Friday, August 30, 2019

King Henry V and Traditional Norman Entertainments - Rhyming Doggerel

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

King Henry V and Traditional Norman Entertainments

Henry V II.i.47ff

For supper Lord Cambridge was given a chop
The very meal Lord Masham was dreading
Northumberland was carved in that very same shop -
What Norman doesn’t enjoy a lovely beheading?

Thursday, August 29, 2019

The Potential for a Potentially Potential Hurricane Season - weekly column

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Potential for a Potentially Potential Hurricane Season

I love Nature partly because she is not man, but a retreat from him.
None of his institutions control or pervade her.

-attributed to Henry David Thoreau

The buzzy words this hurricane season are the noun “potential” and its adverb “potentially.” In Latin “potential” means powerful; in modern English the meaning has drifted into a consideration of the possible. In Latin a potential storm is one that is powerful; in English a potential storm is not a storm at all but rather a weather disturbance that might become a storm.

We haven’t yet read a sentence such as “The potential hurricane is potentially heading for a potential landing on Florida’s cost,” but we might before the season is over. “Potential” is The Word; you are not going to see or hear the weather news this year without the speaker casting it about like pixie dust: “Potentially you are not going to potentially see or hear the potential weather news without the potential speaker casting it potentially about like potential pixie dust.”

Weather Underground (I don’t think they are really underground) came up with a fresh storm metaphor this year, “muscling,” as in “Hurricane Dorian is muscling its way to Florida.” That’s pretty good the first few hundred times you hear it.

Otherwise, the weather news is clotted with the same old metaphors about storms making landfall, brewing in the Gulf, building up steam, storming ashore (because, after all, storming is what storms do), lashing, pounding, barreling, reducing to rubble, battening down the hatches, wreaking havoc, leaving swaths of destruction, trees snapping like matchsticks, cars tossing around like toys, cities dodging the bullet, a street looking like a war zone, we’re not out of the woods, the eerie calm before the storm, the eerie calm in the eye of the storm, the eerie calm after the storm, perfect storm, storm of the century, in the crosshairs, fish storm, decimated, ground zero, and on and on.

Mother Nature’s Wrath and Mother Nature’s Fury used to be part of the babble, but no more. We have progressed from Greco-Roman mythology about nature goddess to Renaissance obsessions with witches. Someone must be blamed for hurricanes, and now the fault is beastly climate-change deniers instead of goddesses.

Climate-change deniers? Really?

As Henry David Thoreau said, “The wind that blows is all that anyone knows.”

-30-

The Veterans' Administration Thanks You for Your Service (Now Shut Up and Go Away)

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

The Veterans’ Administration Thanks You for Your Service

(Now shut up and go away.)

Rarely do they murder us
Mostly they just ignore us

Wednesday, August 28, 2019

Lady Macbeth's Advice to Young Men Contemplating the Holy and Honourable Estate of Matrimony - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Lady Macbeth’s Advice to Young Men Contemplating
the Holy and Honourable Estate of Matrimony

Okay, yeah, sure, a little domestic strife
A resume written with a big ol’ knife
But if you want to get ahead in life
Even a king should listen to his wife

Tuesday, August 27, 2019

Luna-Dog and I - doggerel indeed!

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Luna-Dog and I

She gently takes the proffered nibbly bite
Between her toothful jaws, my little ally
This is our bedtime custom every night
That’s why my dog is fat - and so am I!

Monday, August 26, 2019

"Straight Pride Event..." - couplet

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

“Straight Pride Event Draws LGBTQ+ Protests”

-headline

What’s important?



