here's that transformation scene:
Yep. It started with his eyeballs being poked out by the new ones developing behind them. Then his wolf teeth pushed all the human ones out. That canine hair didn't grow out of his existing follicles. The hairy body ripped through the human flesh. Ew. Seriously.
As I was watching I asked myself, Really? How does this town explain all the bloody, fleshy, gooey human remains puddles scattered throughout the forest every full moon? Then the clip answered me. Ew. Again. Hey, transforming into a beautiful and deadly wolf makes a guy hungry.
I am not sure I am going to watch this show. I'll probably check out the first episode, but I'm in no rush to do so. I'm curious about the effects more than anything. And to find out how they work with those new twists to the old mythology. Oh, and to find out why the guy's friends aren't fearing for their lives as they witness that transformation.
Netflix deserves kudos anyway for striking out in this new direction. Scoring Spacey for their initial outing into original programming was a major plus for them. Grabbing the Arrested Development helm and running with that is probably a great move too. What's the angle on this one? Appeasing the Twilight crowd and the traditional horror fans all in one? Killer special effects? Pushing the envelope of taste further than even American Horror Story?
Time will tell if Hemlock Grove proves to be a success or a stumbling block. Either way, Netflix has taken the gloves off and is not messing around. It's poised to become a powerhouse in narrative visual media distribution (and creation).
It's also opened the door for programming that would never see the light of day on regular cable TV. The original werewolf horror program Hemlock Grove, which sees release in just a few days, is going to make all the adult content on BBC America, AMC and FX look like Romper Room outtakes.
Here's the extremely NSFW Red Band trailer, which warns in advance that the trailer itself contains "mild fornication, fellatio, heavy cocaine use, lesbian necrophilia and violent hemorrhaging." ...Not sure what makes lesbian necrophilia worth pointing out specifically. Is it really any more deplorable than straight necrophilia?
Now that you've seen that, how about a closer look at that werewolf transformation. Note that the mythos of this show has already set itself apart from every other werewolf picture I've seen in that the beast really is quite literally within. Take a look at the show's logo. It gives a further clue as to what sets this show apart from other werewolf lore. Here's that transformation scene:
Yep. It started with his eyeballs being poked out by the new ones developing behind them. Then his wolf teeth pushed all the human ones out. That canine hair didn't grow out of his existing follicles. The hairy body ripped through the human flesh. Ew. Seriously.
As I was watching I asked myself, Really? How does this town explain all the bloody, fleshy, gooey human remains puddles scattered throughout the forest every full moon? Then the clip answered me. Ew. Again. Hey, transforming into a beautiful and deadly wolf makes a guy hungry.
I am not sure I am going to watch this show. I'll probably check out the first episode, but I'm in no rush to do so. I'm curious about the effects more than anything. And to find out how they work with those new twists to the old mythology. Oh, and to find out why the guy's friends aren't fearing for their lives as they witness that transformation.
Netflix deserves kudos anyway for striking out in this new direction. Scoring Spacey for their initial outing into original programming was a major plus for them. Grabbing the Arrested Development helm and running with that is probably a great move too. What's the angle on this one? Appeasing the Twilight crowd and the traditional horror fans all in one? Killer special effects? Pushing the envelope of taste further than even American Horror Story?
Time will tell if Hemlock Grove proves to be a success or a stumbling block. Either way, Netflix has taken the gloves off and is not messing around. It's poised to become a powerhouse in narrative visual media distribution (and creation).
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
National Poetry Month #16
Honestly, after yesterday what more can be said?
EARTH
by John Hall Wheelock
"A planet doesn't simply explode of itself," said drily
The Martian astronomer, gazing off into the air--
"That they were able to do it is proof that highly
Intelligent beings must have been living there."
EARTH
by John Hall Wheelock
"A planet doesn't simply explode of itself," said drily
The Martian astronomer, gazing off into the air--
"That they were able to do it is proof that highly
Intelligent beings must have been living there."
