💗FIRST Ducklings of the Season! Adorable fluffballs sitting on a rock💗

Happy Spring!

BUSTED: God's Bartender! (Or: how the Pentecostals are transforming Ireland)

(I stumbled upon this essay in righteous indignation while trying to find a photo of Rodney Howard-Browne, who is depicted above, dancing his little grey flannel heart out when he's supposed to be preaching. This is yet another protest against the admittedly stupid and self-indulgent "Toronto Blessing" thing that I had hoped had died out years ago. I guess if you want to get down on the ground and squeal like a pig, that's OK with God, but it still reminds me of something out of Deliverance. An interesting side-note: this is the third time I have attempted to upload Rodney's little dance of joy on YouTube. It has already been taken down twice for violating community standards. Not for his dancing, but because they believed I was being disrespectful to Christianity. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned his arrest in 2020 for holding packed church services during the height of COVID!)

Carryduff Elim continues charismaniac deceit with ‘Transform Ireland’ conference

Isaiah 29:13: “Wherefore the Lord said, Forasmuch as this people draw near me with their mouth, and with their lips do honour me, but have removed their heart far from me, and their fear toward me is taught by the precept of men.”

More charismatic heretics are to be imported to our shores by Carryduff Elim Church this weekend as they host their ‘Transform Ireland’ conference on Saturday, 27 April.

Not content with having inflicted the God-defying and blasphemous antics of the self-proclaimed ‘Holy Ghost bartender’ Rodney Howard-Browne (pictured, below) on the poor people of Carryduff and the surrounding area, they are bringing more such characters to Northern Ireland.

On this occasion they are bringing in Ken Gott and Tim Dunnett from Bethshan Church in the north east of England, particularly centred around Sunderland and Newcastle.

Bethshan is yet another of the charismatic churches which has embraced the so-called ‘Toronto Blessing’ and all its outrageous claims and manifestations.

Ken Gott is a very senior figure in the modern charismatic movement in the British Isles and indeed is credited with being the man who brought the Toronto Blessing to the UK.

This is, of course, the charismatic wave in which people were noted to have fallen over with “holy laughter” and often characterised by people lying on the ground in convulsions and roaring like lions and barking like dogs, apparently under the influence of the Holy Spirit.

A farmyard scene, which anyone who has had the misfortune of attending such events or anyone who has seen such videos on YouTube will have witnessed, is in no way edifying and is utterly repugnant to the Word of God.

There is no “reverence” or “godly fear” at those sort of meetings.

Indeed, there is a report online from a man who attended one of Ken Gott’s meetings back in 1995 in Sunderland. It is on a website called ‘Banner Ministries’, which, while we do not agree with everything on the site, does feature this very intriguing, first hand experience.

This is part of his account.

It says: “The band leader, between inane choruses, encouraged us to “receive” whilst doubling up and making short grunting noises at virtually every sentence, as indeed did other members of the audience. The majority were laughing and thinking it a huge joke.

“We were also urged to ignore these strange visible and audible manifestations and to “throw off constraint”. “It is catching!” was Pastor Ken Gott’s appropriate remark, whilst he too doubled up groaning as one with birthpangs.

“Great emphasis was placed upon wording such as “River of God, sets our feet a dancing, fills our mouths with laughter” and “We rejoice that the river is here”. “Drink the new wine” was sung in prophecy by a band member.

“Strange wafting of hands by those around us broke out, and a form of backwards breaststroke – “swimming in the Spirit?” Twitching, doubling up, swaying and so forth was evidenced throughout the audience. Significant comments from Pastor Gott were: “We have come too far, we can’t go back” and “The world loves this” and “God is into parties”.

Then there is this, from the same account.

“Now for the “ministry time” of the evening. This began by clearing the decks. Chairs were moved to the walls. Then the designated teams wandered around zapping the majority of people. We were approached but graciously declined to receive. When they ran out of targets, they turned upon themselves and each other, this happening directly in front of us. Before long the hall resembled a battlefield, bodies lying everywhere, laughing, twitching, convulsing – and the teams wafting their arms over them.

