◊(Local Yarn Code "Check-in [2fefe8bc]")

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2003-01-21")
◊(define-meta series "journal")

◊caps{JIPW} arrives back on the air, after a nearly two-year absence. Simplify and improve: those
are the watchwords, friends. This site now loads more quickly and makes better use of the screen.
Away with PHP and JavaScripts! Away with excessive graphics and pretentious layout! Let there be
ASCII!

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2003 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2003-03-10")

If you had told me a month ago that I would actually rather starve than cook a meal for myself,
I would not have believed you. But having been plunged into a life of bachelorly self-sufficiency,
I find that it is not that hard to get from not liking cooking to simply skipping the meal
altogether.

It goes like this. I come home from work and go upstairs. Now, I might like a nice meal, I say to
myself. (If I were normal I would merely think it to myself, but more often than not I end up saying
it aloud.) But, what should I eat? I immediately consider the path of reasoning that leads to the
most desirable end: a hot, tasty meal. However, a number of obstacles immediately leap out from
behind my visionary steaming casseroles and boiled vegetables. It takes too long; I’d rather not do
that many dishes afterwards; I have hardly anything in the cupboard because I’m too cheap to buy
things I know I’ll never cook anyway; and most of all, I hate cooking.

So much for that idea. But now, I’ve got to have something else. The only alternatives to cooking
are cereal and sandwiches. But I’ve just had a sandwich for lunch, and I’m starting to get sick of
having cereal. From this point it is only a trifling logical hop to thinking that, of course, the
simplest thing would be to just not eat. I’m not that hungry anyway (it’s always either that or I’m
more tired than I am hungry), and it would probably make the next meal taste better, and I would be
saving money anyway. So after a few links in a simple line of reasoning, I have arrived at such an
aberration of thought, that the Darwinians might despair of my genus being around for many more
generations.

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2003 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2003-03-29")

◊verse{One horse shot  
One rogue possum slain  
And one neighbors’ barn gone down in flames.}

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2003 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2003-02-10")

◊title{Art Fare for the Common Man}

◊caps{LET US} discuss the writing of poetry. Here is an excerpt from a woefully typical modern-day
poem:

◊verse[#:italic? #t]{
A card table in the library stands ready
To receive the puzzle which keeps never coming.
Daylight shines in or lamplight down
Upon the tense oasis of green felt.
Full of unfulfillment, life goes on,
Mirage arisen from time's trickling sands
Or fallen piecemeal into place:
German lesson, picnic, see-saw, walk
With the collie who 'did everything but talk' —
Sour windfalls of the orchard back of us.}

It is pieces like these that have pretty well killed popular taste for poetry. Those were the
opening lines from the aptly-titled ◊i{Lost in Translation} by James Merril, and they demonstrate very
well what is wrong with most contemporary efforts at English poetry: ◊strong{randomness}.

The ◊index[#:key "poetry!appeal of"]{appeal of poetry} lies in expressing an idea ◊em{within the
boundaries of some kind of pattern}, typically a rhyming or metrical pattern. To the degree that
a poem lacks at least one easily discernible pattern, it will fail to be engaging, entertaining, and
inspiring. The pattern forces the idea to be expressed efficiently and, may we say, musically:

◊verse[#:italic? #t]{
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
   Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.}

Both poems are vivid, and potentially full of implication; But where Merril’s poem prances awkwardly
from vagueness to vagueness, Fitzgerald gives us something to chew on, an idea made powerful by the
discipline of its rhyme and metre. Take note: We are not merely saying we prefer Fitzgerald to
Merril. We are differentiating between real poetry and fake poetry.

In modern poems such as Merril’s, random surreality carries the day, and is given the title of
Inspired Art. This trend is largely a feature of academia, a self-contained world where tasselled
charlatans write material for each other and turn up their noses at the real world. Even many who
call themselves ‘outsider’ artists achieve what fame they can by imitating their academic
counterparts. This is all fine and good, except that, by and large, all this uber-progressiveness is
edging out forms of poetry that require real creative ability, the ability to inspire the Common
Man.

Anyone with an ear towards the artistic community cannot fail to note how disparagingly they speak
of ‘public taste.’ Anything accessible and inspiring to the common man is hauled away in their wide
net of ‘mass-marketing.’ To be sure, there is a lot of cheap, unoriginal work out there, but it at
least does not make any claim of being more than what it is. What if a chef in a resturaunt should
cook a fine steak? Is he “pandering to the interests of the public,” merely because his creations
are both accepted and widely applauded? Should he abandon established forms and cook something that
tastes bad so he can claim to be ‘progressive’ and ‘modern’?

And so the fellow on the street, encountering a poem that only its author could possibly understand,
is told that this is Real Art, and is made to think that it is above him. Nothing could be further
from the truth; he really cannot understand it because it is below him. The author made no effort to
reach up towards the mind of You or Me, to crystallize his vague ideas in a way that would be even
understandable, let alone convincing. Proponents of things like this give very elaborate
explanations for why their work is so stiflingly self-absorbed, discontinuous, and random; but mark
our words: what they are really saying is, “We want to be hailed as geniuses without possessing the
talent or expending the effort.”

Again:

◊verse[#:italic? #t]{
Like thousands, I took just pride and more than just,
struck matches that brought my blood to a boil;
I memorized the tricks to set the river on fire—
somehow never wrote something to go back to.}

Lowell might have had something interesting to say in there somewhere, something to suggest that he
had something worth listening to, but we search in vain to find it. It combines the boredom of prose
with the awkwardness of bad poetry, and no one can stand to read much of it. But find a writer who
really can use English to its best effect, and the light shines in!

