Poetry Pavilion II

Image

The following is a homemade poem of acclaim and recognition, hand-crafted, and presented to me some years ago for my birthday.  Since I managed to do it again, for the 81st time, I thought I’d brush off the dust and cobwebs, and publish it again.  Once a King – Always a King.  Once a Knight is enough.

Tale of the Great Northern Knight

He loosened his pants and girded his loins

For battle he did prepare

He grabbed up his sword and mounted his horse

To defend his queen so fair

Whilst traveling through the land of Kitchener

He gave no heed to danger

For he had the gift of words and prose

And never met a stranger

His fated path crossed Ranty Knight

To which he doth did hail

Archon rambled on and on

(and on)

A great and many tale

Though humble and honest the Knight did speak

‘Twas the day of his creation

Ranty cried out, “Awesomesauce Man!”

‘Tis cause for a great celebration

Pillage these wenches – steal all the bacon

‘Tap us a fine keg of ale

I’m of the order of a Free Thinking man

(which means, “Bet your ass we will”)

So feasts were brought forth, a rare coin for a gift

Ensuing tales about bravery

Archon was happy on this mighty fine day and

Ate a big bowl of taters n gravy

(with cheese curds on top)

****

Happy Birthday Archon!! I hope you are surrounded by all the people you love tomorrow. (I love ya, too Grumpy Dude)

 

Thank you for being my friend and sharing all your wonderful tales. You are very kind and one of the most honest and intelligent people in blogtown.

 

Love,

Whitelady

I’m Rarely This Happy

Image

WOW!!  I found two uncommon and interesting names on one drive home from the store.

After I followed the butthole of America, I passed a small work-truck that said INGOD Basement Restoration and Construction.

At first, I thought it might be English, and mean exactly what it said, or an Estonian name that means ‘left-handed,’ but research reveals that it’s a Romance-language-based name from the word ‘ingo,’ which means male ruler.  In Spanish, the male given name gained an I, and became Inigo.

My name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my Father.  Prepare to die!

Image

Closer to home, we followed a Sorrento, almost identical to mine, but from a dealership a hundred miles to the East, named Bessada KIA.  Spelled with one S, besada is an Egyptian word that means Arrakian sand-worm.  With two SS’es, Bessada is not merely Portuguese, but Brazilian Portuguese, and means ‘kissed.’

Eso beso

’24 A To Z Challenge – E

Image

Image

I don’t mean to poke you, or put too fine a point on it but, the épée, also rendered as epee in English, is the largest and heaviest of the three weapons used in the sport of fencing.  The blade of a standard adult epee is 35 inches (.899 m, for those who wish to get stabbed in metric) – 4 inches shorter than my rapier – and that’s not a sexting joke.
Image

All evasion and egotistic self-promotion aside, I wish to present you with a lovely word, well past its prime, and rendered technologically obsolete

EPOPEE

Epic literature, particularly poetry – from the French – ėpopėe

In the classical past, they needed a word to describe the likes of War and Peace, a 900-page Russian saga whose first 150 pages are just the cast of characters, and their blood and married relationships to each other.  It represents an epic poem titled, Casablanca, which begins, “The boy stood on the burning deck.”  Some discussion occurred among scholars, about whether it represented faith and loyalty, or was a critique of blind obedience to social norms and morės.

It epitomizes the least favorite piece of literature that I ever studied, the poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, a grueling gauntlet of words, stretching over 145 stanzas, 7 chapters, and 19 pages – all to showcase the loneliness, and aloneness of long-voyage sailors.

People had the time to write these sagas, and read them, and discuss them.    All that changed when the Bluescreenitis plague ravaged the world, reducing intellect and attention spans to nil, and short-span Tik-Tok videos, and Instagram posts of a plateful of pork and beans became the norm.   😮

Family Fibbing Friday

Image

Familiar, or maybe not so familiar, phrases from Pensitivity101 last week.
What are your interpretations for these?

  1. “A few sandwiches short of a picnic”
    I came home to find that the wife had laid out a lovely lunch for me. How was I to know the food was for her Ladies’ Group park brunch?

