Let it steep a while! Edward G. Robinson for Maxwell House coffee

This is one of those great old ads I remember from my childhood. I wasn't old enough to remember Edward G's gangsterish heyday in the '30s and '40s, so by the time this ad came out, he was a retired gentleman with an aristocratic, if Bronx-ish manner of speaking. For some reason the part I remember most is "let it steep a while to develop the full flavor" - not knowing what "steep" meant, of course, and even at that age wondering why he was using INSTANT Maxwell House to "brew" a pot of coffee. Of course, no one makes a pot of coffee out of instant any more, just as no one "percs" their coffee - which is too bad, because the wood-block theme for the Maxwell House coffee percolator was a classic. And it did smell good, though tasting it was another matter. Anyway, I have a poignant memory of Robinson's very last movie role, performed while he was frail and terminally ill with cancer. Soylent Green is one of my favorite dystopian movies, in no small measure because of the rapport between Charlton Heston and Robinson. He was also in a bizarre but moving death scenario where his body was soon to be transformed into FOOD. "Soylent Green is PEOPLE!" Heston cried, almost as memorably as "Get your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape!"

We're all in Crimbo Limbo. . .

 

It's that time of year again - or rather, that weird non-time between Christmas and New Years. Myself, I am glued to my chair, when not eating macadamia nuts and Purdy's chocolates and feeling sick.

It is raining too hard to go outside. It is raining too hard to do anything.

I had never even heard of Crimbo (some sort of weird contraction of Christmas, probably British or maybe even Australian) until a few years ago when I stumbled across it on some site or other. Crimbo is also related to Crimbo pressie, Crimbot, Crimbus, Crimcheck, and no doubt thousands of others, many of them defined below. Some of them are nasty. Looking them up will give you something to do.

TOP DEFINITION

Crimbo Limbo

The period after Christmas Day and before New Year's Eve, mainly spent sitting down and eating leftovers. Many find it extremely dull.

I'm so bored. It feels like crimbo limbo's been going on forever...

ALTERNATE DEFINITION

Crimbo Limbo 

Crimbo Limbo is the time in-between Christmas Day and New Years Day, where you feel fulfilled, eat lots, and give yourself alcohol poisoning.

Ryan: Dude, I haven't done anything productive in three whole days, yet I still feel great!
Lewis: Well, that's Crimbo Limbo for ya!

RELATED TERMS (in alphabetical order)

Crimbo Limbo
crimbo pressie
Crimbo (short for Crimbabwe) 

also known as the Heart of Darkness
crimbot
Crimbus
Crimcheck
Crim Cram
Crimdalf
crim de la crim
crim della crim
Crimder
Crime
crimea
Crime-A-Dozen
Crime against Humanities
Crime against nature
crime-a-lator
Crime-Alert
Crime and Punishment
crimeaversary
Crime Bluff
Crimebo
Crimeboss
crimebridge
crimecation
Crime Community
crimed
Crimedale
Crime Dawg
Crime Deturent
Crimedicts
crime dog
Crimedotte
Crime-dotte County
Crimee
crime essam

It's also a game.

BLOGGER'S UPDATE. Still haven't solved the bizarre problems I am having with Blogger. Some of the features of my blog have been mysteriously disabled (most significantly, the comments section, though posting videos is now quite difficult and doesn't look right). This seemed to happen when I briefly could not go on my Google account, but once that problem was solved, the blog deficiencies remained. My son the techie genius said "Blogger must be broken. Maybe they'll fix it. I'm amazed Google still supports something this old." But hell, I'M old myself - the blog celebrates obsolete technology, among other things, so I don't have any desire to render it slickly updated. No bells and whistles, which I loathe on any website.  So I'll keep working on this, trying to get answers. My Amazon Author Page is now nearly disabled, through no fault of my own, so anyone  following the link I generally post will see something pretty amateurish and pathetic. I was so proud of that page, encompassing my author profile, my blog posts, and a photo gallery which included images of the covers of my books (kind of important for recognition!). Amazon has dropped all these features without explaining it. So there's not much left but bare bones. I may have to set something up myself, but I'm still wondering why they would do this. It won't sell any books for THEM if they put up shitty webpages for authors that do more harm than good. But anyway, have a happy new year! May 2023 be COVID FREE.

Isaac Asimov falls asleep during interview

One of the greatest science fiction writers of all time falls asleep during an interview.

Victorian Chrismas Cats: to bring you cheer!

 TO BRING YOU CHEER. . . 

. . . THIS TIME OF YEAR!