◊verse[#:italic? #t]{
In a theme where the thoughts have a pedant strut,
   In a changing quarrel of 'Ayes' and 'Noes'
In a starched procession of 'If' and 'But,'
   There is place and enough for the pains of prose;—
   But whenever a soft glance softer glows,
And the light-hours dance to the trysting-time,
   And the secret is told "that nobody knows,"
Then hey!—for the ripple of laughing rhyme!
        (—Austin Dobson.)}

We concern ourselves with English poetry, since that is more along our line of specialty, but any
reader can recall other areas of art, such as music and architecture, where the same problem
applies. Common man, do not believe all who call themselves Artists. The inner witness of the spirit
is the only test of art—which is as much as to say, Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder.

◊note[#:date "2015-03-08" #:disposition "* deprecated"]{
Ten years after posting this, my views on poetry had changed. In the ◊link['hcr]{Sep 2013 episode of
Howell Creek Radio}, I had this to say about the original article:

◊blockquote{For example, there’s this short essay on my website from 2003 called Art Fare For the
Common Man, in which 22-year old me basically argues (not very well, I now see) that “modern” poetry
— meaning pretty much anything after the 1800s that doesn’t rhyme — is all of poor quality because
modern poets don’t put enough effort into their poems to make them appeal to normal people on first
reading. 22-year old me believes this pretty strongly; 32-year old me finds all kinds of problems
with that essay.}

◊url['hcr]{http://howellcreekradio.com/episodes/the-field-and-the-fortress}

I tried to explain the substance of my new position in a chapter of ◊i{Noise of Creation} (‘0019.
Non-Imitation’):

◊blockquote{You asked me once about “modern poetry,” and whether I had any favourite modern poets,
and by some delightful mental process each of us understood modern to mean both “doesn’t rhyme” and
“written during my lifetime.”

Because of course “rhyming” is a traditional form, and one meaning of “modern” has to do with
departing from tradition.

I didn’t know how to explain modern poetry to you except to explain that novelty is the essence of
true communication… Whenever someone says something and you truly get it — when you hear it in your
head exactly the way they do — it is always unprecedented. It’s like seeing a new color, or tasting
a flavour you’ve never encountered. Tradition is the opposite of communication. Any tradition
becomes a coating in your mouth; and poets, being into real communication, have a positive need for
invention. ◊strong{At some point it becomes less a question of particular forms and structures, and more
a hunt for the taste of that chemical reaction on your tongue.}}}

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2011-12-11")

◊title{Changing Hands}

This is an idea for an art installation. 

Dozens of volunteers hold their arms up through closely-spaced holes in the floor of the room. You
cannot see any part of the volunteers except their arms, which appear to be growing out of the
floor. Each arm is sleeved in a different, random colour.

If not otherwise occupied, the arms sway from side to side, gently feeling around them.

A hundred-dollar bill is being passed from hand to hand all around the room.

Visitors to the installation may walk through the sea of arms.

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2011-09-27")

◊title{How to be Permanently Beloved as an Artist}

Produce writing, music, or artwork targeted at young children. Indulge in an atmosphere of optimism,
playfulness and innocent wonder. Inject adult sensibilities where appropriate.

Be sure to make friends with children who enjoy your work. Respond to their letters, pose for their
photographs, do them nice favours.

Spend an intermediate period of time out of the limelight while your original audience goes through
adolescence. This is your “naptime,” the siesta of your career – enjoy it while it lasts.

Enjoy a new wave of attention as the kids who grew up with your work rediscover it as adults. 

Enjoy making friends with more children, as parents begin introducing their little ones to your
work, only partly as an excuse to vicariously re-experience it for themselves.

Always use your powers for niceness.

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2011-12-16")

◊title{Jillette’s Wipeout Test}

◊blockquote{“If every trace of any single religion died out and nothing were passed on, it would
never be created exactly that way again. There might be some other nonsense in its place, but not
that exact nonsense. If all of science were wiped out, it would still be true and someone would find
a way to figure it all out again.”

◊footer{◊index[#:key "Jillette, Penn!book"]{Penn Jillette}, ◊link[1]{◊cite{God, No! Signs You May
Already Be an Atheist and Other Magical Tales}}◊fn[1]}}

We might call this the “◊index{wipeout test}”. It is true that no religion would pass it, and that
the laws of physical science probably would. But interestingly, this doesn’t actually say anything
about a religion’s value or truth. It just reflects that a religion is more purely◊fn[2] a product
of complex relationships between particular people.

I can illustrate this by applying the wipeout test to ◊index{Canadian Culture}, for example. If
every single trace of Canadian Culture died out and nothing were passed on, it would never come
back. This is because Canadian culture, like a religion, is the product of a complex history of the
interaction of millions of limited human perspectives and their relationships. This says nothing
about the value of Canadian culture. It doesn’t make sense to say that because of the wipeout test,
Canadian Culture is somehow “false”.

Of course, many religious people ◊em{would} prefer to think their religion and gods are
◊em{uniquely} knowable apart from the people that describe them. And of course this is what Jillette
is pushing back against. But I think maybe there are, or could be, things — contingent,
irreproducible things — stories, cultures, even gods — that are valuable to us, and help us
understand true things about ourselves, even though they would never survive Jillette’s test.