“Before too long however, a large number of individuals began sitting up from the floor, looking around them bemused and bewildered, as if to say “What’s next?” It was at that point that my indignation and dismay gave way to pity for these poor deceived and deluded people.”

Getting “zapped” by the ringleaders in this deception is very much akin to what was happening in the video of Rodney Howard-Browne’s antics which we linked to our previous article on him. You can read the article by clicking here, although the YouTube video we had previously linked to the article has suddenly been removed by Rodney Howard-Browne’s ministry company, Revival Ministries International. We couldn’t possibly guess why.

Anyway, here we have Ken Gott saying “God is into parties”. What sort of a way to speak is that? Where is the reverence or godly fear?

Pastor George Ritchie and Pastor Gavin Allen (pictured, below) are the men in charge at Carryduff Elim and they bear a grave responsibility for what they are inflicting on the poor deceived attendees at that church.

They and their church were very much aware of the article we had written highlighting the utter inappropriateness of having the likes of Rodney Howard-Browne in your church’s pulpit.

Yet they were happy, despite having God’s Word brought before them to demonstrate why Rodney Howard-Browne ought not to be recommended to anyone, to persist with that event and now to arrange this one.

We can only conclude that Carryduff Elim is fully caught up in the ungodly excesses of the charismatic movement and urge anyone who truly loves the Lord to separate themselves therefrom.

More than that, we would call on anyone reading this who knows anyone who attends Carryduff Elim or who is planning to attend this conference to share this with them to warn them of the great danger posed by this ‘Transform Ireland’ conference.

Do not allow yourself or anyone you know to come under the influence of this counterfeit Christianity, which says lots of the right sounding things but is ultimately an empty vessel.

Pastor Howard-Browne's infamous "MUG  SHOT"!

Am I the same table? Thoughts on an arabesque

 

This is just one of those crazy things. A piece came into my head tonight that I hadn't even thought about in years - some sort of crazy whistling or pinging, only synthesized. Then I heard myself say, "That's Debussy." Yes, it was the  Arabesque by Debussy, but whatonearth version was this?? Hadn't I heard it on TV a long time ago? Where, and when?

All it took was to do a search on YouTube under Debussy Arabesque Synthesizer, and up it popped, over a dozen versions of the same piece: and it was the right one, the whistling, pinging one. This was created by Isao Tomita, one of the pioneers of synthesized sound.

But it didn't solve where I had heard it before.

I had to go to the comments for that.

Someone mentioned that this piece was the theme song for a short program called Star Hustler that came on PBS in the '80s, usually late at night,. Later, as the name "hustler" increasingly came to mean prostitute, it was changed to Star Gazer. Jack Horkheimer, whoever he is, would come on and blather on for five minutes about the wonders of astronomy. He was fat, cheesy, decked out in a grey polyester windbreaker, a kind of bargain-basement Carl Sagan. Star Gazer was a crash course, fast and aggressive, a kind of "learn this or else" that made you feel even dumber at the end - but the only really interesting thing about it was the theme song.

Realizing that this DID come from somewhere, that it was an actual "thing", was a revelation. I had not imagined it.

I've pulled information out of the internet like this before, and found my neurons exposed to certain things for the first time in decades. It's a weird experience. They say that every seven years, every single cell in your body is replaced. One by one, they die and are regenerated, until there's no original material left at all. In that case, it's a completely new me who is listening to this music - which means that, in truth,  I've never heard it before.

This piece also jacked open the cover on a new genre, or a new composer of a genre - new to me, at least. I must admit that I had never heard of Isao Tomita, but he is everywhere on YouTube - master of the synthesizer before anyone was using it in movies or in recordings. I had a delicious album called Moog by Dick Hyman (and I've found that one again, too) which was a dinosaur version of synthesizer, quite primitive by any standard, but which I still love to hear, because . . .  I've never heard it before!  All my cells have been replaced multiple times since I first heard it in the '60s, so it's REALLY new to me now.