Flickers and jays, oh happy days! Return of the Back Yard Birds

Every Hallmark Christmas Movie. . .

 

OH YES.

🌹BRIDAL TRANSFORMATIONS: The Magic of Camay!🌹

There's something magical about Camay soap! It instantly transforms you into a Camay Bride. This sounds alarmingly like some polygamous group. I also think that guy at the end looks just a little TOO pleased. 

Harry and Meghan: get me the sick bag!

MEGHAN MCCAIN: Kiss America goodbye, Harry and Meghan, you've finally lost us: We're covering our eyes, plugging our ears and screaming -please God, make it stop

By Meghan Mccain For Dailymail.Com

Published: 14:01 EST, 16 December 2022 | Updated: 14:01 EST, 16 December 2022

Harry and Meghan have lost America.

That's the spectacularly clear conclusion after two volumes and six hours of a mind-numbingly deep dive into the Netflix saga of the world's most miserable (ex)royals.

Again, I watched, so you didn't have to.

Strikingly, the criticism is not just coming from loyalists or the old-school, conservative, anti-woke crusaders – it's the left that is unleashing.

Congrats H&M, you've done something Biden and Trump couldn't. You've brought America together.

Almost everyone is plugging their ears, covering their eyes, and screaming: Please God, make it stop!

The New York Times reheated the 'second serving of reviews' of the Megflix opus. 'Some critics have had their fill of the couple's account,' they write, detailing a laundry list of critics who found it to be a 'grudge-rehashing,' a 'gussied-up reality show' and 'out-of-touch, self-absorbed and cornier than a Hallmark movie.'

Left-leaning The Atlantic ran the headline, 'The Cringeworthy End of 'Harry & Meghan' on Netflix'… 'The ex-royals insist they're moving on. Viewers should be so lucky'. Far-left Salon ran the hilarious headline, 'It's okay to admit Harry and Meghan are annoying.' Yes, we know it's 'okay'.

The royally aggrieved couple's bestie, CBS News anchor Gayle King, who attended Meghan's baby shower, called the finale, 'very dicey'. Whoopi Goldberg said she had better things to do than watch it at all. Liberal shock jock Howard Stern was calling them 'whiny bitches… like the Kardashians but boring,' even before the series ended.

Harry and Meghan have lost America. That's the spectacularly clear conclusion after two volumes and six hours of a mind-numbingly deep dive into the Netflix saga of the world's most miserable (ex)royals. 

I could go on and on. But what do ordinary Americans think?

The current 'audience score' on the crowdsourced rating site Rotten Tomatoes is 14%. Honestly, it's hard to find something lower, so I gave up scrolling.

What happened? Not too long ago, it was completely taboo and could get you kicked off US and UK television - see Sharon Osbourne and Piers Morgan – for even questioning Harry and Meghan.

Well, that has clearly come to an end. And I'll tell you why:

First, no one likes clickbait.                                                                                                 

After the infamous Oprah interview and Volume I, everyone was expecting some bombshells. But it was all duds. The most explosive headline from Volume II was that Harry's brother screamed at him when H&M decided to ditch the family and pursue fame and fortune abroad.

But we're not told what William said. Harry receives a text from William after the Oprah sit-down, but we don't know what he wrote.

That's their style - all tease and no payoff.

We still don't know the identity of the 'royal racist' who allegedly questioned 'how dark' their son Archie's skin would be. We don't know the details of how Princess Kate allegedly made Meghan Markle cry before the wedding. We have no tangible proof that the royal family is institutionally racist.

This is what I spent six hours of my life waiting for? Instead, we are shown them crying during emotional hypnotherapy sessions – whatever that is.

Not to mention what they put their family through. How trashy to shame your own flesh and blood and for what? It was all smoke and no fire.

Second, and most importantly, Americans want to root for the underdog, but you've got to give us something – anything – to root for.

Never once in the entire series did Harry and Meghan show a scintilla of introspection. Never did they ask to be forgiven, or show personal accountability and growth.

According to them, there's nothing they could have done differently. They're perfect angels, blameless. In their telling, it was the Queen and the rampantly racist royal family who felt threatened by Meghan's incandescent star power. She's a super-mega-ultra-star. No one could possibly compete with her and she was punished for it.

Instead of anything resembling reality, we get a front row view into their home in one of the wealthiest areas in America, Montecito, California. It looks like a Nancy Meyers set, impeccably decorated, including one scene where Meghan is sitting on a chair with an Hermes blanket behind her that costs a cool $1,650.

