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Thanks ever so much to Bibliovixen for finding this lovely gem, Monty Python's Philospher's Drinking Song, on YouTube. Gawd, it's been a long time since I've heard this one. I knew a guy in high school who had this song memorized, as well as plenty of other hilarious Monty Python skits. That was my definition of cool when I was a teenager.
Happy New Year to one and all. Don't drink and drive, but drink and get as philosophical as you want!
Ok. This story is just too funny. Even I can't believe it's true.
In 2005 I wrote this post:
Well, last year I get an email from Robert F. Barsky, who is Professor of English, Comparative Literature, French and Jewish Studies at Vanderbilt University (The fact that someone with so much intellectual chops would contact me is pretty darn amusing in itself). Apparently Mr. Barsky (who is a Noam Chomsky expert, since he's friends with the guy and all) was writing a new book about Noam, called The Chomsky Effect: A Radical Works Beyond the Ivory Tower. Part of the book deals with Chomsky's popular appeal – the fact that people outside of the 'Ivory Tower' are also talking about this outspoken political dissenter. So Mr. Barsky thought that my silly post about Noam would be perfect for the book, and asked if he could use it in one of his chapters (it's actually in Chapter 1 on page 4).
I got a copy of the book last week. It's 381 pages, hardbound, and chock full of great material about Noam. And it's published by MIT Press. And my writing and art is in it. I even get listed in the index at the back. So...even though it's my husband Guy who is the real Noam aficionado; Guy – who taught me everything I need to know about Chomksy, and who thinks Noam is an intellectual God – it's me, the smart-ass cartoonist and writer of all things light and fluffy who gets into an academic book about Noam Chomsky published by MIT Press. Thankfully Guy can see the humour in it as well. And I think he thinks it's kind of cool, too. (I think. I mean – he hasn't strangled me yet). Of course what's really embarrassing is that I never did another 'I'm Drawn To You' post after the Noam drawing! But I promise that will change, since I have now been shamed into doing more sketches, having got that post printed in a book and all.
So there you have it. Read it and laugh (or weep at the utter irony of it all). I'm sure though, that this will be the first and last time that I ever get published by MIT Press. That is, of course, unless they start publishing kid's books. Stranger things have certainly happened, haven't they?
Here's another quirky fun new category to start the soon-to-be new year off right! I recently purchased a hilarious book called Bizarre Books: A Compendium of Classic Oddities, by Russell Ash and Brian Lake. These two fellows are in the business of buying books, and with forty-plus years' joint experience, they certainly have come across some very unique titles. If you're interested, here's an interview with these two book-lovin' gents.
So every now and then I will post a title from their quirky book collection. Of course I must start off with the chapter on Double Entendre titles – how could I not? Just a quick reminder: yes, these are real titles from real books!
And so I give you the first title in this new series:
Games You Can Play with Your Pussy
Ira Alterman
Waterdown, Mass,: Ivory Tower Pub. Co.,
1985
No, she's not speaking to the dead. But Good Granny/Bad Granny did get a positive review in of all places, CM Magazine! For those not in the know, CM Magazine is a publication which reviews books and other types of media which would be of interest to teachers, librarians, parents and kids. So yeah, usually the books are geared towards kids and young adults. But for whatever reason, the reviewer of GG/BG thought the book worthy of their publication, with the suggestion that perhaps it could "be used by teachers as a model for student writing activities." Cool!
The best line in the whole review though, is the final line, written in bold: Recommended with reservations. So watch out, kiddies! This book could be a bad influence! Bwahahahaha!!
The last silly poem of the year! How silly is that? So's I figured I should end with a poem about books and reading (even though lately this silly blog doesn't deal nearly enough with the subject of books, in spite of it's title).
Now I know that Mr. Philip Larkin would probably not consider himself a silly poet, but his poem A Study of Reading Habits sure sounds kind of silly to me! (And of course, very clever, too).
A Study of Reading Habits
When getting my nose in a book
Cured most things short of school,
It was worth ruining my eyes
To know I could still keep cool,
And deal out the old right hook
To dirty dogs twice my size.
Later, with inch-thick specs,
Evil was just my lark:
Me and my coat and fangs
Had ripping times in the dark.
The women I clubbed with sex!
I broke them up like meringues.
Don't read much now: the dude
Who lets the girl down before
The hero arrives, the chap
Who's yellow and keeps the store
Seem far too familiar. Get stewed:
Books are a load of crap.