I went through a time in my life when I feverishly took courses - not to get a degree, which I knew was useless and impossible, but just to try to learn something. One of the courses - Philosophy 101 or something - talked about how, if you had a table, and one day replaced a leg, then the next day replaced another leg, and so on, and so on, and then replaced the top. . . so that ALL the parts were now completely different parts. . . would it be the same table?

I am not the same table. I know I am not the same table, but I am able to hold on to the shape of the table I used to be, because of a little thing called Memory. Memory is a dense tangle like seaweed, with molluscs and clams and giant squid attached to it. Without it, I would be a piece of meat, plain and simple. But even animals need Memory, or they would not know who to flee, or where to fly.

BLOGGER'S REALIZATION. My God, the Arabesque on the synthesizer is just like the X Files theme! I mean that whistly, swoopy effect that is almost human, but not quite. Whoever composed this eerie snippet must have been influenced by Isao Tomita. Or is it possible they had never heard him before?

👽ORSON WELLES: What REALLY Happened in War of the Worlds!

The sky is falling! No, really. The true story of the War of the Worlds broadcast is much more mundane. Most of the post-broadcast hype was invented by Welles, aided and abetted by the media and even the radio station, who knew good ratings when they saw them. Yes, there WAS some public response and alarm from people who had tuned in late and hadn't heard Welles' explanation that it was just a drama. But it was nowhere near the scale that has passed into legend. For the most part, you  NEVER hear this correction anywhere - I stumbled on it on a public access radio broadcast heard by very few people. As for Welles, he never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

Is THIS the worst troll you've ever seen?

 

Vintage Miniature Lucky Troll Doll with Red Hat

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I've seen some bad ones, but this is BAD. It looks tiny enough to be a gumball troll, and while I had a few of them, they were too ugly to display anywhere. It looks as if someone has mercifully covered the gaping hole in his skull with a homemade pompom. 

Worst of all, the sum total for this thing (in Canadian dollars) is $47.00! For that little piece of junk. 

Why is this OK? Because it's not.

 NOTE: This appeared on my Facebook page today. I really think I shouldn't use social media at all, as it seems to take me to a place I don't want to go. No one reads it anyway, do they? But today some shit went down that I really needed to write about, for myself if for no one else. 

I don’t usually post rants on social media, but something happened today that I have to report on. We love to walk around Como Lake in Coquitlam, an urban park full of wildlife and old guys fishing and young kids prancing around and people just generally strolling along in the peace and quiet. But when we arrived for our usual peaceful stroll, I heard this godawful noise – a loud, harsh, sustained buzz, even more irritating than those awful drone sounds – and then I saw this streak of “something” speeding over the water, so fast I could barely take it in.

I had never seen a model/remote control boat move that fast, rocketing from one side of the lake to the other and making a sound so loud you could not tune it out. Four guys were sitting on the shore on lawn chairs taking turns operating this thing, chuckling and guffawing away like 8-year-olds doing something naughty – but it got worse. The guy taking his turn at the controls ran the model boat right up behind a Canada goose which was sitting peacefully in the water, perhaps even asleep. It startled and took off a nanosecond before the evil thing hit it.

 I strode up to the giggling group of grown men and said, “I’m going to report you for this. You’re harassing the wildlife in a public park, and that is NOT allowed.” The guy looked a tiny bit sheepish and said, “OK, I won’t do it again.” (I think he had been doing it for some time.) But I had more to say. “The geese are nesting right now. They’re vulnerable. This is a safe place for them, a sanctuary. This (and I began to cry) HURTS me to see.” The sheepish guy sort of mumbled a half-assed apology, then went right back to assaulting the lake and all the rest of us with  the noise and the hurtling speed.

Every once in a while the thing wiped out, spun around in the water and then reversed direction. It was going at such high speed it was literally flying above the surface of the water, so what would happen if it really flew out of control and hit someone? The geese weren’t the only ones in danger – there was a group of old men trying to fish and have a nice social gathering, and the atmosphere was completely ruined. 