◊fndef[1]{Via ◊link[2]{kottke.org}} 
◊fndef[2]{Science, too, is, in large part, a product of complex relationships between humans.}
◊url[1]{https://books.google.com/books?id=KsI3sswEg14C&lpg=PR1&pg=PR1#v=onepage&f=false}
◊url[2]{https://kottke.org/11/12/exact-nonsense}

#lang pollen

◊(define-meta published "2018-11-17")

◊title{The Live Sparrow: Poetry & Translation}

From the little I have seen, I have hopes
that J. R. R. Tolkien’s soon-to-be published translation of Beowulf
may do the same thing for the Old English poem 
that Fitzgerald did for the Persian. 
For example, here’s Seamus Heaney’s 1999 translation:

◊verse{◊i{Fyrst forð gewát flota wæs on ýðum bát under beorg
beornas gearwe on stefn stigon — stréamas wundon,}

Time went by, the boat was on water, in close under the cliffs.
Men climbed eagerly up the gangplank, sand churned in surf…}

Tolkien does something much better with his version:

◊verse{On went the hours: on ocean afloat under cliff was their craft.
Now climb blithely brave man aboard;
breakers pounding ground the shingle.}

How much of this is Tolkien 
and how much is the original? 
At the time of this writing, we don’t have much to go off of◊fn[1],
and I know very little Old English, 
so I could be mistaken; 
but if Tolkien can look at, for example,
“stréamas wundon”
and derive, in English, the music of
“breakers pounding ground the shingle”, 
it seems reasonable to hope that the rest of the thing
will be real English poetry: 
that is, 
a living sparrow rather than a stuffed eagle.

◊fndef[1]{These lines are about half of ◊link[1]{the excerpt} that is currently all we have to go
on: a few lines Tolkien included in an introductory chapter to a 1940 edition of John R. Clark
Hall’s Beowulf translation. (Notably, Hall, too, took the poetic approach to translation we are
advocating here, and ◊link[2]{was criticized for it}.)}

◊url[1]{http://www.todaytranslations.com/blog/read-excerpt-tolkiens-beowulf-translation/}
◊url[2]{http://www.jstor.org/stable/3712638}

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2018-12-03")

◊verse{
luculent marbles
pain-lacquered panes tremolo
one nasal pluck-up}

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2015 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2015-09-01")

◊title{Pollen Targets}

I’ve been digging into Pollen. It’s early days yet, but it seems very promising. So I was surprised
and glad to see this happen today:

◊blockquote{◊link[1]{“New Pollen tutorial:} how to generate multiple outputs (e.g., HTML, plain text,
LaTeX, and PDF) from one source file.”

◊footer{Matthew Butterick (◊mono{@mbutterick}) in a now-deleted tweet}
◊url[1]{https://docs.racket-lang.org/pollen/fourth-tutorial.html}
}

I tweeted earlier today that this is probably the best web/writing news of the summer, if not the
year. Yes, that’s subjective. But anyhow, let me explain why I think it’s great.

For at least a few years now I’ve been trying to figure out how a good way to generate a web site
and a print-ready PDF book from the same source document (◊xref["future-proofing"]{because
reasons}). Before Pollen, the best route seemed to be: write the documents in ◊link[2]{Markdown},
and then use a tool like ◊link[3]{Pandoc} to convert that source to HTML and to PDF (via LaTeX).

◊url[2]{https://daringfireball.net/projects/markdown/basics}
◊url[3]{http://pandoc.org/}

The biggest problem is that Markdown is not actually great as a source format. Yes, it’s readable.
Markdown documents, being plain text, can have a good shelf life. But in practice it’s just not very
smart, and no one agrees on how to educate it. For example, suppose you want to specify a class for
an image, so that it floats right. Markdown doesn’t provide a way to do this. Some variants of it
have added support for it, but no one agrees on what syntax should be used. Whatever variant you
pick, you better hope that your whole toolchain supports it (in the future as well as now). Just
about every editor and processor and previewer out there supports their own 92% of what you need
from Markdown and they each pick a different 8% to leave out. As an author, you really have no
facility for doing things the way you’d like. Brett Terpstra has some ◊link[4]{good advice} for
coping with this, but it basically boils down to “keep your source documents as simple as possible
to avoid running afoul of incompatibilities.” I say boo to that.

◊url[4]{http://brettterpstra.com/2015/08/24/write-better-markdown/}

To use a graphics analogy, using Markdown as a source format for web and print is like creating art
as a GIF and then trying to upscale to SVG. Pollen offers a completely different way of doing
things:

◊ol{
◊item{You decide what kind of semantics your documents need.}
◊item{You design the markup your documents will use.}
◊item{You decide exactly what output that markup produces.}
}

Here’s an example excerpt of one of my documents in Pollen:

◊blockcode|{#lang pollen

◊(define-meta title "Two Voices in a Meadow")
◊(define-meta doc-publish-date "25/08/2015")
◊(define-meta author "Richard Wilbur")

◊margin-note{
In ◊hyperlink["http://www.english.illinois.edu/maps/poets/s_z/wilbur/
imageinterview.htm"]{an interview}, he said "the milkweed's speech is
indeed written in one of my voices and was used for the sister's funeral in
a genuine and appropriate way. But the other voice --- the 'slob' voice of
the stone, is also one of my voices."
}