    2. “Bagsy”
    A chicken in every pot…. and some pot in every chick. Marijuana dispensaries in every strip-mall, is still better than the methadone clinics.  A better class of clientele.  One of the customers asked me, “Spare a pound, mate?”  I told him that I only had big bills, so he asked for one of those.  I gave him the one from the electric supplier.

    3. “Bog-standard”
    Acidic water in bogs actually causes small lumps of cold iron to precipitate out, which can be forged into knives and swords that elves are allergic to.  So, if you’re racist against elves, live near a swamp.

    4. “Budge up”
    The tube cars are already so crowded that Weird Al Yankovic says Another One Rides the Bus.  If you died right now, you couldn’t fall down, till Piccadilly Station.  You can only hope that the hand you feel near your crotch is simply trying to steal your wallet – and some yob in a transit uniform says “Make room please”  Not and still breathe!  Perhaps I could just fax myself to the office.  Whatever happened to “Work From Home??”

    5. “Chinwag”
    A blind man and his guide dog were waiting for a bus, when the dog lifted his leg and peed on the man’s pant leg.  A bystander saw it happen.  The blind man reached into his pocket and gave the dog a treat.  The watcher was appalled.  “Why would you give your dog a treat, when he peed on you??!”  ‘I’m just trying to figure out where his head is, so I can kick his ass!”

    6. “Faff”
    You’ll have to forgive me for not having an interesting/amusing response to this one.  I really meant to research it, but I played a few games of Mahjong…. then I researched the language and meaning of the surname Kense…. and then I fell down a YouTube rabbit hole, watching idiots at work.  I promise to do better next time.  Faff Trump and his Presidential campaign!

    7. “Full Monty” was the English breakfast that Field Marshal Montgomery was served at Alamein.

    8. “Give me a tinkle on the blower”
    I cheered when my room-mate bought an expensive stereo, but he only played either rap music, or Taylor Swift.  I demanded asked him nicely several times to stop, but I don’t have to ask anymore, at least for a while.  Suddenly last week, his high-quality Quadra-Phonic speakers stopped working, and they have a strange smell.  I blame the dog.

    9. “On it like a car bonnet”
    Image
    That’s how the darling little Minis are decorated, to appear in the Gay Pride parade.

    10. “Tickety-boo” – is a paper cut that you get from a bingo card.
    Know how to get a 70 year-old, church-going lady to yell, “FUCK”?
    Let another one yell Bingo first.  It’s a rough game.

Image

Shakespoodle’s Fibbing Friday

Image

Pensitivity101 is no Shakespeare but wanted to know how we would use/continue these famous lines.

1. What light through yonder window breaks?
‘Tis the little footie-fiend who lives next door.  He’ll not get his ball back till his Father replaces the pane.

2. Alas, poor Yorick………………..
He maketh a Polish joke.  He canst not help it.  He is a Polish joke.  Now cancelled he be.  ‘Tis better than drawn and quartered.

3. Romeo, Aromeo, wherefore art thou Aromeo?
When I had told thee to hit the showers, I meaneth it literally.  Tybalt’s blood upon thy doublet doth begin to reek.

4. To be, or not to be…………………….
I know not, for my fair wife hath not yet told me.  She being engrossed, helping Lady Macbeth evict a stray dog which encamped in the castle.  Out! Out! Damned Spot.

5. All the World’s a stage……………………
And I wish to spend a penny (No! No! Not like that  😮 ) to view Love’s Labour’s Lost at the Globe, and take my mind off all this Woke/Cancel Culture crappeth.

6. All that glisters…………
will be eased with the application of a hot mustard plaster.

7. Give every man thy ear……………
That they may eat of roasted corn on this festive Day of Thanksgiving.

8. Neither a borrower nor a lender be……..
But draw outrageous fortune by being a crony at the Central Bank, and regulate what we must be.