Bill was so upset he stalked off, but I ran into another trailwalker who told me they had  actually covered up the prominent sign saying, “WARNING: No motorized craft or remote control models allowed” with a COAT. No kidding, so they think if the sign is covered up it’s okay? The trailwalker and I commiserated for a while, then I noticed the racket had suddenly stopped, and a few minutes later the four idiots had vacated, but left the coat (a child’s coat, which they had probably found lying on the trail) hanging over the sign. I took it down and tacked it up on a neutral area, thinking maybe someone would come back for it.

But I was astonished at the – what? Why is it OK for a model craft hurtling along at incredible speed to take a run at a living creature? Isn’t this lovely urban park something of a sanctuary for the birds? This particular lake attracts whole colonies of Canada geese, and soon we’ll be seeing plump fuzzy goslings floating around in the lake. I have no doubt these guys would love to take out a gosling or two, or maybe even the whole brood. If I ever see those bozos again I will report them, or maybe I should report them right now.

 I don’t want to be a complainer, and there’s too much ranting going on in the world right now, but this was atrocious behaviour in so-called grown men. I suppose the rest of the time they’re out in the woods bringing down elk and deer with rifles, drinking beer and guffawing at the sight of a magnificent animal sinking to its knees, shot dead.

💗The HORSE of my DREAMS!💗

When I was a litttle girl, I dreamed of two things: having birds fly down to eat out of my hand, and having a horse of my own. I did own a horse for a brief period, until vet bills, feed bills and boarding costs (and having to ride my bike miles out in the country, including in the heavy snows of Southwestern Ontario) made it impractical. But I did love model horses, and collected a lot of them, mostly made of china so they were extremely fragile. I would have done backflips of joy to have THIS model horse, which is part of the Bratz doll collection. Oh, and by the way, I now visit Burnaby Lake regularly, and red-winged blackbirds DO fly down and eat out of my hand - in fact, they bombard me so much I have to wear a hat to keep them out of my hair. It seems my dreams DO come true - I just have to wait 70 years for it.

THE MILLIONAIRE WALTZ: Dynamic Young Dancer in Incredible Performance!

Lauren does it again!!!

Tiny Quadruplet 🐐 🐐 🐐 🐐 kids doing great!

The kids are alright! These newborn goats are so new, they still have the umbilical cord attached. But they're already hopping around like they're on springs. They are so VERY  tiny, so VERY fuzzy, and their Mama watches over them with such diligence and care. How I wish my mother had been a goat.

GENIUS! Incredibly Talented Dancer in AMAZING Tap Number!

I have no words! The kid is amazing, and defies gravity. The joie de vivre, the grace, the class. . . This number is actually a tribute to the Nicholas Brothers, and Lauren gets all the moves right. You can hear Grandma raving in the background. 

Unlucky Leo (Worst toy ever??)

Vintage Lucky Leo The Lion Nodder 4" Dabs Vintage Japan Old Troll Doll Extremely Rare Bobblehead Retro Bobble Head Bottom of Form

Vintage from the 1970s

Ships from a small business in

Canada

Lucky Leo!!!

A vintage Nodder by Dabs, Made in Japan!!

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Price: CA$70.06

THE END

❤Do You See a Ghost? Eerie Black-and-white Images from Vintage Photos❤

Black and white, late at night. This is from a seemingly endless collection of strange, beautiful, disturbing, freaky, inexplicable images I've compiled over the years. Some are taken from my own life, such as the grainy photo of my childhood home on Victoria Ave., and my first birthday, with baby Margaret staring uncomprehendingly at a giant birthday cake with one candle, an obvious photo op for the family which was actually lost on me. But isn't that what childhood is all about?

Triplets Casco, Cranberry & Chickadee arrive!

The kids are alright! Three perfect little baby goats popped out and immediately began to bleat and hop around as if they're on springs. Speaking of spring. . . April is the cruellest month, eh? But these kids help restore my faith in nature, if not in human beings (who aren't worthy of it, most of the time).