This wonderful cartoon was created by the brilliant David Levine.
You know, when I got married 13 years ago and repeated those vows, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, I probably should have got the minister to tack on the phrase, no matter how many goddam things your husband breaks in the house, 'til death do you part (or until maybe I kill him?)
I have no one to blame but myself, really. Because I walked into this marriage fully forewarned. Not long after meeting Guy all those years ago, in a big booming voice he happily declared to me, "I'm a stumblebum!" And since that day, he has not let me down. In the many years that we have been together he has broken lamps, picture frames, glasses, plates, bowls, mugs and (sigh) numerous precious nicknacks. Handmade objects. Lovely gifts. And yes, pretty Christmas decorations. Yup. He broke another one today. I know he does not mean to, but it still sends me over the edge, because though I am not a very girly-girl, I do like a little bit of decorative stuff around the house, especially during the Holidays.
But a heart can be broken, too, and in the big scheme of the things, flipping out over a broken decorative glass candle is pretty petty, especially when a pair of big sad blue eyes are looking at you with such remorse. Yet again. Stuff can always be replaced. But nothing can ever replace my big burly bull in the china shoppe. Some things are unbreakable, like my love for him.
But perhaps I should look into rubber nicknacks in the future, all the same.
And a joyous, prosperous New Year!
Meow!
As busy as I am with work and shopping and cleaning and cooking, I couldn't forget Silly Poetry Friday now, could I, silly one? Especially since it's the last Silly Poetry Friday before Christmas! And so of course, I have to share with you a silly Christmas poem! This poem is actually a very silly song, and you are very fortunate that I found a link so you can hear it while you read it! Aren't you a lucky silly one? Think of this as my silly Christmas present to you!
So do you know what silly Christmas song I picked? Does anyone know the song I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas? It's so very silly, I just love it. The song is written by John Coctoasten and sung by Gayla Peevey. Here's the poem below, and you MUST check out this video with the original song, performed by some crazy, adorable guy. It's hilarious!
I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas
I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
Only a hippopotamus will do
Don't want a doll, no dinky Tinker Toy
I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy
I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
I don't think Santa Claus will mind, do you?
He won't have to use our dirty chimney flue
Just bring him through the front door, that's the easy thing to do
I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs
Oh what joy and what surprise when I open up my eyes
To see a hippo hero standing there
I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
Only a hippopotamus will do
No crocodiles, no rhinoceroses
I only like hippopotamuses
And hippopotamuses like me too
Mom says the hippo would eat me up, but then
Teacher says a hippo is a vegeterian
There's lots of room for him in our two-car garage
I'd feed him there and wash him there and give him his massage
I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs
Oh what joy and what surprise when I open up my eyes
To see a hippo hero standing there
I want a hippopotamus for Christmas
Only a hippopotamus will do
No crocodiles or rhinoceroseses
I only like hippopotamuseses
And hippopotamuses like me too!
If you were one of the people hit by yesterday's amazing snow storm, then right about now you might be craving a place that is not covered in fluffy white stuff. Well! I just happen to have the perfect remedy for your winter blahs. My mom's been scanning some old slides from Jamaica, and I managed to get copies. Perhaps some Jamaican photos will lift your spirits!
Not sure who this lady is – a friend of the family I guess, visiting another family member's home.
My Aunt Eleanor (holding the swimming tube) visiting her sister's home.
This is the house my mom grew up in.
And this is my mom, with some lovely gerberas in the the background. These flowers grew in the garden in front of their house.
There! Feel better now? ;)
In light of yesterday's news about our former PM Brian Mulroney finally (snort) setting the record straight on that large amount of cash he took from Karlheinz Schreiber all those years ago, I thought it only fitting that today's silly poem pay homage to that honoured role of leader for our very silly country. Sorry, it's another one of those silly poems that I wrote myself. But at least I am owning up to that fact now, rather than say, ten years from now, and there's no splitting hairs concerning my responsibility in this silly poem writing matter. So here it is. Enjoy!
MY CAREER
Boots and mitts and hats and coats
Are for the birds and billy goats.
Cream of wheat and oats and bran
Look better in a garbage can.
Bathtubs, water, combs and soap
Are used by nincompoops and dopes.
School and chores are just plain sinister –
Can't wait until I'm Prime Minister.