Not to mention what they put their family through. How trashy to shame your own flesh and blood and for what? It was all smoke and no fire. 

They have horses, chickens, idyllic views of the coast. They ride in black SUV's with full security escorts. They take refuge in Tyler Perry's house and on private islands off of Canada, they stay in enormous penthouses in New York City, their dogs fly on private beds in their private planes with their team of assistants and nannies. But there's nothing redeeming about being ex-royals?

It's painfully obvious to everyone that they wouldn't be living this life and Netflix wouldn't be paying them $100 million dollars if they were not related to Queen Elizabeth. But again, there is no acknowledgement of this at all.

Finally, Meghan and Harry say they're ready to move on after their gruelling 17 months (oh my!) as working royals. But they're not moving on, not even a little bit. Harry's book 'Spare' drops in January and Meghan says her podcast series is not done yet. I'm sure both will serve up more painful memories and flimsy cheap shots at their relatives. They are oversaturating the market and they are not evolving. At some point, they are going to have to come up with a new act.

Maybe the greatest mistake that Harry and Meghan made was taking Americans for fools. Millions gave them the benefit of the doubt. They watched their watched interviews and shows with open minds and at the end – nothing. It remains to be seen whether Americans will buy their book and whatever other grievance porn they create next. But judging from what we're reading and hearing today – America has moved on, even if they haven't.

Please note! To my loyal fans (all 37 of them): I'm still working on my problems with Blogger and so far haven't come up with a way to bring my comments section back, along with posting videos from YouTube and other things. I am TRYING not to freak out about it! I hope this is the very last thing I post about H & M, who are coming across as self-absorbed, petty, angry, and overall sickening.  Meantime, I'll have to try to get some help from Blogger, as my son the tech genius claims that Google isn't the problem - though I have had unending problems with Google lately with both the blog and my YouTube channel, Stay tuned for the solution! 

PLEASE STAND BY!

I am having numerous problems with this blog, having somehow lost touch with Google and having to sign in every time I even look at the home page. As it stands, there is a lot in this blog that has been mysteriously disabled, and so far I can't get it back. I am fairly certain the comments section is disabled, as I only get a blank white square where the comments box should be. 

I will likely have to contact Blogger, but last time I did that I got nowhere because I don't "speak computer", and when I try to put it in plain English, they act as if they don't know what I am talking about, or even take shots at me for being ignorant. There are a lot of things that are supposed to show on my home page which now don't, as I can only get the generic home page that other people see, making me sign in 15 times a day and STILL not have the features I need. 

The little symbols on my home page, i. e. the little pencil through which I used to be able to easily edit, is gone, along with all the rest of them. All I can say is, they looked like little wrenches here and there. I don't know what to call these things, but if I refer to the "little editing pencil" or "the little wrenches",  I am told they don't exist and I am speaking gibberish. It is extremely disheartening, not to mention brutal on the self-esteem.

The upshot of it is, I may have to try to manage with a partially-disabled Blogger, with a lot of features vanishing for no discernible reason. The settings are rudimentary (yes, I HAVE tried the settings, Blogger! Don`t  tell me what a "setting" is, because I know!), and most of them are greyed out and can't even be changed. The worst heartbreak for me is apparently losing my comments section, or at least the ability to receive them via email, which I can no longer set up in a blank white box. I very often get comments on ten-year-old posts, but now, if I get them at all, I will never know it, as I can't set up the email feature. It's no longer there.

I love this blog and have kept it for twelve years without any major mishaps. The site has been updated several times, so no, it is NOT a "dinosaur" which is actually obsolete, as I am so often told. I don't want to switch to a more sterile, streamlined blog platform. I like it the way it is. My blog celebrates obsolete technology, along with silent films, old ads, etc., so a slick format would not work at all - and besides, I HATE "slick"! 

I feel pretty obsolete myself right now, and I have no way of telling how to get these features back, if it is even possible. I don't even know why they went away, except that I lost touch with Google for some unknown reason, and my son the techie had to help me get it back. The worst of it is losing my comments, but the box that comes up is now completely blank except for a "SORRY!" Hey, THEY'RE sorry? I'm sorry I even got up this morning. 

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

😻WRAP your CAT for CHRISTMAS!😻

An all-time YouTube classic, from back in the days when YouTube was all about sharing the fun. This cat must enjoy the sensation of being swaddled, but given the fact most cats love to cram their bodies into tight spaces (my 16-pounder tries to squeeze into a shoebox), it might not be as remarkable as it looks. I think getting kitty to lie down on the paper and stay there would be the easy part. They don't show the cat being released from his paper bondage, but it might be cute to plunk him under the tree like that just as everyone is coming down the stairs on Christmas morning.