◊verse{◊poem-heading{A Milkweed}
Anonymous as cherubs
Over the crib of God,
White seeds are floating
Out of my burst pod.
What power had I
Before I learned to yield?
Shatter me, great wind:
I shall possess the field.}

}|

The ◊code{◊"◊"tags} above are all functions I write. The ◊code{◊"◊"verse} tag is a good example of
an advantage of Pollen over Markdown, because Markdown has no facility for typesetting poetry (at
least, none for setting it differently than source code). For now I’ve defined my ◊code{◊"◊"verse}
tag to place its contents inside a ◊code{<pre class="verse">} tag which I can style with CSS.
Someday I might find or need a different way to structure poetry in HTML; if so, I can simply edit
the function and regenerate the site, without having to change the source documents at all. Another
good example is YouTube embeds. I could create a ◊code{◊"◊"video} tag that would take a YouTube ID
and use their latest embed code. When YouTube changes I can update my code to match, the tag remains
the same.

Pollen was compelling enough when HTML output was all it did. But as of today, you can specify
multiple targets for your documents, and code the output behavior for each. This means I could take
a bunch of files like the one above and generate a web page, and a book-ready PDF, and a plain-text
(dumbed down) Markdown version. If my requirements for any one of those target formats should ever
change, I simply edit my Pollen code. The document itself can remain unchanged.

There are other things you could do, too. With some programming and some text-to-speech facilities,
you could include ◊code{.mp3} files as a target, and auto-generate an RSS feed, thus making
everything you publish in written form into an automatic podcast as well.

With Pollen I finally have a tool I can use to publish to multiple formats where I have complete
control over both the source markup and the finished result in every format. Of course, you have to
learn LISP programming to make full use of it, which can be daunting, but I’m having fun doing so.

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2000-04-23")

◊title{Taming of the Tigger}

◊section{Dramatis Personae}

◊ul{
◊li{◊caps{Rabbit}, Archbishop of Canterbury}
◊li{◊caps{PIGLET}, Bishop of Ely}
◊li{◊caps{TIGGER}, Pistol}
◊li{◊caps{POOH}, Ensign}
◊li{◊caps{CHORUS}, Narrator}
}

◊section{Act I}

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["CHORUS"]{
Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story
That I may prompt them; and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit th’excuse of things
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear Rabbit,
Piglet, and Pooh toward Rabbit’s porch.
There is the playhouse now, there you must sit,
And thence to the forest shall we convey you safe.}
}

[Enter ◊caps{RABBIT}, ◊caps{PIGLET}, and ◊caps{POOH}]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
I’ll tell you, that self Lord Tigger is urged
That yesterday was like to have bounced against us
By zany hazard and unnatural humours
Which him constrain to bouncing acts,
Scambling, and unquiet time.}

◊say["PIGLET"]{But my lord, how shall we resist him now?}

◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
It must be thought on. If he bounce against us
We’re like to lose the better half of our possession:
For all the temporal lands and carrot gardens
Which by testament are given to us,
He would rend the harvest thereof in a twinkling
A ruin and unprofit.}

◊say["PIGLET"]{This would drink deep.}

◊say["RABBIT"]{’Twould drink the cup and all.}

◊say["PIGLET"]{But what prevention?}

◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
The courses of his youth promise no change.
Never came desolation in a flood
With such heady currents scouring all good,
Nor never features of landscape so soon lose their seat
As in the case of Sir Tigger.}

◊saylines["POOH"]{
He ne’er did harm that I heard of;
O pardon, since that a crooked figure may
In little place attest a million
Or, so says good Christopher Robin.◊fn[1]}

◊fndef[1]{The original, literal meaning is that “a nought or zero (a curved figure) is able to
signify a million (i.e., by converting 100,000 to 1,000,000).” —Craik. I use it in the sense that
Rabbit may be misjudging Tigger’s character. Pooh must attribute this logic to C. Robin to be
consistent with his own lack of arithmetical ability.}

◊saylines["PIGLET"]{
Hearest thou not these weighty things
That task our thoughts concerning Tigger?}

◊saylines["POOH"]{
The air, a chartered libertine, is still
And the mute silence lurketh in mine ears
For bunch of fusty fluff hath therein lodged
Some whiles since.}

◊saylines["PIGLET"]{
It must be so, for miracles are ceased,
And therefore we must needs admit the means
How Tigger shall be perfected.
Doth he incline to it or no?}

◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
He seems indifferent,
Or rather swaying the more upon our part;
For I will make an offer to him
As touching the Hundred Acre Wood
To hike and march a greater distance
Than ever did his predecessors depart withal
At the end of which, by my design
His bones, a woe, a sore complaint
He’ll drop his heart into the sink of fear!
Now we go, to bring our embassy
To this Tigger same.}

◊say["PIGLET"]{
We’ll wait upon you.}
}

[Exeunt]

◊section{Act II}

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["CHORUS"]{
Now entertain conjecture of a time
When creeping murmer and the poring fog
Fills the wide vessel of the Hundred-Acre-Wood.
The hum of frog and cricket stilly sounds
O now, who will look and behold
The pair of travelers in their pacing sad:
Pooh and Piglet at th’appointed time
Present themselve by the gazing trees.
The confident and over-lusty Rabbit
Does the low-rated Tigger play at dice
Proud of his planning and secure in soul,
Hastens impatiently, and poorly ruminates
The evening’s danger.}

