Category: This; And also that

If I end up founding my own university (“Cecil Vortex University” — or perhaps “the University of Cecil Vortex”) the CVU/UCV hymnal will include the following words:

• “roar”
• “kindled”
• “e’er”
• “hail”
• “gibbous”

“I’m not laughing at you.
I’m laughing with me.”

The downright deviant number of flip-flops
we have in my house. We have, like,
fourteen pairs of flip-flops in my house.
And I don’t wear flip-flops. They flip too much.
So that leaves three people in my house with fourteen pairs of flip-flops.
Why? Why? Why?!
You can’t wear more than one pair at a time.
Deviant.

In seventh grade I read Cat’s Cradle, my first Vonnegut book. I remember standing in front of the class and giving a book report. I played a newsreporter delivering the play-by-play from the book’s closing scene (“a tragedy today, here in the beautiful island of San Lorenzo…”). There was an ad in the back of all those Vonnegut paperbacks that said, essentially, bet you can’t eat just one, and they were right.
No books, aside from Steve Martin’s Cruel Shoes, had a bigger impact on my brain in middle school and high school. I’d sometimes hear folks disparage Vonnegut’s novels as lightweight, comparing them unfavorably to, say, Catch-22. That always seemed off-point to me. These weren’t book you were supposed to roll around in for a month. They were a different kind of beast. Thin, portable devices that delivered high voltage electric telegrams direct to the nervous system. And if you read them in a certain frame of mind (and most especially at a certain age), they really did change the way you saw the world.
If you’re planning on reading a Vonnegut book today, may I recommend Sirens of Titan? Or perhaps God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater? Or mebbe Slapstick? Or what about Bluebeard? Oh, who are we kidding? The book to read today is Mother Night.
Mother Night, a book so gigantically good that when I finished it back in freshman year of college, I hopped up, flung it down the hallway, and scrambled out to the street to recover with some New York City air. And see, if it had been Catch-22, I might have really hurt somebody.

Kurt Vonnegut 1922-2007

Dyngus Day is finally here! And you know what that means — beware kids sporting pussywillows and water guns. Especially if you live in Buffalo or South Bend.
In an almost entirely unrelated development, So-Called Bill was angered by advertising over the weekend, which reminded me of this marketing copy I found on the box for Rob Reiner’s Rumor Has It, starring Kevin Costner, Shirley Maclaine, and Jennifer Anniston:

At last there’s a movie for everyone who’s ever looked at the eccentrics and oddballs in his or her family and wondered who are these people?

Like until now, we were left to ask, “Doesn’t anyone else have a crazy uncle who thinks the Theodore Roosevelt part of Mount Rushmore is making googly eyes at his wife? Am I the only person in this whole country with a quirky family? And if I’m not alone, why doesn’t anyone make a movie that finds comedy in those sorts of situations?”
And then — at last! — along comes this groundbreaking film. And now you’re not alone anymore. At last! At last! Grrrr.
Speaking of bad things, here’s what may be the worst pick-up line ever: “Either this place smells like really good Indian food, or you smell like really good Indian food.”

I took my kids to SFMOMA today for the first time, and they each had a line I feel compelled to share.
Sam (6), on Lesende by Gerhard Richter: “I’m just blinking ‘cuz I’m so amazed.”
Susannah (9), on A Leaky Ride for Dr. Leakey: “That’s what my imagination looks like.”

I just learned something so wonderful, I felt compelled to use the world wide web to let people know about it. Were you aware that the Monday after Easter is a Polish holiday called “Dyngus Day”? It’s true! Dyngus Day! Pronouced “Dingus Day!” How cool is that?!
Dyngus Day involves boys and girls splashing and slapping each other with water and pussywillows. Here’s a translation of a fair-warning poem they sing, knocking on doors:

Smigus! Dyngus! All for fun, Dump some water with a smile! If not from a cup, then from a pitcher, Smigus-Dyngus starts at dawn! It’s an old Polish custom, just so you’ll know and not yell, when on the second day of Easter, your jacket’s all soaking wet.

And where, you’re probably wondering, is the Dyngus Day Capital of the USA? Not suprisingly, Polka Music Hall of Fame luminary Lenny Gomulka has an opinion on that:

“I have enjoyed the excitement of Dyngus Day in several cities and towns,” he says, “however, no where is this holiday celebrated unilaterally and dynamically as it is in Buffalo, New York.”

See? I told you humans aren’t all that bad. How can you not love a species like this?

Thought for the day: Trying to write dialogue without first getting a bead on your characters’ motivation is a little like trying to move a car by pulling on its bumper. Oh sure, you can do it. If you’re really strong. At least, some people can do it. But there’s an easier way.

Reflection number 1.
It’s just a matter of time before “Happy Feet: The Musical” hits Broadway. So if, like me, your chest starts to constrict at the thought of 100 people tap dancing their hearts out while wearing penguin suits, just consider this fair warning. The time to implant that cyanide capsule in molar #32 is now.
Reflection number 2.
Although I certainly enjoyed the movie and I laughed and laughed when the birdies bumped into each other and went falling down, I was left with the nagging feeling I’d just seen an exceptionally deviant film. (spoiler alert) The message appeared to be that humanity would stop destroying nature if only animals were more…entertaining. Even weirder than that — it’s not enough that the animals sing really well. They need to dance. So dance my fluffy friends! Dance or die!

(It’s not every day that someone asks you to write a short poem about Carl Sandburg.)
Carl Sandburg
was a dangerous man
always creeping around
on little cat feet infecting
people with
TB.