Young lovers soaring through a Neverland night
Savouring each other in sweet delight

Sunday, August 25, 2019

"The Queen Stands at Your Right Hand, Arrayed in Gold" - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

"The Queen Stands at Your Right Hand, Arrayed in Gold"

-Psalm 45

The Queen stands at His right hand, arrayed in gold
The Queen is not ornamented in gold
The Queen is not decorated in gold
The Queen is not merely costumed in gold

The Queen is royally arrayed in gold
For She alone is the Theotokos
In Whose honor the sun is given to shine
Through Her, the Passage between worlds

The Light of the world is the Saviour indeed:
The Queen stands at His right hand, arrayed in gold

Cf:
Psalm 45
St. Gregory Palamas, Homily 38

Talibanning Ourselves - Weekly Column

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

Talibanning Ourselves

Our North American Taliban are again attempting to destroy history.

Last week Mexico City’s Angel of Independence (https://theculturetrip.com/north-america/mexico/articles/9-fascinating-facts-about-mexico-citys-angel-of-independence/) was grotesquely vandalized by the usual protestors with the usual spray paint in scrawling the usual obscenities. The pretext for the desecration was gender-based violence. The irony of a sacred cultural marker celebrating freedom for all being defaced by a mob is an irony.

The peace-loving protestors also assaulted television reporters covering the demonstration, beating one unconscious. While protesting violence.

The monument dates from 1910 and celebrates Mexico’s independence from Spain. From a large base a pillar rises to a statue of Father Hidalgo, whose Grito de Dolores (http://www.sonsofdewittcolony.org/adp/archives/documents/hidalgo.html) on 16 September 1810 commenced the revolution against colonial rule. At the very top of the monument is a winged Nike (the Greek goddess of victory, and if she were real she’d probably fry everyone for mispronouncing her name) holding a crown of laurels, symbolizing martyrdom and victory.

One of the images is of an Irishman, William Lambert, Guiellen de Lampart, who is said to be one of the several inspirations for Zorro because of his participation in the early struggles for independence. The Spanish government had some hard feelings about this and executed him by burning in 1659.

Within the base are buried heroes of the revolution, including Father Hidalgo, Guadalupe Victoria (the first president), Leona Vicario, and her husband Andrés.

The Angel of Independence is a visual history lesson featuring images of heroes of Mexico, a child leading a lion, and, among many other statues and devices, four women at the four points of the base, symbolizing Law, War, Justice, and Peace. The Angel is a big deal (as in BIG DEAL), and before her and around her families take quinceañera pictures, footer fans celebrate victories, protestors protest, speeches are made, and independence is celebrated.

The Angel of Independence represents the noblest aspirations of humanity, and anyone who would deface her represents nothing more than a temper tantrum.

The destruction of culture, the suppression of free speech, and the attempted erasure of history are features of Nazism, Communism, and Taliban-ism, and are unworthy of anyone with any claim to love the Platonic ideals of the good, the true, and the beautiful.

If we disagree with a writer’s book we write our own book countering it.

If we dislike a statue’s implied message we place a different statue with a different message in the same park.

If we disagree with a speaker we listen and then against his thesis propose a reasoned antithesis.

If we don’t like a newspaper’s views we subscribe to another newspaper.

If a television program promotes content we want to spare our children then we switch channels or, better, turn the darned thing off and turn the kidlets to the bookshelves in the living room.

The recent ugly rise of burning, banning, censoring, and silencing of art, music, literature, and political discourse, always in the name of a purported higher cause, is not what any nation’s constitution is about.

-30-




Saturday, August 24, 2019

Ransomware Never Crippled Who We Were - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com


“Ransomware Cripples Cities”

-a common headline

Ransomware never crippled an Olivetti
But a broken spring did so once or twice
So I carried the old machine to old Bill
Whose magic always made it fly again

Ransomware never crippled a cardboard file
Nor yet the flyleaf of the book in which
She wrote the kindest sentiment of love
In the sweet optimism of our youth

Ransomware never crippled who we were -
I did that to us when I walked away

Friday, August 23, 2019

Rib Cage in the Road - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Rib Cage in the Road

A fuzzy structure there beside the road -
It proves to be the rib cage of the dead
Which nights before enclosed the heart and lungs
Of a creature on its errands dutiful

Gone now to buzzards and bacterial decay
On this, neither the Road to Damascus
Nor to Emmaus, and the Good Samaritan
Could have done nothing had he come along