◊saylines["POOH"]{
Cry bother, and chide this cripple, tardy-gaited mist
Who like a foul and ugly hag
Doth limp so tediously away:
A pity this, an approved waste
For honey bees cease their work in damp,
Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom:
The civil citizens kneading up honey
Lay down their burdens, whilst sad-eyed drones
Stand close together with surly hum.}

◊say["PIGLET"]{ Rabbit may show what outward courage he will, but I believe, as cold a day as ‘tis,
he could wish himself afore of a stoken hearth, and so I would he were and I by him at all
adventures, so we were quit here.}
}

[Enter ◊caps{RABBIT}]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
Now sits the fog fair, and we will away!
(Hushed) Here comes Lord Tigger; good friends, offer nothing here.}
}

[Enter ◊caps{TIGGER}]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["TIGGER"]{
Ah, an outing shall we have, and present leave!◊fn[2]
Holdfast is the only dog, my ducks,
The word is ‘pitch and play,’ yoke-fellows in arms
Let us to the Forest, like Tartar-squirrels, my boys!}

◊fndef[2]{I am loosly matching Tigger with ◊i{Henry V}’s Pistol. His lines loose some sensicality in
the conversion, but even the originals are obscure to any modern audience. If spoken in the proper
mood, the desired effect and meaning will be made somewhat clear.}

◊say["PIGLET"]{Prithee Tigger, stay; the damp is too cold, and for mine own part I have not a case
of lives. The humour of it is too cold, that is the very plain-song of it.}

◊say["TIGGER"]{Let floods o’erswell and fiends for food howl on!◊fn[3]}

◊fndef[3]{I.e., ‘We are going, come what may!’}

◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
Come, Piglet, imitate the action of the Tigger!
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood
Disguise small nature with hard favour’d rage;
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. The game’s afoot.
Follow your spirit, and upon this, Charge!}

◊say["TIGGER"]{On, on, on, on to the breach!}
}

[Exit ◊caps{TIGGER} — bounds off stage; ◊caps{RABBIT, POOH, PIGLET} hide behind some object;
◊caps{TIGGER} bounds back in search of them, but, seeking, finds them not]

◊dialogue{
◊say["TIGGER"]{The plain-song is most just, for humours do abound.}
}

[◊i{Continues seeking}]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
My lords, Sir Tigger, jealous of our absence
Seeks through the camp to find us.}

◊saylines["TIGGER"]{
Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?
Note have I within my bearing bones
That here my rendezvous is quite cut off.◊fn[4]
Well, home I’ll turn, this hunt resign
To suck, to suck, the very Extract of Malt to suck!}
}

◊fndef[4]{Tigger may suspect treachery, but this should not be emphasized. He is here, as in the
book, carefree and too shallow for much thoughts of conspiracy, not inclined to hold grudges.}

[Exit ◊caps{Tigger}]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
[Looking after ◊caps{TIGGER}]
I give you leave to depart, and if a merry meeting
May be wished, God prohibit it!
[Turning again to friends]
The game’s afoot! To the forest, and hearthside then,
Where ne’er from Borealis’ frosty soup arrive’d more happy men.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood
And teach them how to march, for we’ll flee this dewy flood.
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.}
}

[All exit stage right, reappear sometime later as though lost]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
As manhood shall compound, these phantom paths
Have got the voice in heaven for twistiness;
Fair and fortunate are we
That these our native pastures be
Else, being lost, naught but these boding trunks
Could we ever hope to see…
[Aside] They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
But bearlike I must fight the course.◊fn[5]}
}

◊fndef[5]{By this aside to the audience, Rabbit means us to believe that none of this is his fault.}

[All exit stage right and appear again in the same manner]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["POOH"]{
Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod;
But here is that selfsame sand-pit again.}

◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
Though ‘tis no wisdom to confess so much,
My directional sense is much enfeebled.}

◊saylines["POOH"]{
By our travels, late and circuitous, I this infer
That many paths having full reference
To one arrival may work contrariously
Without defeat; therefore, good Rabbit
Let us conversely search for this sand-pit
And thus come home in safe array,
Where before we sought the home and found th’other.◊fn[6]
If we with such just logic prepended
Cannot gain again guide our footsteps thither
Let us be worried, and our titles lose
All name of hardiness and policy.}

◊fndef[6]{Here, as in the original, Pooh suggests that if, when searching for home, they keep
finding the sand-pit, they should search for the sand-pit and thus they might find home.}

◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
You do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brainsickly of things. Prithee, peace!
I dare do all that may become a rabbit.
Who dares do more is none.}

◊saylines["PIGLET"]{
Defend your glove, my liege: therfore
Divide we our happy company into two,
Whereof take you twenty-pace from this spot
And thence, sand-pit seeking, return again.}

◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
What beast was’t then
That made you break this enterprise to me?
Come, I shall about it.}
}

[Exit ◊caps{Rabbit}. Long pause whiles they wait for him.]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["POOH"]{
By the white hand of a lady, let us be going,
That we find ourselves safe once more,
Secure at home and in good compass.}

◊saylines["PIGLET"]{
Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath,
For you must needs be out of all compass
In more acceptations of th’phrase than one.
Know you the predestinate path, of which Rabbit despaired?}

◊saylines["POOH"]{
Despair thy charm
That palterest us in a double sense:
But scaly vessels of stored-up honey
Hath rung the night’s yawning peal;
My gaping maw doth taste the sound of it
Tht once was drown’d by Rabbit’s voice.
All his senses have but human conditions.}