I'm not getting notified about comments anymore, as the box I tick mysteriously gets "unticked" for reasons I can't figure out. So far I SEEM to be getting comments on the older ones, but who knows what is next. I've had Blogger screw up before, as it's a very old program that has barely been updated. That's what I like about it .Blogs are out of style anyway, but so am I, and I just don't feel like trying to "keep up". It sucks anyway, so here are the goats.

Marmot makes home in North Vancouver

My illustrious daughter Shannon Paterson covers an amazing story torn from the pages of Wild Kingdom! It's a marmot, folks, which seems impossible in busy, urban North Vancouver. BUT, we frequently walk around a man-made lake in the city of Coquitlam (it used to be a stone quarry), and a family of beavers KEEPS ON building lodges and felling trees at the edge of the lake. They've been relocated several times, but keep on coming back. The ruins of the lodge are still there, though most people don't know what the caved-in bundle of twigs and logs is. MANY of the trees have wire netting wrapped around the trunks to prevent the toothy creatures from literally felling giant trees. So, well, yes, a marmot. . .

Top Cat: the Mystery SOLVED!

 

(And now, for a summer rerun in the middle of April. I'm STILL getting comments on this post from 2017, which delights me no end!)

In my rediscovery of the magnificent Choo Choo, who was perhaps my favorite cartoon character of all time,  I've been thinking about some of the mysteries of the Top Cat theme song lyrics. This is, as far as I am aware, the correct version.

Top Cat, the most effectual
Top Cat, who's intellectual
Close friends get to call him T. C.
Providing it's with dignity

Top Cat
The indisputable leader of the gang
He's the boss, he's a VIP
He's a championship
He's the most tip top
Top Cat

Yes he's the chief, he's the king
But above everything
He's the most tip top
Top Cat

TOP CAT!

By God! I never knew the line was "he's a VIP" until just now, after listening to it seventy-seven times. But now that I hear it, that's all it could be. Most lyric sites say "he's a pip", but it's definitely NOT "pip". For a long time, it sounded to me more like "bip". Finally I find a site that says VIP, and I think: no way, nevermore! But yes, it works, if you pronounce it like one word, "vip" (and I'm not sure which way you spell it, upper- or lower-case). This means "very important person", though "VIC" would be more accurate. 

Not only that: one of the "misheard" lyrics below just clued me in on something. I think the second and third lines are usually heard as "whose intellectual/close friends get to call him T. C", but that doesn't make any sense. NONE of his friends are intellectual, not even my darling pink-coated, fluffy-tailed, Brooklyn-accented Choo Choo. But TC is smart as a whip. 

So it makes more sense to say:

Top Cat, the most effectual -
Top Cat, who's intellectual -
(A slight pause, which you can actually hear in the song, then the next thought):
Close friends get to call him T. C.
Providing it's with dignity.

It even makes better grammatical sense, at least to me. I added the dashes just for dash.

Now, can you believe I found whole web pages devoted to "mondegreens" (misheard lyrics) for the Top Cat theme? The "providing it's with dignity" line was especially problematic for people, reminding me of the Flintstones: "let's ride with the family down the street/through the courtesy of flphghghvfllgheep." It's worse than the "you know it's up to you, I think it's only fair" in the Beatles' She Loves You (quick - what's the next line?)

So a lot of the best mondegreens come from that line, often leading to shocking references to "whipping". This is a children's show, for God's sake (though you'd never know it by the crookedness and delinquency of T. C.'s gang of reprobates).

Original lyrics:

Close friends get to call him T. C. 

Providing it's with dignity

Misheard lyrics:

Close friends get to Quality Street
Nobody ain't gets whipping for tea

Close friends get to call him T.C.
Come right in, it's whipping for tea.

Close friends get to call him T.C.
Come on in he's whipping the 't'.

Close friends get to call him T.C.
Providing there's whipped cream for tea.

Close friends get to quality, see?
Provided it's with the kitty.
l
Close friends get to call him T.C.
Pro-fighting is whipped in the tea. 