Monday, April 15, 2013
Godless morality
In the immediate aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombing
earlier today, a coworker struck up a conversation with another coworker right
next to my desk.
“All this reminds me of a man I heard speak recently. He brought up a very good point. In the last 20 or 30 years, since these mass shootings and all this garbage has escalated, what is the main thing that has changed in society?”
I knew where this was going, so I tried to steer it another way by chiming in. “A lot of things have changed in the last few decades.”
“Like what?” I was challenged.
“Technology has come leaps and bounds. Communication is almost instantaneous, and it’s worldwide. Civil rights and tolerance of others’ lifestyles are expanding…”
Not what she was fishing for. “The lack of morals and values,” she explained. “This country has suffered a serious decline in the presence of morals and values. And it’s because we’ve taken God out of everything. God is out of government. God is out of our schools. God is not number one in everyone’s lives. Only God and the church can bring those morals and values back to our kids. We have to educate them and guide them or we are in real trouble as a country and a world.”
Coworker number two nodded in agreement and voiced her approval, “I agree with you 100%. It’s a sad state we are in.”
...I had to say it: “Well, I disagree.”
Coworker number two, who knows me a bit better than number one, said, “I know you do." And I could tell she didn't really want to hear more.
But I continued. ”There is no way to pin the decline of civilization down to any one cause. Too much has changed. There’s no control to compare against. Even if you could, there is no one magical cure-all that is going to fix it. And religion isn’t a necessary prerequisite for morality.”
That shut the conversation completely down. That was probably a good thing. I am getting tired of hiding who I am simply because I have an unpopular opinion. If people want to engage in theological discussion, they need to be prepared to actually have a discussion rather than a one-sided kowtowing session.
I was always told that three discussions do not belong in the workplace: religion, politics and sex. Our own HR videos state as much. But if the door is opened (and it is opened a LOT in this place) I’m prepared to go through it and into the realm of discussion.
I’m tired of hearing that the only way to learn morals is through Christianity. The qualities of empathy, altruism, love, honesty, respect, charity, compassion and kindness do not derive solely from the teachings of any one book, no matter how popular that book might be. They are ingrained in the human psyche, obviously in some humans more so than others. Deep down on a primal social level we realize that these qualities create predictable rules for behavior that are necessary to make society function.
Granted, putting those rules in writing and giving them a voice is one way to emphasize them, but they are already there for most people. Some people simply have no moral compass, or it is broken. Those are the ones doing the shooting, whether in the name of atheism, Satan, Jodie Foster or God (though I’ll bet dollars to donuts that God is the one on the top of the “blame” list).
How you come upon your sense of morality, it matters not. As long as you use it to make the world a better place, who cares? I do not currently get my social cues from a nonexistent, magical man in the sky, but he did have a hand in educating me about morality from an early age. Well, at least his book did.
Of course, during that education they left out most of the horrible bits about fathers stoning their own sons and such, focusing only on the positive lessons. I guess that book, if read from the wrong perspective, could cause a reader to come away with a… less-than-tolerant… and “holier than thou” position, which could actually be counterproductive to the betterment of society.
“All this reminds me of a man I heard speak recently. He brought up a very good point. In the last 20 or 30 years, since these mass shootings and all this garbage has escalated, what is the main thing that has changed in society?”
I knew where this was going, so I tried to steer it another way by chiming in. “A lot of things have changed in the last few decades.”
“Like what?” I was challenged.
“Technology has come leaps and bounds. Communication is almost instantaneous, and it’s worldwide. Civil rights and tolerance of others’ lifestyles are expanding…”
Not what she was fishing for. “The lack of morals and values,” she explained. “This country has suffered a serious decline in the presence of morals and values. And it’s because we’ve taken God out of everything. God is out of government. God is out of our schools. God is not number one in everyone’s lives. Only God and the church can bring those morals and values back to our kids. We have to educate them and guide them or we are in real trouble as a country and a world.”
Coworker number two nodded in agreement and voiced her approval, “I agree with you 100%. It’s a sad state we are in.”
...I had to say it: “Well, I disagree.”