◊saylines["PIGLET"]{
Yeah, such an antic does not amount to a man,
And the gaffer says true “The empty vessel
Makes the greatest sound.”}

◊saylines["POOH"]{
It is now eleven o’clock. Let me see, by twelve,
We shall have us each three honeypots.
Come, shall we about it?}
}

[Exeunt]

◊section{Act III}

[Enter ◊caps{RABBIT}]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["RABBIT (cold, spooked)"]{
Is this a sand-pit which I see before me?
I’ve passed thee thrice, yet I see thee still!
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight, or art thou but
A picture of the mind, a false creation?
Thou marshals’t me the way that I am going.
It is this circular business which informs thus
To my mind. Now o’er the one-half world
Nature seems dead, and wicked sights abuse.
O Lord, think not upon the fault
I made in design against Sir Tigger,
For I have issued more contrite tears
Than his bouncing crimes would tally,
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all
Imploring pardon. Hark!}
}

[Noise off-stage]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
Peace, ‘Twas the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman
Which givest the sternest good-night.}
}

[Enter ◊caps{TIGGER}, bounces ◊caps{RABBIT} by jostling him in a stagey sort of way]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["TIGGER"]{
Permafoy! I have and do hold the only Rabbit,
As truly, but not as duly - as bird doth sing on bow;
Woulds’t thou have me fold up Parca’s fatal web?◊fn[7]}

◊fndef[7]{Latin, “few words,” part of the proverbial “few words are best.” Used elliptically by
Pistol in ◊i{Henry V}, 2.1.80.}

◊saylines["RABBIT"]{
Never did faithful pilgrim more rejoice
At the discovery of most dangerous distress
Than I do at this hour rejoice myself,
Prevented from an endless enterprise.}

◊saylines["TIGGER"]{
Pauca verba, there’s enough8. Go to,
A dinner shall we have, and present pay,
And friendship shall combine and brotherhood.
I shall live by Rabbit, and Rabbit shall live by me.
Is not this just? Give me thy hand.}
}

[Exeunt]

◊dialogue{
◊saylines["CHORUS"]{
Thus far, with rough and all unable pen
Our bending author hath persued the story
In little room confining as little men
Mangling by starts the full course of their glory.
Small time, but in that small most strangely lived
Though the world’s best garden he’d achieve
By unbouncing Tigger, Rabbit did not succeed,
But learned a lesson, though his soil fill with weeds,
Which here our stage hath shown; and for their sake
In your fair minds, let this acceptance take.}
}

◊i{Finis}

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2000 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2000-10-27")

◊verse[#:title "The Ride"]{
Half the creaking crickets ’twixt the poplars and the pine  
Own the frog their master yet they fear with him to dine.  
Wherefore the fear? The reason’s clear: the crickets have no spine.

Wild crows are always hungry for they hate all that they scour:  
Apples make them pucker and they think the grapes too sour.  
So with empty plates they crow ’till late, long past the supper hour.

The squirrel in the hollow has a mind that’s very shallow,  
His cheeks are very puffy, for he oft forgets to swallow;  
Ere autumn ends, he downs it then, and sleeps on leafy pillow.

Robbins every morning have to wrestle with a hassle:  
In the summer all their feathers scratch their throats like little thistles;  
Do these rusty-coloured feathers cause their early-morning whistle?  
Eh?}

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2000-03-13")

◊title{Those Empty Altoids Tins}

Without dwelling too much on the negative side, as is normally our tendency under our 68% Vitriol
Policy, we would address the issue of the popular ◊link[1]{Altoids peppermints}. It is a frustrating
thing that when purchasing Altoids, you are forced to pay for yet another little Altoid tin
canister. Whether it is true that this is because Callard and Bowser, a British company dating back
to 1780, desires to spite Americans in its own petty way for winning the War for Independence, we
cannot be sure; we are told that Altoids are available only in tins even for fellow consumers in the
U.K. So we do not lend any credence to this theory. We wish, though, that C&B would offer some
alternative packaging, such as burlap sacks for bulk buyers.

◊url[1]{https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Altoids}

The bottom line is that any regular Altoids ingester soon acquires a small mountain of little tins.
What is to be done with all these little metal boxes with the rounded edges? We have here compiled
a comprehensive list of 94 Ways to Use Empty Altoids Tins. Some are humorous, some almost practical,
others are just barely alive, but there are none of the obvious cop-out items which tend to creep
into lists like these (such as “Use it to think of 94 ways to use it, har har”).

Ahem.

◊ol{
◊li{Use them to catch the fat grease from your grill}

◊li{Kitchen and bathroom decorations}

◊li{Holds all that loose pocket change - increases jingling sound}

◊li{Tray for computer screws during an upgrade}

◊li{Line your garden with Altoid tins instead of bricks}

◊li{Archive old sales receipts}

◊li{Insert in soles of shoes to make yourself look taller}

◊li{Don’t attach blinking lights and leave them laying around suspiciously at airports. Attach
blinking lights and leave them suspiciously at other places, but not airports.}

◊li{You could, however, attach a little handle and check it as luggage on your next flight. The best
part comes in the claim area when the tiny Altoids suitcase comes down the chute…}

◊li{Target practice for gun owners}

◊li{Tape them together to create a suit of body armor}

◊li{People named “Al”: cover up the ◊caps{T-O-I-D-S} and use as a name badge}

◊li{Better yet, if your last name happens to be Altoids, tape it to your mailbox.}