It sinks into the dust, and so will we
Beneath the tire-treads of mortality

Thursday, August 22, 2019

"I Am the Chosen One" - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

“I Am the Chosen One”

-The King of Israel,
the Second Coming of God,
and Member of the Order of the Purple Heart
21 August 2019

No
No, no
Oh, no
Now please
Just go

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Inbox / Sent / Spam / Trash - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Inbox / Sent / Spam / Trash

Inbox:
Messages and pictures suddenly appear

Sent:
And others then are made to go away

Spam:
And here - oh, my! - delete (goodbye, my dear!)

Trash:
And is all this how we should pass each day?

Tuesday, August 20, 2019

I Do Not Want to be One of The People - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

I Do Not Want to be One of The People

“He’s an individual, and they’re always trying.”

-The Colonel in Many Happy Returns, episode 7 of The Prisoner

I do not want to be one of The People
With nose rings and tattoos, tee-shirts, knee pants
Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck on the radio
Foul fungal feet and toes shoved into flops

I do not want to be one of The People
A howling face in an anonymous mob
With a Kalashnikov and ammo drum
A made-in-China heel-spurred baseball ap

I do not want to be one of The People
And so…

Monday, August 19, 2019

New Hampshire's Brigadoon Diner - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

New Hampshire’s Brigadoon Diner

It appears, not every century, no
But every four years in the season of snow
When presidential candidates are hard-pressed
For votes, and in new lumberjack shirts are dressed

The Brigadoon Diner appears in the mist
Whenever there are babies to be kissed
By politicians flown first-class from the city
In designer boots that have never been s**tty

Pancakes and coffee, and an incessant buzz
In a down-home America that never was

Sunday, August 18, 2019

Portland, You Don't Shriek for Me - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Portland, You Don’t Shriek for Me

Who can tell the Faw from the Aunty Faw?
CarryBOO herds in ballcaps, tees, and tats
Outlaw-scary-masks and gas-station shades
Parachute-pantsies and designer sneaks

     You write no books, you sing no songs – you shriek
     You do no work, you make no art         – you shriek
     You do no good, you help no one          - you shriek
     You make no thoughtful arguments      – you shriek

And all of you dressed like corpses-in-law:
Who can tell the Faw from the Aunty Faw?

Saturday, August 17, 2019

Death Beyond an Emergency-Room Curtain - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Beyond an Emergency-Room Curtain

A plastic fabric forest of oak leaves
Some blue, some white, almost abstract in shape
An anonymous professional hand
Through unheard signals draws them open, then closed

My friend will be okay: “just a precaution
Overnight for observation, then home
A little heartbeat irregularity
We’ll get you to a room, something to eat…”

Beyond the fabric forest of oak leaves
Other voices, always soft, always kind
Softer and kinder still: “if you will sign this
End-of-life care, DNR, who can we call…”

A moment alone: “Oh, Momma…Momma…”
Whispered out into Creation

                                                           and heard

Friday, August 16, 2019

Retirement on the Time-Payment Plan - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Retirement on the Time-Payment Plan

German refugee husband: “Liebchen – sweetness – what watch?”

German refugee wife: “Ten watch.”

Husband: “Such watch?”

Carl the Bartender: “You will get along beautifully in America.”

-Casablanca

I check the time on my retirement watch
(A Seiko; they did not think much of me)
And consider that there is no time at all
Unless Creation is some sort of clock

Childhood is watchless, timeless, careless, free
But adults must be catalogued and timed:
Bulova, Timex, Rolex, and Longines
And even a railway Regulator

I check the time on my retirement watch -
And hustle off to my chapter two job

Thursday, August 15, 2019

Coach Sheldon Cooper Gives the Chess Team a Pep Talk - weekly column 8.15.19

Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

Coach Sheldon Cooper Gives the Chess Team a Pep Talk

“Now guys, today’s the big game against M.I.T., and before we thunder out to the table I want to review with you the new rules of the league.