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

"SMILE, PLEASE!" (Harold Lloyd has a mouse in his pants!)

Harold Lloyd could do a lot with a little (one of the definitions of genius), and completely charm an audience in the space of one minute. His physical comedy had no equal. In this delightful clip, a photographer is trying to get him to hold still as a fly lands on his nose, and a mouse runs up his pants leg. 

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

MUSICAL COFFEE POT! Classic Ad for Maxwell House

This is one of those GENIUS ads for Maxwell House coffee. Along with the "cup and a half of flavor", this one was unforgettable, with those simple, effective visuals, the warm voiceover, and the coffee-perk tune on the woodblocks. 

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

JOKERMAN

 

Jokerman

Standing on the water, casting your bread

While the eyes of the idol with the iron head are glowing

Distant ships sailing into the mist

You were born with a snake in both of your fists while a hurricane was blowing

Freedom just around the corner for you

But with truth so far off, what good will it do.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune

Bird fly high by the light of the moon

Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

So swiftly the sun sets in the sky

You rise up and say goodbye to no one

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread

Both of their futures, so full of dread, you don't show one

Shedding off one more layer of skin

Keeping one step ahead of the persecutor within.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune

Bird fly high by the light of the moon

Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

You're a man of the mountains, you can walk on the clouds

Manipulator of crowds, you're a dream twister

You're going to Sodom and Gomorrah

But what do you care ? Ain't nobody there would want marry your sister

Friend to the martyr, a friend to the woman of shame

You look into the fiery furnace, see the rich man without any name.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune

Bird fly high by the light of the moon

Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

Well, the Book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy

The law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers

In the smoke of the twilight on a milk-white steed

Michelangelo indeed could've carved out your features

Resting in the fields, far from the turbulent space

Half asleep near the stars with a small dog licking your face.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune

Bird fly high by the light of the moon

Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

Well, the rifleman's stalking the sick and the lame

Preacherman seeks the same, who'll get there first is uncertain

Nightsticks and water cannons, tear gas, padlocks

Molotov cocktails and rocks behind every curtain

False-hearted judges dying in the webs that they spin

Only a matter of time 'til the night comes stepping in.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune

Bird fly high by the light of the moon

Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

It's a shadowy world, skies are slippery gray

A woman just gave birth to a prince today and dressed him in scarlet

He'll put the priest in his pocket, put the blade to the heat

Take the motherless children off the street

And place them at the feet of a harlot

Oh, Jokerman, you know what he wants

Oh, Jokerman, you don't show any response.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune

Bird fly high by the light of the moon

Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

Soldier of Fortune: The Ballad of Paladin

Paladin, Paladin, where do you roam? One of the coolest things about Have Gun Will Travel is the end theme, sung by someone named Johnny Western. In the first season the theme consisted of only the first four lines, later expanded, the credits rolling while Richard Boone ambles into the frame on a horse, does that thing with his hat, and then saunters into the distance. 

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

"Get down on your knees and BEG!" Paladin lays it on the line

Have Gun Will Travel was not only the coolest Western of the 1960s, but one of the coolest TV shows of all time. The rugged and enigmatic Richard Boone had a certain gravitas, a "thing" he did with his hat which was a signature move, and a way of ambling along with his horse on a loose rein. He was so charismatic that we almost forgot that he was actually a hit man, a hired gun and bounty hunter who was incredibly selfish and egotistical. But OH, he had style! From his ruffled shirts and his quotations of poetry, he was a ladies' man, but in the inevitable final shootout he was as alpha male as they come.

I was delighted to discover that this stark four-note theme was composed by none other than my favorite movie composer, Bernard Hermann, who wrote the score for Psycho, Taxi Driver, and many other classics. He says so much with so little, kind of like Paladin himself.

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

"Don't flush that fish!" Man catches 67-pound goldfish

Fisherman catches 67-pound goldfish

Taylor Nicioli, CNN • Updated 23rd November 2022

Angler Andy Hackett lands one of the world's biggest goldfish ever caught. The gigantic orange specimen, aptly nicknamed The Carrot, weighed a whopping 67 pounds, 4 ounces.

(CNN) — Here's a fisherman's story that's no tall tale.

After a 25-minute battle, UK angler Andy Hackett caught a colossal carp, nicknamed "The Carrot," that weighed in at a staggering 67 pounds, 4 ounces (30 kilograms). The giant fish is believed to be the second largest of her type ever to be caught, according to BlueWater Lakes, the fishery in France's Champagne region where the giant lives.