So. When this show first came on, I was seven years old. It surprised me to find that out, because I think I "got" quite a bit of the humor in it. I noticed that most of the background music had been recycled from The Flintstones. I absolutely loved Choo Choo. He was, and is, adorable. For some reason I remember T. C. brushing his teeth before going to bed in the garbage can, and missing one side. That really bothered me, because I had been nagged and nagged about the proper way to brush my teeth.

As for the "with dignity" line, mine was the worst of all:

Close friends get to call him T. C. 
Most cats are just dripping to see
Top Cat (etc.) 

What that means, I don't even want to speculate on.

For my money, this is the best cover version of the Top Cat theme, which is ubiquitous on YouTube. I'm thinking of doing a version myself. This guy's ukelele chords are incredibly sophisticated. He looks a little bit like the kid from Deliverance, but that just adds to the mystique.



10 comments:

InviteeOctober 4, 2020 at 5:03 AM

I’m not convinced. Despite having tracked down and heard many supposedly original airings where it does seem to be “with dignity”, I still suspect it’s ACTUALLY “with invitee”. INVITEE is a little used word for INVITATION. The line therefore means that close friends can “call on T.C.” (visit T.C.” so long as they have an invitation. Even the man who wrote the lyrics, when later asked, said he didn’t know and no originally written lyrics survive! Nothing will shake my belief.ReplyDelete
Replies

Bunnycat.October 8, 2020 at 8:37 AM

Invitee is not a synonym of invitation. An invitee is a person who receives an invitation. The person who issues the invitation is the invited.Delete



Margaret GunningOctober 12, 2020 at 4:12 PM

Hey guys, thanks for the comments. I love it when someone reads my stuff a couple of years later. The Top Cat issue remains contentious. I was actually working on an updated version of this post when your comments came in! There is a Hanna-Barbera Wiki site with a LOT of cartoon lyrics on it, and here is what they said:

Top Cat!
The most effectual Top Cat!
Who's intellectual close friends get to call him T.C.
Providing it's with dignity.
Top Cat!
The indisputable leader of the gang.
He's the boss, he's a pip, he's the championship.
He's the most tip top,
Top Cat.
Yes he's a chief, he's a king,
But above everything,
He's the most tip top,
Top Cat.
Top Cat!

I still have a little trouble with the "the"/"a" bit, but it's not as important as the "whipping the tea" line, which I think has led to some creative alternatives that I like better than the original. And I'm sticking with my "providing it's with dignity." There is still a little bit of debate about whether it's TOP CAT who is intellectual, or if his CLOSE FRIENDS are intellectual. It has been argued his close friends are dumb as posts, which is true - but might this be a little irony sprinkled in?Delete


Reply


KolbeAugust 31, 2022 at 7:57 AM

"He's a Pip" does make sense. I've never heard anyone referred to as a V.I.P. without articulating each letter. Not that they couldn't have taken license and said "vip", figuring people might get it, but it's more sensible to assume the word "pip", which was known and used and easily understood especially by the adults watching at that time, though the word is all but obsolete now. It meant an "highly admirable, attractive person". It was such a common label it became something of a trend to use it in a negative way, rolling the eyes when referring to someone as "a pip". You'll see that in old movies from time to time.
As regards the comment that the guy on video covering the song looks a little "Deliverence" to you, what an insult. Have you gone back to look at the Deliverance kid since the 70's? No resemblance, save that he's a human being plucking strings.ReplyDelete
Replies

Margaret GunningAugust 31, 2022 at 10:18 AM

I liked the kid from Deliverance! Though he mimed the banjo playing,he added something unforgettable to the film. In reality, he wasn't a mentally challenged person, rather a local kid who wanted to do it and passed the audition, and throughout his life (I actually researched this) he was still treated like a celebrity. I would say the guy who rapes Ned Beatty was thoroughly detestable.
At any rate, I appreciate your comments. "Pip" just reminds me of something upper-class Brits say: "Cheerio, pip-pip" (though no Englishman EVER said that). An orange or lemon seed could also be called a "pip". But it does sound better than "vip". It always surprises me when something I posted five years ago gets some response. For one brief shining moment, there was a Top Cat YouTube channel, which of course disappeared due to copyright issues. Watching them again, I was impressed with how stylish the visuals were - a bit like Disney in 101 Dalmations (though totally different subject - stylized but not pretentious). BRING BACK T. C. (and Choo-Choo, of course). At very least, start showing them on YouTube again.Delete