“Before the match I don’t want to see any of you taking a knee when the band plays the theme to Big Bang Theory. We stand in unity, okay? When that song is played we are ONE team, the mighty, mighty SACRIFICIAL PAWNS! We are no longer divided by our Star Trek backgrounds or our Star Wars backgrounds. When our sacred Big Bang Theory song is played WE BEAM DOWN AS ONE and we STAND AWKWARDLY AS ONE like the all-American nerds we are. No one is either Captain Kirk or Han Solo; we are all SACRIFICIAL PAWNS! OOOOH-RAH! Gimme an OOOH-RAH!”

“…um…oooh-rah?”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“(squeak) ooh-rah?”

“Okay, fine, fine. Now, then, if the other team offers a prayer, just go with that, okay?”

“But Coach,” said Trevor, “we’re chess players. We see existential reality only in the Spanish Opening, El Ruy Lopez, and nothing more.”

“Au contraire,” replied Neville. “Who can consider the symmetry, the logic, the elegance of the Giuoco Piano and fail to understand that only the Creator of the universe could make that opening?”

“But then how do you explain the Pirc Defense, which is obviously from the Dark Side?” asked Ponsonby.

“Focus, men. If we get into all that theology stuff someone will think we’re…ugh…liberal arts students.”

Team: “EEEEyewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!”

“Now, when you make a capture, remember that under the new rules we’ll be penalized two pawns and a cheerleader if you spike a rook, knight, or bishop.”

“Okay, coach, but can we spike the punch, haha?”

“You’re getting a penalty for that bad pun, Vladislav. One more thing, men. You’re going to have to clean up your language around the cheerleaders.”

“Awwwwwwwwww, mannnnnnnnnnn,” whined Clive. “Whenever I’m around Chloe Zoe, well, she just makes my Rubik’s Cube whirrrr out of sync. She makes me want to whisper a Shakespearean sonnet to her.”

“Now THAT is just the kind of language we just DON’T need, not even in our manly-man locker room. Shakespeare! If I had said “Shakespeare” or “Keats” my old physics instructor would have washed my mouth out with H202.”

“Yessss, Coach.”

“Now then,” concluded Coach Sheldon, holding up a regulation chess clock: “Out there on the field of mental battle you’ll have only two friends, your superior left-brained intellect (dramatic pause) and this. Now let’s go out there and kick some serious quantum entanglement and non-locality! Yeahhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

-30-

Good Morning! Crash! - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com

Good Morning! Crash!

Chorus:

“Good morning! Good morning! Good morning! Good
Morning! GOOD MORNING! Good morning! Good mor
Ning! Good morning! Good morning! Good morning!!!!!!!!!”

Narrator:

CRASH! (‘cause someone dropped a good-morning dish)

Narrator continues:

At the Waffle House on the interstate
Where dawn and comforting cholesterol
A plastic menu card and that first cuppa
Promise us adventures on this new day

And strengthen the night-shift cops, a welding crew
A day-shift-nurse or two, and me and you!

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

So my Lawnmower Repair Guy was Wounded in a Shootout...

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com


So my Lawnmower Repair Guy was Wounded in a Shoot-Out…

The wind that blows
Is all that anyone knows

-Henry David Thoreau

And is the man all right? Nobody knows

And my lawnmower is hidden behind a fence
A chain-link fence, among mowers in rows
The owner lost a gunfight; he was taken hence
And what about the mowers? Nobody knows

And is the man all right? Nobody knows

UPS has left notes; the door is locked
There is no sound of man or machine
No one has answered when customers knocked
Only the guard-dogs (yeah, they’re really mean)

And is the man all right? Nobody knows

Sergeant Schultz at the cop-shop - she knows nothink
She’s busy with her personal smartphone
Her eyes are fixed; they do not move or blink
And I am all alone in The Twilight Zone

And is the man all right? Nobody knows

So what really happened? Nobody knows

And is the man all right? Nobody knows

So who can I contact? Nobody knows

And is the man all right? Nobody knows


Only the wind…