Archive for the ‘literature’ Category


Three for the show

April 27, 2007
My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
His Most Noble Lord Nicteis the Mad of Goosnargh on the Carpet
Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Three links of interest (with thanks to OBC’s indispensable recaps on Salon Tabletalk):

Do birds fart? The sagacious Laura Erickson again resolves one of the burning questions of the cosmos.

Learn your Peculiar Aristocratic Title. (Mine resides in splendor at the head of this post, along with the link.)

And Chatham, England has decided to pack in the tourists with a Dickens theme park. Having read nearly all of Boz at least once, I’m ready to consume a bit of underdone potato, and have the Spirit of Englands Past waft me across the pond to sample this marvel when the clock strikes one.


So he goes

April 12, 2007

Mark Twain died in November 1910. Kurt Vonnegut Jr. was not born until November of 1922. Probably his temporary absence was a major contributing factor to the planet’s failure to avoid the Great War. The country and the planet can ill afford another twelve year wait before he returns to us. If nothing else, there’s this Iran thing around the corner…

From the Books of Bokonon:


God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, “Sit up!”
“See all I’ve made,” said God, “the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.”
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God.
Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn’t have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn’t even get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait…
To find out for certain what my wampeter was…
And who was in my karass…
And all the good things our karass did for you.


We do, doodley do, doodley do, doodley do,
What we must, muddily must, muddily must, muddily must;
Muddily do, muddily do, muddily do, muddily do,
Until we bust, bodily bust, bodily bust, bodily bust.

Rest in squinty-eyed peace, Kilgore Trout.