With its striking orange color, the massive goldfish-like creature easily stands out as it swims below the water's surface. The Carrot, however, has proven to be a challenge to catch. Hackett landed the prized fish, a hybrid of a leather carp and a koi carp, on November 3 while visiting the lake site.

"With normal fish, you struggle to see them if they're just under the surface, but The Carrot is obviously bright orange so you can't miss it," Hackett told BBC. "It's a much sought-after fish, not many people have caught it, it's quite elusive."

BlueWater Lakes provides anglers with a private spot to try a hand at pulling in one of its many fish weighing over 50 pounds (22.7 kilograms) — and some even over 90 pounds (40 kilograms).

"We put The Carrot in about 20 years ago as something different for the customers to fish for. Since then it has grown and grown but it doesn't often come out," fishery manager Jason Cowler told the Daily Mail. "It's not the biggest resident in the lake, but by far the most outstanding."

After Hackett pulled in Carrot and had her weighed, she was released back into the lake. The fishery has a "no retention" rule put in place, so anglers never carry the fish onto land. The BlueWater team also noted on its Facebook page that the fish are treated for any injuries before their prompt release back into the water.

The fishery has monitored Carrot's growth fairly often, as she was pulled in nine times by fishermen last season. After breaking the 60-pound (27-kilogram) mark for the first time in February, the carp swam free for nine months until Hackett reeled her in.

The average domestic goldfish weighs less than a pound, but the species can reach much bigger proportions in varying circumstances. If given lots of space, with the proper diet and water conditions, carp species, including goldfish and koi, have the potential for a large amount of growth, which explains Carrot's impressive size.

Often the largest found goldfish are unwanted pets that have been released into the wild by their owners. Discarded animals can negatively impact the delicate balance of a natural habitat. Invasive, football-size goldfish were found in a lake in Burnsville, Minnesota, in July 2021, resulting in city officials pleading with residents to not release their aquatic pets into the lake, as they could harm the local environment.

"A 70-pound carp is a really big, impressive fish," said Dr. Zeb Hogan, research biologist at the University of Nevada, Reno, and former host of the "Monster Fish" show on the National Geographic Channel. "There are actually different kinds of carp that are relatives of goldfish, that get really big, that are found in Europe and Asia — some of which can get up to about 500 pounds."

The growth seen in these hefty fish is referred to as indeterminate growth, a condition in which animals grow rapidly when young and continue to increase in size after reaching adulthood, according to Hogan.

"They just keep growing, the longer that they live," Hogan said. "It'll just keep growing and getting bigger, and maybe in a few years someone else will catch it and it'll be even bigger."

The fishery team said on Facebook that Carrot is "in excellent health and condition," and could even live for another 15 years or more. "Long may her stardom continue," the team added.

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!

Songs of the Pogo: ALL the words!

 

When we originally bought this album in 1951, it came with a very classy-looking Songs of the Pogo hardcover book with all the music (written and arranged by Norman Monath) and lyrics by Walt Kelly. I also remember some lavish illustrations from the Okefenokee Swamp. Alas, all of this has been lost, at least to me. A few relatively-pristine copies of the original record are still floating around, and someone transcribed a very clean-sounding one onto a CD which also contains some very weird Walt Kelly readings. (Probably available on YouTube.) But the words are now only available through somebody-or-other's auditory transcript, and as always it's laced with mondegreens (misheard lyrics, as in "Scuse me while I kiss this guy"). I have done my best to correct these, but again, I had to rely on my ear. Potlocky was the most fiendishly difficult to decipher, and after a couple dozen listenings I gave up on a few lines and gave it my best guess. Some of these seem to venture into the land of the surreal, or fall into the category of verbal jazz. I am very sad Gershwin didn't live to see and appreciate Songs of the Pogo - somehow I think it would have delighted him.

Go Go Pogo

As Maine go oh-so Pogo-go Key Largo,
Otsego to Frisco go-to Fargo,
Okeefenokee playin'

A-possum on a Pogo
Stick around and see the show

Go over land alive-a band o' jive will blow go-Pogo
I-go you-go who-go to-go Polly-voo go,
From Caravan Diego, a-Waco and Oswego,
Tweedle-de he-go she-go we-go me-go Pogo.

Atascadero wheeler barrow, some place in Mexico
Delaware Ohio and you don't need the text to go
Wheeling, West Virginia 

With ev'rything that's in ya.
Down the line you'll see the shine
From Oregon to Caroline

Eenie meenie minie Kokomo-go Pogo.
Tishimingo, sing those lingo, whistling go.
Shamokin to Hoboken Chenango to Chicango
It's golly, I go goo-goo goin' go-go Pogo.