9. Many a true word…………
is conspicuously absent, when politicians joust.

10. Do not swear by the moon……………..
Swear by the moonshine.  A tankard of that will enlarge thy profanity quotient.

Image

Off The Straight And Narrow

Image

The wife has been missing fried catfish and biscuits at Cracker Barrel restaurants.  Between COVID and finances, we haven’t been to the Excited States for over five years.  On our Ohio trip to rescue John Erickson from terminal ennui, I scheduled a stop at a Cracker Barrel in Erie PA, at approximately the halfway point, for lunch and a butt-break.

Enjoying one of these little scones is like biting into a tasty, buttery cloud.  We ordered a dozen to take with us, but our waitress only brought two more free ones in a to-go bag.  In the entire trip down, I didn’t make a wrong turn or get lost once…. Unless you count the little kerfuffle/confusion as we arrived.

With ten rescue cats in the house, and as many feral ones begging for food and water at the back door, our hosts’ kitchen is somewhat overwhelmed with bags of kitty litter, sacks of dry kibble, cases of cans of cat food, feeding dishes, and water bowls.  It is not set up to cook food, or provide eating area for guests.  We dined out each evening.

They drove out to meet us, and suggested that we join them at a McDonalds, one exit up the highway.  I misunderstood, and drove right past them to our motel.  No Problem!  They quickly followed us, and the first night we ate at an Arby’s that was unanimously agreed to be a better choice than the Golden Arches.

The next evening, she navigated us to a Mexican restaurant in the big city (? 11,000) named Fiesta Tlaquepaque.  My eyeballs crossed, and my tongue got whiplash.  Bing, Google Translate, and dictionary.com all insist that the name/word is Spanish.  It is used by a certain group of people who speak Spanish – mostly Mexicans.  It is Nahuatl, an Aztec word, which means ‘flowered walkway’ – like a bower – with a tiled floor.

The third night, we drove them down to a Cracker Barrel in Cambridge, Ohio.  John doesn’t remember ever being to one.  He loved the filling, inexpensive, home-style food, and was entranced by the tourist-trap retail maze with clothing, toys, candy, games, jams and jellies, which must be navigated, both coming and going.

I wanted to claim that we didn’t go anywhere, or do anything, but that we all enjoyed ourselves immensely.  I mean, they don’t exactly reside in a cultural center.  The closest thing to a tourist attraction would be the biggest pile of manure, outside the State capital, or the longest Amish beard.

The first afternoon, John’s wife drove my wife to a large fabric/sewing/ knitting warehouse, while John showed me all his WW I/WW II rifles, bayonets and swords, which he has used in historical re-enactments.  I retaliated by showing him some of my excess knives,  and a catalogue of coins and bills of the world.

The next day, she took the wife and I out for a cliff-clinging, nail-biting drive in the country, which ended at an Amish general store.  Their book section included two books about the Ark Encounter theme park in Kentucky.  The little ‘Understanding Islam’ book got tossed on the We Can’t Sell It – A Buck Apiece table.

I scheduled our visit for a Monday and Tuesday.  The nearby craft brewery where I hoped to buy some artisanal beer, is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays.  If we ever elect to do this again – and we’re being strongly propositioned – John assures me that there are several other such breweries within driving distance, which he can send me links to.

Including one serious got lost, on the way home, we traveled 1795 Km/1122 miles, and spent about $210 Canadian, on gas.  We all enjoyed ourselves, and got to know each other much better, and I got four blog-posts out of it.  Thanx for coming along for the ride.  😀

’22 A To Z Challenge – S

ImageImage

Of all my relations, I still like sex the best.  😉

Two vaguely-related prompts, equal one mediocre post.

I again, recently ran into some archaic words. Smite means to strike, to hit, to afflict or attack.  It’s a present-tense verb.  The past-tense form is smote.  They were both in common usage around 1600 AD, when the King James Bible was composed.
The Israelites did smite the Midianites.
Peter drew his sword and smote the chief priest’s slave
.

There was a lot of smiting and smoting going on back then.  We’ve come a long way since then – perhaps too far.  Now we’re not even supposed to raise our voice, or say anything that might offend or distress someone.

