Monthly Archives: June 2017

I present an A-to-Z list (excluding X) of five-letter words that end in T.  To qualify for my prestigious list, no word may duplicate the last three letters of any other word in the list.  As a challenge to your mental dexterity, I leave the five-letter B, I, N and W words for you, devoted reader.

The first to post their answers will be this week’s Winner of the Internet.  Have fun!

B • • • T
I • • • T
N • • • T
W • • • T

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Thoughts @ Large: 46

• Why are short forks called salad forks?  Why are salad forks shorter than other forks?  Are lightweight forks somehow appropriate for lightweight food?  Why would one need a fork that is shorter than regular forks?  The better to jab thin people with?

• One full slot in every American’s silverware drawer is wastefully devoted to salad forks.  This takes up precious space that could otherwise be used for chopsticks, poultry lacers, rubber pot-scrapers and rectal thermometers.

• You know, I was just thinking the other day.

• I may turn out to be a very bad grandfather.  I can’t seem to watch children at play without imagining all the ways they could hurt themselves, which naturally makes me want to constrain their play.  Good thing I was not my own grandfather — otherwise I would not have gained such an appreciation for dangerous things.

• Perhaps I should take heart that, on Antiques Roadshow 3000, my works of art will be best-known for having been made during the Trump Dynasty.

• Every sound-effects team in Hollywood should be fired.  One film after another persists in accompanying all blows with thundering deep bass tones and all fast-moving objects with cavernous whooshes.  Such sonic clichés should be banned, never rewarded.

• One of my favorite expressions is, “Excuse my French.”  (It so often needs excusing.)

• I am really getting tired of getting directed to some Pinterest site whenever I click a link.  I will never sign up for Pinterest, never, ever.  If the internet is so smart, they would have figured this out by now and they would stop sending me to Pinterest.  Goober Pyle and me, we’re just going to sit here and play checkers in the repair shop until the internet fixes this.

• I call them thunderstorms but many others refer to them as electrical storms.  I would be interested to know whether there is a cultural or geographic locus for the designation electrical storm.  There’s something about that name that pays tribute to the primitive forces of nature.  The more documentary thunderstorm falls short on that count.

• I am not a fascinating person.  As evidence of this, my conversations with others always  seem to last much longer when I engage them in discussion about themselves.

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Never Had a Dog

Never had a dog
(never wanted a dog
as you will see)
but that is not to say
that dogs did not have me.

A very early memory
I must have been three or four
I was laying flat on the sidewalk
in front of Susie McKee’s place
my shoulders pinned down
by the huge dog
its big black muzzle
ready to bite my face

The older kids, all standing around
as I screamed, terrified…
why weren’t they rescuing me?

I obviously survived
as this memory attests.
So whoever you were
and whoever your big dog was
you’re all forgiven
none of you knew what to do
and your big dog too

A few years later, I met Barney
the dark and stormy
cocker spaniel
He lived across the street
and barked at me relentlessly
and chased my bicycle
and every other kid’s bicycle
and all the passing cars
until one day he was run over
and I was relieved.

Of course I grew up
and coped with dogs
and avoided dogs
and even petted dogs
and spoke to them
so patronizingly.

I pretended to like them
always trying to figure out
how to forge some uneasy truce
before there could be
any misunderstandings
because you never know.

For every nine houses on the block
four have dogs and five do not
and those who do
are likely to have two.
Furious furry forces of nature
waiting for you
when you knock at the door
programmed to pounce
ready to chew.

Sure, the pup who claws
its way to your heart
is just a cute ball
of muscular fuzz
with four paws
and two jaws
but he doesn’t bite
he never does
says the owner
holding the leash tight.

Here I must pen
the inevitable end
of this poetical blog:
you and I may be friends
but my hand does not extend
to your obnoxious dog.

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