(musical interlude)

Atascadero wheeler barrow, some place in Mexico
Delaware Ohio and you Don't need the text to go.
Wheeling, West Virginia With ev'rything that's in ya.
Down the line you'll see the shine
From Oregon to Caroline,

Yes, eenie meenie minie Kokomo go Pogo.
Tishimingo, sing those lingo, whistling go.
Shamokin to Hoboken, Chenango to Chicango
It's golly, I go goo-goo goin' go-go Pogo!

Editor's note. I wasn't going to comment on these. Really, I wasn't, because what can you say? It's the craziest explosion of verbal popcorn I've ever seen, with twists and turns and convolutions, puns on puns. But even that doesn't begin to describe it. This particular song, sung by Walt Kelly in a gravelly voice that reminds me of my Uncle Aubrey, needs to be heard to be believed.  Can you imagine, when I was three or four or five years old, trying to decipher what this meant, and how the grownups all seemed to know already? He uses a lot of place names in this one, but gives them a twist, like "caravan Diego" (San Diego?), "Tishimingo, sing those lingo, whistling go" -wait, wait, I know who this sounds like! Gerard Manley Hopkins, with his bizarrely twisted grammar and inverted sentence structure, strange vocabulary and useage, and punnish use or abuse of similes. I especially like "Wheeling, West Virginia with everything that's in ya".

Though the album is called Songs of the Pogo, this is the only song that mentions Pogo at all, and it's nothing to do with the comic strip. It's just a form of verbal scat-singing that riffs on the sound of Pogo:  I-go-you-go-who-go-to-go-polly-voo-go. I wonder now if some of Pogo's fans were a little disappointed in this, expecting Albert the Alligator caterwauling with his ukelele.

Whence that Wince?

I was stirrin' up a stirrup cup
In a stolen sterling stein,
When I chanced upon a ladle
Who was once my Valentine.

"Oh whence that wince, my wench?" quoth I.
She blushed and said, "Oh sir,
Old daddy isn't stirrin'
Since my momma's been in stir."

This one is a masterpiece of alliteration. I had no idea then what a stirrup cup is - it took until about last Friday to find out. 

Stirrup cup: a cup of wine or other alcoholic drink offered to a person on horseback who is about to depart on a journey. 

OK, so I DIDN'T know what it meant. I thought it was just "a drink" or mulled wine or something, and let the "stirrup" part go as an obscurity. "In stir" is another archaic expression, something to do with being in jail, but I don't think the average person would know that. Nice how it fits together with "stirrup cup" - didn't even notice that until just this second.

Northern Lights

Oh, roar a roar for Nora,
Nora Alice in the night,
For she has seen Aurora
Borealis burning bright.

A furore for our Nora!
And applaud Aurora seen!
Where, throughout the Summer, has
Our Borealis been?

This is one of Kelly's more haiku-like poem/songs. Pongs? Soems? It looks simple, but just try doing it. I had a cousin Nora once, Irish, and this song reminds me of her. And that's all I can say. It's beautiful, it is. Take care of the sounds, as Lewis Carroll once said, and the sense will take care of itself. Also, I like the way Nora Alice and Borealis sort of reflect each other.

Slopposition

Oh, once the opposition was completely opposed
To all the supposition that was generally supposed
But now the superstitions that were thought to be imposed
Are seen by composition to be slightly decomposed

Kelly wordplay, not as great as some, but they can't all be Go Go Pogo, can they? There is a nice echo between the "ition" words and the "osed" words in each line. Come to that, I couldn't do it, at all.

A Song Not for Now

A song not for now you need not put stay
A tune for the was can be sung for today
The notes for the does-not will sound as the does
Today you can sing for the will-be that was.

This one is REALLY simple, but Norman Monath's tune is innocent and sweet. The arrangements in this album generally are a tad lavish, and some of them are even precious. But those were the times. There IS an innocence about Pogo the character that keeps the strip from becoming too cynical or smart-alecky. As time wore on, Kelly became more angrily political, and I think that took something away from it.

Twirl, Twirl

Twirl! Twirl! Twinkle between!
The tweezers are twist in the twittering twain.
Twirl! Twirl! Entwiningly twirl
‘Twixt twice twenty twigs passing platitudes plain.