Coworker number two, who knows me a bit better than number one, said, “I know you do." And I could tell she didn't really want to hear more.
But I continued. ”There is no way to pin the decline of civilization down to any one cause. Too much has changed. There’s no control to compare against. Even if you could, there is no one magical cure-all that is going to fix it. And religion isn’t a necessary prerequisite for morality.”
That shut the conversation completely down. That was probably a good thing. I am getting tired of hiding who I am simply because I have an unpopular opinion. If people want to engage in theological discussion, they need to be prepared to actually have a discussion rather than a one-sided kowtowing session.
I was always told that three discussions do not belong in the workplace: religion, politics and sex. Our own HR videos state as much. But if the door is opened (and it is opened a LOT in this place) I’m prepared to go through it and into the realm of discussion.
I’m tired of hearing that the only way to learn morals is through Christianity. The qualities of empathy, altruism, love, honesty, respect, charity, compassion and kindness do not derive solely from the teachings of any one book, no matter how popular that book might be. They are ingrained in the human psyche, obviously in some humans more so than others. Deep down on a primal social level we realize that these qualities create predictable rules for behavior that are necessary to make society function.
Granted, putting those rules in writing and giving them a voice is one way to emphasize them, but they are already there for most people. Some people simply have no moral compass, or it is broken. Those are the ones doing the shooting, whether in the name of atheism, Satan, Jodie Foster or God (though I’ll bet dollars to donuts that God is the one on the top of the “blame” list).
How you come upon your sense of morality, it matters not. As long as you use it to make the world a better place, who cares? I do not currently get my social cues from a nonexistent, magical man in the sky, but he did have a hand in educating me about morality from an early age. Well, at least his book did.
Of course, during that education they left out most of the horrible bits about fathers stoning their own sons and such, focusing only on the positive lessons. I guess that book, if read from the wrong perspective, could cause a reader to come away with a… less-than-tolerant… and “holier than thou” position, which could actually be counterproductive to the betterment of society.
National Poetry Month #15
Wow! Can National Poetry Month really be halfway over already? I can hardly believe it. I don't envy myself the tough choices that are in the next two weeks ahead of me. This evening I dug out an old poetry paperback I used to love reading, called Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle and Other Modern Verses. It was compiled by Stephen Dunning, Edward Lueders and Hugh Smith and originally published in 1966, though my 15th printing was done in 1974 and distributed by Scholastic.
Here's one of my favorite pieces from that book.
DUST
by Sydney King Russell
Agatha Morley
All her life
Grumbled at dust
Like a good wife.
Dust on a table,
Dust on a chair,
Dust on a mantel
She couldn't bear.
She forgave faults
In man and child
But a dusty shelf
Would set her wild.
She bore with sin
Without protest,
But dust thoughts preyed
Upon her rest.
Agatha Morley
Is sleeping sound
Six feet under
The mouldy ground.
Six feet under
The earth she lies
With dust at her feet
And dust in her eyes.
Here's one of my favorite pieces from that book.
DUST
by Sydney King Russell
Agatha Morley
All her life
Grumbled at dust
Like a good wife.
Dust on a table,
Dust on a chair,
Dust on a mantel
She couldn't bear.
She forgave faults
In man and child
But a dusty shelf
Would set her wild.
She bore with sin
Without protest,
But dust thoughts preyed
Upon her rest.
Agatha Morley
Is sleeping sound
Six feet under
The mouldy ground.
Six feet under
The earth she lies
With dust at her feet
And dust in her eyes.
Where did I go wrong with Zero Dark Thirty?
Someone tell me I'm dead wrong, please, and convince me to give it a second chance because all the reviews and online conversation I can find regarding this movie consider it one of the year's greatest films.
I saw Argo and loved it--I was on the edge of my seat throughout most of it... I saw Life of Pi and it truly inspired and resonated with me--I ruminated over it for at least an hour afterward... I saw Django Unchained and it blew my freaking mind... I thought director Kathryn Bigelow's other critically acclaimed, six-time Oscar-winning film The Hurt Locker was an incredible piece of filmmaking...