AnonymousNovember 22, 2022 at 10:20 AM

Now that I know what 'pip' means, it DOES make a lot more sense. I can't promise to stop using 'vip' though.Delete


Reply


KolbeAugust 31, 2022 at 7:59 AM

PS. Not being overly critical with my comment. Enjoyed stumbling across this today. I loved T.C. and the gang back in the day.

Allagash the goat baby arrives!

So begins another spring.

Two cats are on the Titanic minutes before the sinking (Cat memes)

One of my current favorite cat memes! I love the primitive animation, the way the same few memes are repeated and repeated - but in this case, the story line is much more original than all the "road trips", "failing your exams" and "going to the dentist" ones. Some of these creators actually have an imagination!

Luna crunching

Luna the Crunchy Cat has over 400,000 subscribers and often gets millions of views just for her crunching! But she deserves every bit of it. That adorable crunching sound and the way her fierce little nose wrinkles up (and her beautiful sultry eyes) can literally turn a bad day around.

Queen of Cheese? Theophilus the Great

 

I just tried to watch another YouTube video that GOT IT ALL WRONG. It celebrated the awful poetry of one William Topaz McGonagall, calling him the Worst Poet in History. But McG is not even close! I was going to post a comment on it and thought: ah shit, why bother? I'll do my own post on it. (They always get it wrong, don't they?) But McGonagall is certainly not alone in writing bad poetry. Even the so-called greats had their off moments.

I found a horrible Robert Frost poem in which a man pounds on his door of a snowy evening and asks if he can cut down all the lovely snow-sparkling pines on his property to sell as Christmas trees. And here Frost hums and haws over it, turns it over in his mind, thinking: well, here are the advantages in it; and hmmm, here are the disadvantages in it; and: AIIIIIEEEEEK! Cut down all your friggin' trees?? What are you thinking? I guess back then it must have seemed that there were trees enough, that they were endless, and just a crop to be managed like any other. But I was so upset at this point that I didn't even read to the end.

Discouraged, I threw away Christmas and widened my scope to include any old poetry that was sublimely bad, but it's hard to find truly awful stuff. I found articles quoting three or four weak lines in, say, Tennyson. Auden once used a bad adjective, and somebody found a pun in Shakespeare, comparing an orange to Seville (or was it servile?). Well, who gives a shit about that? I wanted bad, and I wasn't getting it.

Until.

Until I found. . . This. 

A Tragedy

Theophilus Marzials

Death!
Plop.

The barges down in the river flop.

Flop, plop.

Above, beneath.

From the slimy branches the grey drips drop,
As they scraggle black on the thin grey sky,
Where the black cloud rack-hackles drizzle and fly
To the oozy waters, that lounge and flop
On the black scrag piles, where the loose cords plop,
As the raw wind whines in the thin tree-top.

Plop, plop.

And scudding by

The boatmen call out hoy! and hey!
All is running water and sky,

And my head shrieks -- "Stop,"

And my heart shrieks -- "Die."

*          *          *          *          *
My thought is running out of my head;
My love is running out of my heart,
My soul runs after, and leaves me as dead,
For my life runs after to catch them -- and fled
They all are every one! -- and I stand, and start,
At the water that oozes up, plop and plop,
On the barges that flop
                              And dizzy me dead.
I might reel and drop.
                                                Plop.
                                                Dead.

And the shrill wind whines in the thin tree-top
                           Flop, plop.
*          *          *          *          *
A curse on him.
                            Ugh! yet I knew -- I knew --
If a woman is false can a friend be true?
It was only a lie from beginning to end --

My Devil -- My "Friend"

I had trusted the whole of my living to!

Ugh; and I knew!

Ugh!

So what do I care,

And my head is empty as air --

I can do,

I can dare,

(Plop, plop

The barges flop

Drip drop.)