◊li{Short-term piggy-banks — easy to open, 0% APY}

◊li{Makes for some good-looking ◊image-link["altoids-radio.gif"]{ham radio electronics}}

◊li{Punch holes in them, use for keeping insects and small animals such as hamsters}

◊li{Leave them on the street downtown and watch people foolishly pick them up and find that they are
empty. (Even better: glue them to the sidewalk.)}

◊li{Fill with plaster, fasten shut: hockey puck}

◊li{Return to your local grocery store for a nickel (your mileage may vary)}

◊li{Tie them to your fingers to help you remember things}

◊li{Test the theory of evolution: place two unmodified paper clips inside, and shake vigorously for
two billion years. See if they ever link together as a result of this process.}

◊li{Fill with hand lotion and carry it in your purse.}

◊li{Great candidates for subjects of modern surreal art (in fact, do any of these and take some
photos; you should have no problem obtaining grant money from the NEA)}

◊li{Insert in boxes of wrapped gifts; the added noise when shaking the present will confuse the
recipient as to what’s inside}

◊li{Tape to your dog’s tail for interesting effects when it wags}

◊li{Just married? Tie them to your car’s bumper instead of tired old Campbell’s soup cans}

◊li{About to get married? Drop on one knee and present the engagement ring to your girl in an
Altoids tin! [Turns out this has been done! See the Addendum.]}

◊li{Use as spacers for table or chair legs on very unlevel surfaces}

◊li{Has anyone tried seeing if they ◊link[2]{do anything nifty in a microwave}?}

◊url[2]{http://www.eskimo.com/~billb/weird/microexp.html}

◊li{Callard & Bowser would like to keep this a secret, but these little tins can actually hold M&M’s
too!}

◊li{If you’re camping and you catch a small animal such as a rabbit, fish or ferret, you can cook the
raw meat by putting pieces of it in Altoids tins and placing the tin in the glowing hot embers of
your campfire for awhile.}

◊li{When hiking through the forest, leave a trail of tins to prevent getting lost.}

◊li{Great for housing that ◊link[3]{tiny new web server}}

◊url[3]{http://web.archive.org/web/20060818015953/http://www-ccs.cs.umass.edu/~shri/iPic.html}

◊li{You could place a microphone inside an Altoids tin and use it for espionage; it is likely,
however, that the tin will be picked up and opened if seen.}

◊li{While it’s still full of mints, stick it inside your tennis shoes or gym bag to offset the
odor.}

◊li{Goldfish coffin}

◊li{Cry into them when you realize you’re paying almost 3 cents per mint.}

◊li{◊i{Such a simple tin; / It could surely inspire / many a haiku}}

◊li{Fill with emergency spare cash and tape securely behind your knee or under your arm}

◊li{Open the tin and look inside the lid: handy low-resolution travel mirror!}

◊li{Use as bookmarks in heavy volumes such as the Yellow Pages}

◊li{Stress reliever for the kind of people for whom those little spongy balls just aren’t enough}

◊li{Enhance your clarity of speech by placing an Altoid tin inside your mouth while you repeat
simple phrases}

◊li{Create your own checker board 2′ 8″ on a side (each location 4″ square) and use them as checker
pieces (use tins from cinnamon or wintergreen Altoids for the black pieces).}

◊li{Fill them with sand and stack them up to mitigate flooding}

◊li{Tie them together to create a wind chime}

◊li{Pop the tin into a scanner, scan it into your computer, fool around with it in an image program,
and ◊image-link["altoids-hilarious-im-dying.gif"]{put the results on your web site}.}

◊li{With the red and green colors, they are excellent Christmas ornaments.}

◊li{Find anagrams for “Altoids”: ◊caps{TAIL SOD, SO TIDAL, SODA TIL, IS A DOLT, SAD TOIL}, and
◊caps{SAIL DOT}}

◊li{Status symbol}

◊li{Put some wheels on them, fill with metal weights and have an Altoids Derby Race.}

◊li{Tie on the end of a long string to create a plumb line; you can hang it from the top of
a building to see if the building is tilted at all.}

◊li{◊image-link["altoids-camera.jpg"]{Carry case for the Pentax Optio S digital camera}}

◊li{Use them to store small condiments such as olives or chopped onions when you run out of
Tupperware}

◊li{Show that you support halitosis research by wearing one on your lapel}

◊li{Find anagrams for “Callard & Bowser”: ◊caps{A SCREWBALL ROD, BOLD EAR SCRAWL}, and
◊caps{LARS BE RAW COLD}.}

◊li{If you work at a bank drive-thru and for some reason those plastic tubes break or are lost, use
Altoids tins instead!}

◊li{Learn to juggle them and balance them on your chin for parties}

◊li{Altoids tins stay wrinkle free without ironing!}

◊li{Make the top halves of the tins into light switch and outlet cover plates}

◊li{Put it up to your ear: you can hear the sea!}

◊li{If, like many in my extended family, you accidentally lop off a finger in the workshop, keep it
in the tin until you get to the clinic.}

◊li{Makes excellent, durable roofing material}

◊li{Tape them to the back of your telephone handset to make it easier to rest it on your shoulder
while talking.}

◊li{Casually take the tin out of your pocket and look at the reflection in the lid to see if there’s
anyone suspicious behind you.}