What did I miss in the first hour of Zero Dark Thirty that should have made me want to keep watching and find out what makes it so great? Did I just not give it enough of my time?
Please help. Thanks.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
National Poetry Month #14
The "Unicorn" post got me thinking more about my record collection, which in turn focused my attention on the selection of hilarious Smothers Brothers LPs in my library. Logically, then, I must present another Shel Silverstein poem, and you'll see why. Dick Smothers gave a little tune to this one and recorded an extremely abbreviated version of it for the It Must Have Been Something I Said! record in 1964.I've always loved this album. It has some of my favorite Smothers tracks on it, including "Hiawatha" and "Crabs Walk Sideways," both of which I still find myself humming on occasion, decades after my last listen. Looking back, though, knowing what I know now, I envision a completely different interpretation of the following poem than Silverstein intended. I'm sure Lovecraft was never on his mind when he penned:
THE SLITHERY DEE
by Shel Silverstein
The Slithery Dee
He lives in the sea
He saw all the others
But he didn’t see me.
The Slithery Dee
He came out of the sea
He chased all the others
But he didn’t chase me.
The Slithery Dee
I hid in a tree
He caught all the others
But he couldn’t catch me.
The Slithery Dee
He went back to the sea
He ate all the others
But he didn’t eat me.
The Slithery Dee
Oh where can he be?
He ate all the others
But he’ll never eat … S-L-U-U-U-R-P!
Saturday, April 13, 2013
National Poetry Month #13
Happy National Poetry Month (and National Scrabble Day as well)! Today I bring you a fun little piece from a true American wordsmith.
TO AN INSECT
by Oliver Wendell Holmes
I love to hear thine earnest voice,
Wherever thou art hid,
Thou testy little dogmatist,
Thou pretty Katydid!
Thou mindest me of gentlefolks,--
Old gentlefolks are they,--
Thou say'st an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.
Thou art a female, Katydid!
I know it by the trill
That quivers through thy piercing notes,
So petulant and shrill;
I think there is a knot of you
Beneath the hollow tree,--
A knot of spinster Katydids,--
Do Katydids drink tea?
Oh, tell me where did Katy live,
And what did Katy do?
And was she very fair and young,
And yet so wicked, too?
Did Katy love a naughty man,
Or kiss more cheeks than one?
I warrant Katy did no more
Than many a Kate has done.
Dear me! I'll tell you all about
My fuss with little Jane,
And Ann, with whom I used to walk
So often down the lane,
And all that tore their locks of black,
Or wet their eyes of blue,--
Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid,
What did poor Katy do?
Ah no! the living oak shall crash,
That stood for ages still,
The rock shall rend its mossy base
And thunder down the hill,
Before the little Katydid
Shall add one word, to tell
The mystic story of the maid
Whose name she knows so well.
Peace to the ever-murmuring race!
And when the latest one
Shall fold in death her feeble wings
Beneath the autumn sun,
Then shall she raise her fainting voice,
And lift her drooping lid,
And then the child of future years
Shall hear what Katy did.
TO AN INSECT
by Oliver Wendell Holmes
I love to hear thine earnest voice,
Wherever thou art hid,
Thou testy little dogmatist,
Thou pretty Katydid!
Thou mindest me of gentlefolks,--
Old gentlefolks are they,--
Thou say'st an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.
Thou art a female, Katydid!
I know it by the trill
That quivers through thy piercing notes,
So petulant and shrill;
I think there is a knot of you
Beneath the hollow tree,--
A knot of spinster Katydids,--
Do Katydids drink tea?
Oh, tell me where did Katy live,
And what did Katy do?
And was she very fair and young,
And yet so wicked, too?
Did Katy love a naughty man,
Or kiss more cheeks than one?
I warrant Katy did no more
Than many a Kate has done.
Dear me! I'll tell you all about
My fuss with little Jane,
And Ann, with whom I used to walk
So often down the lane,
And all that tore their locks of black,
Or wet their eyes of blue,--
Pray tell me, sweetest Katydid,
What did poor Katy do?