Plunder the plover and rover rides round.
Ring all the rungs on the brassily bound,
Billy, Swirl! Swirl! Swingingly swirl!
Sweep along, swoop along, sweetly your swain.

Again, the alliteration is glitteration, but when we get to "platitudes plain", I think of it as a place, a plane, or perhaps an airborne vehicle. These things fall on the ear more than they live on the page. Anyway, I don't think a standard-issue mind could think of the line "plunder the plover and rover rides round". It might be Rover, for all I know. There IS a dog in Pogo, isn't there? (I can't get it out of my head now. Platitude's Plane.)

Parsnoops

Oh, the parsnips were snipping the snappers,
While the parsley was parcelling the peas,
And parsing a sentence from handle to hand
Was a hornet who hummed with the bees.

The turnips were passing the time of the day
In the night of the moon on the porch,
When the shape from the shadows so shortfully shrift
That the scallions were screeching the scorch!

I don't know, I don't find this one very friendly, but I don't think anyone else on the planet could have written it. The Monath tune is kind of jaggedy somehow, and I find it uncomfortable. There are moments in Kelly where I feel kind of frightened, like I'm wandering around in a mindscape that is a tad too bizarre. 

The Keen and the Quing

The Keen and the Quing were quirling at quoits,
In the meadow behind the mere.
Tho’ mainly the meadow was middled with mow,
And heretical hitherto here.

The Prince and the Princess were plaiting the plates
And prating quite primly the peer.
And that’s why the Duchess stuck ducks on the Duke
For no one was over to seer.

Now violin only with pizzicato:

Plinky, plinky, pa-lunkity plank, plank, plank

Pa-lunky, pa-lunky, plink plink plink plink plink

Arco, zoom-zoomety-zoom!

Ska-weakity, squeaky squeak-squeaky ska-weak
Con sordino squeaky ska-weak
Now sensa sordino, squeak squeak squeak sque-eeak
Now pizzicato,  plunk plunk plunk
Plunk, plunk!

This one is a favorite, perhaps my all-time favorite, not just because of the gorgeous Spoonerisms but because of the delicate violin passage at the end, with instructions from the baritone. All the instructions are technically correct, by the way - I checked with my violin teacher, who was quite impressed. We all know what pizzicato is. Arco means long, smooth bows. Con sordino means playing with a mute, sensa sordino is playing without a mute. The "squeakity squeak" is most familiar from my own musical instruction.

Man's Best Friend

What gentler heart, what nobler eye
Doth warm the winter day,
Than the true, blue orb and the oaken core
Of beloved old dog Tray?

I never knew why a dog would be called Tray. Again, the reference is obscure, an old Stephen Foster song that I had to look up: 

Old dog Tray’s ever faithful, 

Grief cannot drive him away, 

He’s gentle, he is kind; 

I’ll never, never find 

A better friend than old dog Tray. 

Tray is one of those Southern names, like Trey, sometimes used as a baby name. Has some card-playing meaning, and something to do with fives. It reminds me of other Southern names with II or III after them. Treat Williams comes to mind. Erica Jong had a wild Southern character named Dart, and another one called Trick that was probably a play on Treat. And then there's Ring. As in Lardner. Note that all of these names represent things: a tray, a treat, a dart, a trick, a ring. 

Don't Sugar Me

Oh, I may be your cup of tea,
But, baby, don’t you 'Sugar’ me!
Don’t stir me, boy, nor try to spoon,
Don’t sugar me, 'cause us is throon!

I won’t sip a lip with you, less
You want a granulated lump or two,
Just roll them eyes right out that door,
Them saucer eyes ain’t square no more.

All them things, them diamond rings,
Them stuff you promised me,
Were figments, Newton, sure as shootin’,
Shootin’ sure as A, B, see

The teapot pouts that the kettle’s blue,
It don’t work out that spar is true,
Just boil away, boy, don’t sit and brew,
Don’t sugar me, cause us is through!

This is a torch song with a twist. It has probably the greatest concentration of puns and double meanings of any of them, along with great lines like "don't 'Sugar' me, 'cause us is throon!" "Them stuff" always impressed me, along with "figments, Newton". One thing Kelly does, especially in this one, is use common phrases in strange ways: "a granulated lump or two", "roll them eyes right out that door", "boil away, boy, don't sit and brew". "Don't sugar me" is an interesting choice, because it can mean dumping sugar on/in someone or something, or being over-familiar with endearments. But he says it better.

Whither the Starling

Whither the starling and whither the crow?
And whither the weather when wither the snow?
The weaver’s wet daughter has damped the clothes
With wavelets of water left over from snowthes.