The first word that I snaked out of the S-word file was their relation/relative, the word

SMITTEN

The other two words are verbs, portraying actions performed.  Smitten is an adjective that describes the situation that results from these actions.  The slave, whose ear Peter lopped off, was smitten by the sword.

The two verbs toddled off into linguistic obscurity in the Archaic Dictionary about 400 years ago.  Smitten avoided this fate with a little soft-shoe shuffle and a quick two-step.  It is used, even today, because it evolved its meaning from the actual, physical, to the more allegorical, and mental, and tends to be accompanied by the word with.
She was smitten with the bad-boy biker dude.
He was smitten with the sleek, fast, Tesla sport model.
The entire family was smitten with COVID 19
.

Relatively speaking, the relation I next noticed, was the up-and-coming verb form of

SANDBAG

I prefer the British term ‘cosh,’ which is a blackjack, or bludgeon.  A sport sock, with the toe filled with damp sand, smartly applied  to someone’s head, just above the ear, generally guarantees a half an hour of unconsciousness. (a raging headache, possible fractured skull, concussion, loss of memory, etc.)

The recent business and social usage of ‘sandbag,’ which is becoming as common and as irksome as ‘woke,’ is to thwart or cause to fail or be rejected, especially surreptitiously or without warning – scam, con, or flim-flam.  (There’s an old term, making a comeback because of sandbag)

English is a constantly-changing, fluid language, but sometimes I get the feeling that we’re just being sold down the river.  In a couple of days, I will plainly state some of the problems of getting old, and demonstrate the difference between ‘Bitching’ and ‘Whining.’  Bitching is clearly saying I hurt, Damnit!  Whining is more, Whaaa.  I’m a little sore and I need to lie down.  I teach that in my Grumpy101 Course, at the local Community College.  You guys got it for free.  😉

Son Of A Gun

Image

Or in this case, a grandson.  In an attempt to dilute and disperse my fanatical, homicidal, antisocial obsession with possessing dangerous weapons, he has already given me a

Image

Sacrificial Stone Dagger
We’ll call it a Scottish letter opener.

And a

Image
Image
Gorgeous rapier
We’ll call it shiny, sharp and pointy.

The United States has recently endured several domestic terrorism attacks, where assault-type weapons have been used to murder numbers of people.  In an attempt to look like they’re doing something – anything – more of the wrong thing, and solving someone else’s problem, the Canadian Federal Government has passed legislation that further tightens gun-control laws that are already some of the most restrictive in the world.  At least temporarily, the purchase, sale, or transfer of legally-owned handguns has been suspended.

Unlike Hercules, the grandson cannot cut the Gordian Knot of bureaucracy, and present me with a Government-authorized pistol.  Ingenious little devil he, he has found a way to tap-dance past the restrictions.  It is legally permitted to hire the services of a licensed gun-shop/shooting range owner, who will provide supervision and safety instruction, and temporarily lend and allow me to fire, five of my favorite handguns.

A sixth, my more favorite, the Berretta Model 92, is not included in the offering.  I plan to (reluctantly) ask if it is possible to substitute it for one on their menu.  Being Canadian, I have only fired two hand-guns in my life – a Police .38 Special, and a .32 caliber Spanish officer’s semi-automatic, a darling little thing with shiny stainless steel, and mother-of-pearl handles, suitable as a lady’s purse gun, or in the don’t ask – don’t tell brigade.

I received this I Am Impossible To Shop For package as a Fathers’ Day present.  The grandson and I, and the range owner, will negotiate a mutually acceptable Saturday, probably near my birthday in late September.  This is the most useless, but at the same time, the most treasured bucket list present that I have ever received.

I’m sure that some, make us feel safe at any cost, even if we’re not, Chicken Littles will want to know why I want to fire these dangerous guns.  As Willy Sutton said, when they asked him why he robbed banks – that’s where the money is.  Or George Mallory (not Edmund Hillary), when asked why he climbed Mount Everest – because it’s there!  I feel no need to justify this adventure but, that’s where the enjoyment is, and, because I can.