I can dare! I can dare!

And let myself all run away with my head
And stop.

Drop.

Dead.

Plop, flop.

                                              Plop.

---

                                        [-- from The Gallery of Pigeons (1874) ]

As if this bounty weren't enough, I found these little notes attached to an article about him, claiming that Marzials, not McGonagall, was the worst poet in the English language:

"Theo Marzials, the last of the Victorian aesthetes, who lived on in rural retirement, addicted to beetroot and chlorodyne (morphia, chloroform and prussic acid), for two decades after the world thought him dead. In the 1870s, as a young man with long hair, flowing moustaches and a silk bow tie over his lapels, he worked at the British Museum. According to Max Beerbohm, the great Panizzi himself, founder of the round Reading Room, was one day surprised to hear a shrill voice crying from the gallery: "Am I or am I not the darling of the Reading Room?"

. . .  Marzials almost outlived danger. "On the last occasion when I happened to catch sight of him, looking into a case of stuffed birds at South Kensington Museum, he had eaten five large chocolate creams in the space of two minutes," wrote Ford in 1911. "He had a career tragic in the extreme and, as I believe, is now dead." But he wasn't. He was living in a farmhouse room in Colyton, Devon. The bed, occupied day and night, had a saucer of sliced beetroot beside it, the smell of which mingled with the fumes of chlorodyne, the smoke of an oil lamp and the steam of a stockpot perpetually simmering on the
stove."

This is disjointed as hell because I've edited 300 or so words out of it, so who knows who "Ford" is, but then again, who cares? The important thing is that I have found a truly horrendous, a harrowingly bad poet, and this opens the door to all sorts of posts about him. Or not. Depends if I can find anything else. Oh, here's one -

The Ghost of Love

by: Theophilus Marzials (1850-1920)

The wan witch at the creepy midnight hour,
When the wild moon was flying to its full,
Went huddling round a damned convent's tower,
From out the crumbling slabs or tombs to pull
Some lecherous leaf or shrieking mandrake-flower.
Beneath she heard the dead men's voices dull;
Around she felt the cold souls creep and cower;
In hand she held a grinning damned's skull!

Then through the ruin'd cloisters, strangely white,
T'wards the struck moon, all swathed in colod grave-bands,
She saw dead Love wringing his hollow hands,
And gliding grimmer than a dank tomb-light.

And with a shriek she rush'd across his path--
And now the hell-worm all her body hath!

The problem with this one is, as Zero Mostel says to Gene Wilder in The Producers: "Nah, it's too good." In fact it's neither good nor bad, and is as purple as most Victorian stuff was. But it strikes me as bargain basement Gerard Manley Hopkins, and even a pale photocopy of Hopkins has a certain power behind it.

I don't know what "colod grave-bands" are, but maybe they played gigs at the cemetary. Were they people of "colo"? We'll never know. (Could be a typo, also.) So even at being the worst, Marzials wasn't the best. Or the other way around.

MARZIALS DISH. This was all I could find about his sex life, and it came from Wikipedia so it MUST be true:

"The relationship between Marzials and fellow author Edmund Gosse is debated, with some claims that their relationship was more than platonic."

But wait, there's more. . . a truly cheesy poem!

We have seen the Queen of cheese,

Laying quietly at your ease,

Gently fanned by evening breeze --

Thy fair form no flies dare seize.

All gaily dressed soon you'll go

To the great Provincial Show,

To be admired by many a beau

In the city of Toronto.

Cows numerous as a swarm of bees --

Or as the leaves upon the trees --

It did require to make thee please,

And stand unrivalled Queen of Cheese.

May you not receive a scar as

We have heard that Mr. Harris

Intends to send you off as far as

The great World's show at Paris.

Of the youth -- beware of these --

For some of them might rudely squeeze

And bite your cheek; then songs or glees

We could not sing o' Queen of Cheese.

We'rt thou suspended from baloon,

You'd cast a shade, even at noon;

Folks would think it was the moon

About to fall and crush them soon.

James McIntyre

I don't know what to say.