Left over from snowthes,

Left over from snowthes,
Right over and under 

And yonder she goes.

"Wavelets of water left over from snowthes." I feel like that right now. We had a record snowfall over Christmas, it's all melting now, and we're having to deal with those wavelets of water. Left over from snowthes. And there is just something wonderfully wacky about "the weaver's wet daughter".

Willow the Wasp

There were some wasps in our town
Who, with their wonderous wives,
They suckled at the bramble bush
In search of lovely lives.

And, when they saw the bush was dry,
Quick!, each and every one,
They wrapped it well in wire barb,
To shield it from the sun.

Outstanding line: "In search of lovely lives". I have long wanted to use this as the title for something. "Wire barb" used to bother me as a kid, I can't say why. In fact, I found the whole song disturbing, with its shivering minor-key strings. Of course, the term WASP had not been coined yet.

Truly True

Gamboling on the gumbo, with the gambits all in gear,
I daffed upon a dilly who would be my dolly dear,
Oh dilly, I would dally, if you’d be but truly true,
How silly, I must sally off to do my duly do.

Nice, but nothing special, except for the barbershop harmony.

Many Harry Returns

Once you were two,
Dear birthday friend,
In spite of purple weather.

But now you are three
And near the end
As we grewsome together.

How fourthful thou,
Forsooth for you,
For soon you will be more!

But – ‘fore
One can be three be two,
Before be five, be four!

Not sure if he wrote this for one of his children. Kelly did feature adorable baby animals in the strip, such as Pup Dog and the mysterious "woodchuck" Grundoon, anthropomorphized into completely human form.

Potlucky

Briskly breathing brackish brine,
Brazenly we bray,
Simmering songs of swimming swine,
Scattering Saturday,

Hearts are heavy, clubs are trump,
Diamonds are in rough
Spades are spotty, jokers jump,
Dummies are enough

Can we eggplant, can we corn,
Can we succotash?
String we strong beans for the morn
Masterful moustache.

Deathly dumplings made of mud,
Grace our festive board,
Free from auntie flees the flood
Tropical storm discord,

Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, now,
Cup ye now an eye,
Weary deary keary cow,
Moo and kicks his pie,

The speaker spoke
the reeler wheels
A kingdom for a hum,
A rub a dub, a dub mobile
Oh rub a dub,
A dub.

This song should be illegal. "Masterful moustache" is probably the only line I can mentally process. I had to piece together various parts of this lyric which were badly mangled/mondegreened, but I am still not sure I got it quite right. This is another place where I get a little scared, for some reason. He makes language do stuff it just doesn't want to do.

The Hazy Yon

How pierceful grows the hazy yon!
How myrtle petaled thou!
For spring hath sprung the Cyclotron,
How high browse thou, brown cow?

Some group apparently recorded this fairly recently, and no one had any idea where it came from. It has a hazy harp accompaniment that slowly fades, along with the singer's voice, at the end. It may well be a play on the odd statement or question, "How now, brown cow?" - which I never understood, so. . . I'll look it up. . . 

"A nonsense phrase with no real meaning as such, although it also is sometimes used as a jovial greeting. This phrase used to be used in elocution teaching to demonstrate rounded vowel sounds. It isn't clear when it was coined or where. It was certainly known in the USA by 1942, although probably earlier. People used to pronounce this as 'high nigh brine kai'." That last bit is, of course, the Canadian pronunciation.

Lines Upon a Tranquil Brow

Have you ever while pond'ring the ways of the morn,
Thought to save just a bit, just a drop in the horn
To pour in the ev'ning or late afternoon,
Or during the night when we're shining the moon?

Have you ever cried out while counting the snow,
Or watching the tomtit warble hello...
"Break out the cigars, this life is for squirr'ls,
We're off to the drugstore to whistle at girls!"

Ah! "Drop in the horn" is another one, a very obscure, old, perhaps even Elizabethan term (Kelly having a mind for this historical Southern stuff). It means the last bit in a bottle of booze. Until I figured this out, which took only 56 years, I didn't know what "to pour in the evening" meant at all. I thought the guy was sort of pouring like vapour, like those monster creatures who waft under the crack of a door. I love that "when we're shining the moon" - sheer poetry - and the cry, "Break out the cigars! This life is for squirrels."  

BONUS. Here's a splendid Kelly site that you could easily get lost in. Great reproductions of his Sunday colour comics, along with much older stuff. Wonder where he got permission?

http://whirledofkelly.blogspot.ca/

Who Killed Cock Robin? (according to Pogo)