Ah no! the living oak shall crash,
That stood for ages still,
The rock shall rend its mossy base
And thunder down the hill,
Before the little Katydid
Shall add one word, to tell
The mystic story of the maid
Whose name she knows so well.
Peace to the ever-murmuring race!
And when the latest one
Shall fold in death her feeble wings
Beneath the autumn sun,
Then shall she raise her fainting voice,
And lift her drooping lid,
And then the child of future years
Shall hear what Katy did.
Friday, April 12, 2013
National Poetry Month #12
Here's one of my favorites from the legendary Lizard King himself.
THE MOVIE
by Jim Morrison
The movie will begin in five moments
The mindless voice announced
All those unseated will await the next show.
We filed slowly, languidly into the hall
The auditorium was vast and silent
As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued.
The program for this evening is not new
You've seen this entertainment through and through
You've seen your birth your life and death
you might recall all of the rest
Did you have a good world when you died?
Enough to base a movie on?
THE MOVIE
by Jim Morrison
The movie will begin in five moments
The mindless voice announced
All those unseated will await the next show.
We filed slowly, languidly into the hall
The auditorium was vast and silent
As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued.
The program for this evening is not new
You've seen this entertainment through and through
You've seen your birth your life and death
you might recall all of the rest
Did you have a good world when you died?
Enough to base a movie on?
I'm getting out of here Where are you going?
To the other side of morning Please don't chase the clouds,
pagodas
Her cunt gripped him like a warm, friendly hand.
Her cunt gripped him like a warm, friendly hand.
It's alright, all your friends are here When
can I meet them? After you've eaten I'm not hungry Uh, we
meant beaten
Silver stream, silvery scream
Oooooh, impossible concentration.
Oooooh, impossible concentration.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Today is a perfect storm of celebrations
Not only is today the 11th day of National Poetry Month, I just found out it's also National 8-Track Day! How do these two celebrations perfectly intertwine with one another? In the memory of my favorite 8-track as a child, combined with the swath of stormy weather plaguing the Midwest over the last day or two.
When I was a kid, I absolutely loved the Irish Rovers' album The Unicorn. I still do, actually... Not the 8-track so much, but I do have it stashed in a box somewhere still because of its sentimental value; never mind that I have copies on vinyl and CD as well. It endures to this day as one of my all-time favorite feel-good albums.
The title track from that album was the only chart hit for the group here in the U.S. (possibly abroad too, though I can't corroborate that). It was penned by the famous comedic poet, Mr. Shel Silverstein. Bear with me, I'm going to tie the perfect storm up in a nice little bow now.
If you are unfamiliar with the lyrics, they happen to be the story of the unicorn's extinction. See, they missed out on Noah's ark ride because they were too busy playing in the rain. Aaaand there's our tie in. It's been raining quite a lot lately, and we have flood warnings and all out here by the Illinois River. Bam!
Anyway, to honor both National Poetry Month and National 8-Track Day, I present to you the lyrics of that classic Irish Rovers tune, "The Unicorn."
THE UNICORN
by Shel Silverstein
A long time ago, when the earth was green
There was more kinds of animals than you've ever seen,
They'd run around free while the earth was bein' born,
And the loveliest of all was the unicorn.
There were green alligators and long-neck geese.
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
The loveliest of all was the unicorn.
Now God seen some sinnin', and it gave him pain.
He said, "Stand back, I'm goin' to make it rain."
He said, "Hey Brother Noah, I'll tell ya what ta do.
Build me a floatin' zoo."
"And take some of them green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
Don't you forget my unicorn."
Now Noah was there, he answered the call
And finished up making the ark just as the rain started to fall.
He marched in the animals two by two,
And he called out as they went through,
"Hey Lord, I got your green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants -- but Lord, I'm so forlorn
I just don't see no unicorn."
Ol' Noah looked out through the drivin' rain
Them unicorns were hidin', playin' silly games.