I will employ my hundreds of hours of gun safety training to ensure that I don’t shoot myself or anyone else.  With my worsening essential tremor, I won’t reveal target scores.  It will be enough just to keep flying lead between the range walls.  I will report later on this guys’ escapade.  You’ll know me by my goofy smile.

Image

We Don’t Speak Much English

Image

Oh, we all speak English.  Compulsive, competitive, conversationalists like me speak/write more than most – but, how many words are there in the English language?

Many people estimate that there are more than a million words in the English language. In fact, during a project looking at words in digitized books, researchers from Harvard University and Google in 2010 estimated a total of 1,022,000 words, and that the number would grow by several thousand each year. The Oxford English dictionary expands every year to keep up with new words that are invented to describe the world around us, or to include new meanings for words that already exist in English. A more useful number from the Oxford English Dictionary would be the 171,476 words that are in current use, and about 45,000 which are archaic, and are not used in modern English..

That’s still a lot of words, though, and doesn’t reflect the number of words that individual English speakers actually use. For that number, let’s look at a recent study by the people at testyourvocab.com who say that adult native-speakers of English have a vocabulary that ranges from the McJob-holder’s 5000-10,000, most people’s 20,000-35,000, and smarty-pants show-off word-jugglers like me, who keep 50,00 to 70,000 words in the air at all times.

Obviously, these are not the same words and everyone’s vocabulary will include different words, according to their career, education and interests.  Every line of work has its own specialized ‘Jargon.’  The language, especially the vocabulary, peculiar to a particular trade, profession, or group:  The word pneumothorax isn’t going to show up, except at a Reno convention of surgeons.

There are three key numbers to remember: more than a million total words, about 170,000 words in current use, and 20,000-30,000 words used by each individual person.  No matter how many each of us use – we don’t speak MUCH English.

Truth be told, there is no “English language.”  Other languages are cohesive and logical.  English is like the Lost and Found at an international airport.  It (kinda) started with Briton Celtic, then the Romans added Latin, and words they dragged in from Greek.  The Jutes, Angles, and Saxons moved in to rule the island, and brought lots of Germanic words, and more Latin from their Roman occupation.

The Vikings brought fire and sword, and Norse words with them.  Irish Gaelic, Scottish Gaelic and Welsh, had their way with the tongue, and then the French invaded, bringing lots more Latin-based terms.  The “English” language, and those who speak it, continue to drag back words everywhere, from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe – from Aleut to Zulu.

Many times the kidnapped words are not used as they were in the host language.  In English, we sing the little song, Frère Jacques as ‘Brother John,’ but ‘Jacques’ in French, does not mean Jack = John in English.  It means Jacob = James.  We should be singing about Brother Jim.

I started this post because I found the word, ”matutinal” – meaning: pertaining to or occurring in the morning; early in the day, From the French word, Matin = morning.  When the French have a matineé, it occurs in the morning.  When we have a matineé, it happens in the afternoon.

Words become part of the accepted English language, the same way immigrants become citizens of a country – by naturalization.  If it’s used often enough, and for long enough – it’s English.  Some words/phrases just aren’t used enough, or they remain trapped in some jargon, and never become naturalized.

Cri de Coeur and voir dire, are heard, but remain French.  Ad Populum, actus reus and mens rea, remain Latin.  Pizza and Pizzazz have become part of English, but the musical word, pizzicato, remains Italian.

Even though I might only employ 5% of the English vocabulary, I’m happy to have more than enough words to interest, entertain and amuse you.  There’ll be another random offering in a couple of days.  😀

Flash Fiction #262

ImagePHOTO PROMPT© Ted Strutz

CANON LAW

…. But the Contessa’s brother is left-handed – I showed that in chapter III, when I had him defend Uncle Auggie from that footpad.

She can’t approach the Duke, because I had her in Milan when the robbery occurred.

I could have Rodrigo, the valet, carry the message, but I’ve already showed that Duke Milburn refuses to converse with other noble’s servants.

Could my cook tell his cook?

Writing this historical fiction isn’t as easy as it seemed.  I should have put up that story-board when Bob suggested it.

Where’s a really good Deus ex Machina, when I truly need one?

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

Image