Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Forget it... too much going on and I have been out of the loop for too long.

I'll try to put the pieces into place in time.

BTW: 7,000+ visits and counting!



At 8:22 PM, Blogger lunarpuff said...

I'm feeling a bit lost myself sinner.

But congrats to you and your site!

At 8:34 PM, Blogger OregonMuse said...

Not much going on at Deb's. Maybe she went to bed early.

At 8:46 PM, Blogger Sulla said...

I'm torn. it's Frischmas Eve, and no poetry slam.

I've not had much time because of work, but I've been hacking away at an entry.

Whoever posted that clip from The Raven (edgar allen poe) did me no favors. (grumble)

At 8:58 PM, Blogger BrendaK said...

sulla -

What is hilarious is that she didn't know where it came from.

I think her parents raised her in a box, with only a single lonely copy of Marx to keep her company.

At 9:01 PM, Blogger BrendaK said...

Karl Marx, that is. Not Groucho.

Do you think she's ever even heard of Groucho Marx? Her attempts at humor indicate - Sadly, No!

At 9:01 PM, Blogger joeschmo1of3 said...

Just more dead white males we shouldn't be reading anymore. Guh, can't we read them because they're good?

At 9:02 PM, Blogger joeschmo1of3 said...


Har har! I love referential humor!

At 9:02 PM, Blogger Sulla said...


Heh. Indeed.

Oops! Sorry, Mr. Instapundit Sir!

Heh.™ Indeed.®

At 9:06 PM, Blogger joeschmo1of3 said...


Very nice!

Indeed®. Heh™.

And don't forget: Read the whole thing™.

At 9:17 PM, Blogger Sulla said...

Here's the start of one. Based on (grumble) The Raven (sorry for spacing issues - this place ain't wide enough:)

Once upon a browser dreary, while I burrowed, blitzed and bleary
Into many a faint and furious posting from some ill-begotten bore,
Suddenly there came an inkling, and I found my eyebrows wrinkling,
Like some Yorkie, softly tinkling on a cold, unpapered floor.
I clicked on a destination I had ne'er been to before;
Right-wing websites need me more.

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in my quest for tenure,
That had launched my trip to Ragnarok in nineteen ninety-four.
I've compiled a list of people - some are villains, some just sheeple -
Who derailed my lifetime gravy train; and that is why I'm poor.
I should be an honored scholar at that school in Eugene, OR.
But I don't teach there no more.

After seven years of drudging I broke camp and started trudging
To a governmental posting in the Beltway corridor
In my quest for veneration I gave cash from my foundation
To whoever kissed my butt the most for funding their new score
"It's for science!" they would cry as they would pucker up once more
Here's your check, chump; there's the door.

At 9:18 PM, Blogger BrendaK said...

Joe -

I believe that should have been:

Read the whole thingĀ©.

Because he owns that now.

At 9:19 PM, Blogger Sulla said...



At 9:20 PM, Blogger Sulla said...

I'm torn. it's Frischmas Eve, and no poetry slam.

I've not had much time because of work, but I've been hacking away at an entry.

Whoever posted that clip from The Raven (edgar allen poe) did me no favors. (grumble)

At 9:22 PM, Blogger BrendaK said...

Sulla -

Bravo! Bravissimo!

Like some Yorkie, softly tinkling on a cold, unpapered floor.


At 9:22 PM, Blogger joeschmo1of3 said...

Okay, okay: Read the whole thing©, as in Sulla's first three stanza of a burgeoning masterpiece.

At 9:24 PM, Blogger joeschmo1of3 said...

Man Sulla!

I was going to the Raven, but, like, tomorrow. Shoot.

[start riffling through e.e. cummings]

At 9:35 PM, Blogger Sulla said...


hey, go for it. I don't have a monopoly on Poe, or The Raven.

Variations on a theme.

At 9:41 PM, Blogger Sulla said...

here's a couple more stanzas. My problem is I don't have the "thematic thread" yet, so these are all just isolated bits, not some yummy fully-baked mince pie of poetry.


I enjoyed my newest pickins; I regaled them like the dickens.
All my hit-and-run attacks would bring those pissants to my door!
South(west)paw would be my portal; the name Frisch would be immortal!
"Here I come, Messhyoor Jon Stewart and you beaux Colbert Report!
My ginormous funny brain is what your fans are screaming for!"
They ignored me. Now I'm sore.

I stepped up my hits on Frogger, but some site went up on Blogger
where they follow me from site to site and document my strife;
Then some full-tilt bull-goose looney raised another, twice as moony
where some freelance paralegals dug up bad bits from my life.
They uncovered my arraignment like some cyber Barney Fife.
Go to Walmart; buy a life!

At 9:45 PM, Blogger BrendaK said...

Sulla & Joe -

I envy y'all your talent.

At 10:26 PM, Blogger joeschmo1of3 said...

How about some serious Walt Whitman:

When I read the burned psychologist,
When the rants, the gestures, were placed in windows before me,
When I was shown the words of hate, of bile, to parse, and absorb them,
When I clicking read the psychologist as she railed with much anger in teh crazy shack,
How quick and mad disgusted I became full of gorge,
Still rising and crying out I then searched for myself,
In the beautiful sane wide world, calm and peace to see,
Behind the red dark veil of my lids.

I promise to do something funny next time.

At 10:41 PM, Blogger Sulla said...

Excellent, and disturbing, Joe.

I've never been a good serious poet, and envy those who are. You've got a gift.

I thought a Sestina would be fun to try, but my courage fails me at the moment. Go for the easy parody, that's my motto.

Then there's the Iliad, which would be widly appropriate here.

Goddess, sing the rage of Deborah daughter of Eugene, that brought countless ills upon the Academians...

At 10:52 PM, Blogger joeschmo1of3 said...

Ooh, dibs on Dylan Thomas' "Do Not go Gentle into that Good Night." Someone else can Robert Blake's "Tiger, Tiger burning bright."

At 11:22 PM, Blogger Denny Crane said...


I want you.

I'll explain in the morning. Right now, all this Frisch talk is putting me to sleep.


Denny Crane!

At 12:24 AM, Blogger Hosedragger said...

I THINK that I shall never see
A Lib as freaky as Debbie.

A Lib whose filthy mouth is prest
with railing aganst Jeff and the rest;

A Lib that looks at blogs all day, 5
And spews her lefty hate her way;

A Lib that may in summer swear
At kids, friends, foes and not play fair;

Upon whose wrists handcuffs were lain;
Who intimately lives with pain.

Poems are made by fools like she,
But only God can Teh Crazee.

At 1:28 AM, Blogger joeschmo1of3 said...

Cool, Joyce Kilmer! How about some Dylan Thomas:

Warriors of word do yawp at battle fall;

Though wise thoughts pierce their heart of what felt right,
Because their pulse beat on word warriors all
Do not stop, rage on, on to that good fight.

Good thoughts, and arch wry wit, seeking do bite
The heel and then gain Colbert's cattle call,
Yet lacking these, fly from the shining light.

Wild thoughts and poor spelling are but mind's blight,
Old mates, they do not impress, you, with gall,
Do not stop, rage on, on to that good fight.

Grave thoughts on death, or writing books that might,
Put path to career, back to hallowed hall,
Yet lacking these, fly from the shining light.

And you, cray zee lay dee, the state did cite
Crimes against them, because you, not at all,
Did not stop, raged on, on to that good fight.
And lacking these, flew from the shining light.


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