4.2.2025 – no sympathy

no sympathy
historically bad
favourability

In her Guardian Opinion piece, Is Usha Vance starting to feel a little sorry for herself?, Arwa Mahdawi writes:

They won all right, but pretty much everyone in the US now thinks JD is a loser. He has historically bad favourability ratings and there are memes of him everywhere. I have absolutely no sympathy for Usha – who is far from a victim – but I have to wonder if she is starting to feel a little sorry for herself.

I just love the way historically bad favourability just rolls off the tongue.

I mean who can live with that?

Maybe the Vance’s see that as the challange.

Back in the day when I taught 4th grade Sunday School (think that one through why don’t you) I had a kid was so ‘just not going to take part and I don’t care’ that I told I was going to flunk him.

He was going to flunk 4th grade Sunday School.

You can’t, he said,

I can, I said.

You won’t, he said.

I will , I said.

As a matter of fact, I said, you will be the first kid in history to FLUNK 4th GRADE SUNDAY SCHOOL!

He looked at me for a second.

The gets this look in his eye.

“I’ll be … the first?”, he said.

And breaks into the biggest gleam.

3.31.2025 – top security aides

top security aides
amateurs they are – new week
new dimwit roundup …

I really really want to get away from comments about the current administration – both from a desire to look away and from a growing feeling of need to be self-preservational, nevertheless, some of the best word play in today’s media concerns the new administration and I started this blog to recognized unique use of words … so there you are.

In todays Conversation, a back-and-forth commentary on the past week between Gail Collins and Bret Stephens in the New York Times, they write:

Bret: If President Trump were, well, someone else entirely, he’d be the one buying Jeff a drink for keeping the nation’s military secrets to himself for as long as they needed keeping — and then exposing Trump’s top national security aides as the amateurs they are.

Gail: A new week, a new dimwit roundup …

Mr. Stephens is a conservative, it should be noted.

Sorry to say we are talking about the security team that manages the safety of the United States and not, shall we say, the Chicago Cubs of yor, the lovable losers of 108 seasons between the World Series victories of 1908 and 2016.

Baseball teams that raised losing and snatching defeat from the jaws of victory to an art form.

A new week, a new dimwit roundup …

It would be funny.

It would be comical.

If it wasn’t true.

3.30.2025 – be called on to give

be called on to give
last full measure could never ..
understand, define

Adapted from this passage:

The road ahead was long, and it was to lead them to worse than they had had: to Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, to Gettysburg and the Wilderness, to the sickening meadows at Cold Harbor and the squalid trenches around Petersburg; to the ultimate misery and bleak wisdom that lie at the end of all the roads of war.

They were on their own now, fighting for something they had not been asked about; they had made the victory through which the war had been given its lasting meaning, and now they would have to go on to the end of it, marching doggedly to the dark fields where they would be called on to give the last full measure of a devotion which they themselves could never understand or define.

From Mr. Lincoln’s Army: Army of the Potomac Trilogy, Volume One by Bruce Catton (Doubleday & Company, inc., Garden City, NY, 1951).

I find it hard to accept that the last full measure fought for during the American Civil War was going to end up where we are today.

Maybe our turn is coming to sum a last full measure of devotion to something we cannot understand or define.

3.29.2025 – ruined game – they think guys …

ruined game – they think guys …
don’t know [expletive] about
[expletive] … well

“The guys, who don’t know (expletive) about (expletive), according to a lot of basketball people, they finish Sunday and then they have Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and they play Saturday,” Auriemma said. “But there’s a lot of people in the women’s basketball community that think they’re smarter than that. So whoever came up with this super regional stuff — and I know who they are — ruined the game.

Geno Auriemma, The University of Connecticut Women’s Basketball Coach commenting on the NCAA Women’s Tournament super regional schedule in a press conference on March 28, 2025.

In commenting on word play, I have not thought about how EXPLETIVE should figure into the count when composing a haiku.

I know I know I know, Haiku is more about what American kids learned in 3rd grade, a grouping of 5 -7 – 5 syllables …

But you can read my What Is … section for a discussion on that and what I do.

Bottom line, my blog, my rules so end around back to using expletive …

Does it count for 4 or for the 1 or maybe 2 or even 3 syllables of the expletive that was deleted.

As I mentally try to fill in the blanks, I am sure that I am coming with more and more coarse terms than Coach Auriemma used.

And counted expletive for 4.

As for use of language, Mr. Bill Veeck would say, if you want to limit your vocabulary to about seven words, use profanity.

However as Mr. Mark Twain said, there are so damn few words everyone understands.

Like the cook said, when Admiral Halsey called him out to thank him a great dinner, “Ah horseshit Admiral, You don’t have to say that”

3.28.2025 – like a tired man —

like a tired man —
wind tapped boldly answered —
entered then within

Adapted from The Wind — tapped like a tired Man by Emily Dickinson

The Wind — tapped like a tired Man —
And like a Host — ”Come in”
I boldly answered — entered then
My Residence within

A Rapid — footless Guest —
To offer whom a Chair
Were as impossible as hand
A Sofa to the Air —

No Bone had He to bind Him —
His Speech was like the Push
Of numerous Humming Birds at once
From a superior Bush —

His Countenance — a Billow —
His Fingers, as He passed
Let go a music — as of tunes
Blown tremulous in Glass —

He visited — still flitting —
Then like a timid Man
Again, He tapped — ’twas flurriedly —
And I became alone —

I am so tired.

A sofa to the air is just about right.

I have no bones to bind me and I let go music as blown in tremulous in glass.

Along in again all inside my head.