They were kickin' and splashin' as the rain was pourin'.
Oh them silly unicorns.
There were green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Noah cried, "Close the door 'cause the rain is pourin'--
And we just can't wait for no unicorns."
The ark started movin', and it drifted with the tide,
And the unicorns looked up from the rock and they cried.
And the water come up and sort of floated them away--
That's why you've never seen a unicorn to this very day.
You'll see green alligators and long-neck geese.
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
You're never gonna see no unicorn
The title track from that album was the only chart hit for the group here in the U.S. (possibly abroad too, though I can't corroborate that). It was penned by the famous comedic poet, Mr. Shel Silverstein. Bear with me, I'm going to tie the perfect storm up in a nice little bow now.
If you are unfamiliar with the lyrics, they happen to be the story of the unicorn's extinction. See, they missed out on Noah's ark ride because they were too busy playing in the rain. Aaaand there's our tie in. It's been raining quite a lot lately, and we have flood warnings and all out here by the Illinois River. Bam!
Anyway, to honor both National Poetry Month and National 8-Track Day, I present to you the lyrics of that classic Irish Rovers tune, "The Unicorn."
THE UNICORN
by Shel Silverstein
A long time ago, when the earth was green
There was more kinds of animals than you've ever seen,
They'd run around free while the earth was bein' born,
And the loveliest of all was the unicorn.
There were green alligators and long-neck geese.
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
The loveliest of all was the unicorn.
Now God seen some sinnin', and it gave him pain.
He said, "Stand back, I'm goin' to make it rain."
He said, "Hey Brother Noah, I'll tell ya what ta do.
Build me a floatin' zoo."
"And take some of them green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
Don't you forget my unicorn."
Now Noah was there, he answered the call
And finished up making the ark just as the rain started to fall.
He marched in the animals two by two,
And he called out as they went through,
"Hey Lord, I got your green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants -- but Lord, I'm so forlorn
I just don't see no unicorn."
Ol' Noah looked out through the drivin' rain
Them unicorns were hidin', playin' silly games.
They were kickin' and splashin' as the rain was pourin'.
Oh them silly unicorns.
There were green alligators and long-neck geese,
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Noah cried, "Close the door 'cause the rain is pourin'--
And we just can't wait for no unicorns."
The ark started movin', and it drifted with the tide,
And the unicorns looked up from the rock and they cried.
And the water come up and sort of floated them away--
That's why you've never seen a unicorn to this very day.
You'll see green alligators and long-neck geese.
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees.
Some catsandratsandelephants, but sure as you're born
You're never gonna see no unicorn
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...
After years of ignoring my MySpace page, I have finally deleted my account. Before doing so, I was sure to download all my blog entries from there. I am currently in the process of transferring those to this blog. They date back to 2007, and there is some very interesting stuff in them. I read through several today as I converted them to this page.
You might also have noticed some rebranding going on. Say farewell to the old McGraw Media Matters (M3) blog. I have noticed that a lot of the stuff I've been posting and basically all of the old MySpace stuff is highly personal, introspective or speculative. Seems like this blog was beginning to shift into more than I had originally bargained for, so I thought it best to simply rebrand it as sort of a catch-all blog instead of a narrowly targeted one. Here you can really get to know me now, more than just professionally.
I hope you enjoy the changes. I am excited to roll out this new image and continue in the new direction. Thanks as always for your readership. Now do me a solid and subscribe please?
You might also have noticed some rebranding going on. Say farewell to the old McGraw Media Matters (M3) blog. I have noticed that a lot of the stuff I've been posting and basically all of the old MySpace stuff is highly personal, introspective or speculative. Seems like this blog was beginning to shift into more than I had originally bargained for, so I thought it best to simply rebrand it as sort of a catch-all blog instead of a narrowly targeted one. Here you can really get to know me now, more than just professionally.
I hope you enjoy the changes. I am excited to roll out this new image and continue in the new direction. Thanks as always for your readership. Now do me a solid and subscribe please?
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