◊li{Find out the depth of a cave pit or the height of a building by dropping the tin from the top
and counting the number of seconds until it hits the bottom. Like other physical objects on Earth,
the tin accelerates at 9.8 meters/sec/sec.}

◊li{Use it as a hopscotch thingie. It can even hold the chalk when you’re done.}

◊li{Ever notice those hip, tiny new backpack/purses? Take this fashion trend to its logical
conclusion and strap an Altoids tin to your back for those trips to the mall.}

◊li{Saw off one end and make a pocket protector}

◊li{FBI agents: instead of those little wallets, put your badge and ID inside an Altoids tin. Looks
great when you flash it at people for whose houses you have a search warrant.}

◊li{Hide them inside snowballs for an added punch}

◊li{If you’re shipwrecked and on a deserted island, why not send a message-in-an-Altoids-tin, rather
than a message-in-a-bottle?}

◊li{Or, use the underside of the lid to reflect the sun and signal to passing ships and airplanes.}

◊li{Create a weekly pill organizer: label seven Altoids tins with the days of the week.}

◊li{Bake muffins or other pastries in them! (Talking of which, has anyone explored the culinary
possibilities of the Altoids themselves?)}

◊li{Look for cultish insignia or other signs of conspiracies on the tin}

◊li{Punch holes through them and stick them on the spokes of your bicycle’s wheels}

◊li{Spook a friend by placing a tin under their sheets (this only works for very excitable people)}

◊li{Rumor has it that placing a pile of three or four on your electric meter will slow it down,
lowering your electric bill}

◊li{Sniff the leftover dust for a “high” almost as invigorating as that of Kool-Aid}

◊li{Fill them with ice, and place them in your pop cooler; they help keep the cans cold for longer
lengths of time and the cooler doesn’t get all full of water when the ice melts.}

◊li{Plus, if someone gets injured at the picnic, you can use them as ice packs to reduce swelling.}

◊li{If you filled them with something hot, such as Cream of Wheat, you could use them to warm your
feet on cold winter nights.}

◊li{Put them in the food-shelf bin at your grocery store. (Mean and cheap, you say? I don’t think
so! Look how handy they are!)}

◊li{If you attend a small church, have the ushers pass Altoid tins down the aisles instead of
offering plates}

◊li{They sure beat spoons for digging your way out of prison}

◊li{They won’t hold your sunglasses, but they work great for monocles}

◊li{Separate the top and bottom halves, tape them together on one of the short edges, and use as
a sleep blinder for bus and airplane trips.}

◊li{Use them to scratch off your lottery ticket (if you actually buy lottery tickets)}

◊li{Start your campfire by striking pieces of flint against it}

◊li{They make good phylacteries}

◊li{Use as a makeshift ruler (they are about 2.25″ by 3.75″)}

◊li{Make and sell doll furniture. And stay away from me.}

◊li{Walk around with them balanced on your head to improve your posture.}
}

◊note[#:date "2001-03-30"]{
Since the original issue of this finite set, our mercurial readers have submitted a number of supplementary suggestions and anecdotes regarding further uses of the indefatigable Altoids Tin.

◊newthought{Chris W. writes} with a suitably dubious and fairly obvious addition: “Cover up the ◊caps{-OIDS}
and mount it onto your keyboard creating an easy-access Alt key! With convenient storage unit!” Why
didn't I think of that? If only there was a brand called Ctrloids, we could make a keyboard all
those old Emacs users would just love.

◊newthought{Eclectus posted} another good idea to the message board: “We have a white board that was not
metallic, and we needed it to be able to stick magnets to it, so we superglued 81 altoids boxes to
the back to the board, making it quite useful, if not quite heavy.” Not to mention that it will now
float if you accicdentally drop it in a lake.

◊newthought{Shawn Rutledge, a} true hardware hacker, alerts us to the feat of his ◊link['pws]{power supply housed
in an Altoids tin}. 

◊url['pws]{http://web.archive.org/web/20010423034908/http://cx47646-a.phnx1.az.home.com:80/~ecloud/journal/altoids.html}

◊newthought{In another} message board post, Sugarboots responds to my query regarding Cooking with Altoids in
item 75: “I was on a Slim Fast diet about four years ago and thought my chocolate shake could use
a peppermint altoid zip as I am quite fond of the chocolate/mint combo. I used the blender to mix
everything, but was disappointed with the taste. I drank it anyway, because as you can imagine I was
pretty hungry and grouchy. At that time cinnamon was not available, but I think cinnamon would be
tastier since they seem to be sweeter (Werther’s hard toffee candies taste pretty good in the shake
though).”

This is disappointing news, but perhaps there are other approaches, such as leaving the Altoids
unground and using them in pastries, or in place of crutons in salads. After some other comments,
Sugarboots adds another idea: “If your sinuses are tightly closed from a cold or allergies, eating
about 10 peppermint altoids at one time will open them up in no time.”

◊newthought{Says Graham Bartlett}:

◊blockquote{“And where do you get cinnamon Altoids from? I’m in the UK, and it’s hard enough finding
somewhere that sells mint ones. I think it’s actually all a conspiracy run by the French, who hate
both of us…”}

◊newthought{It turns out} I was not being as original as I thought when in item #27 I suggested using a tin to
present an engagement ring. Mark Pettigrew writes:

◊blockquote{“You may be amused to know that I actually did # 27 on your list. It helped to create
a perfect surprise when I proposed to my wife (of course, she loves Altoids too). I proposed at an
eventin Providence, RI called the ‘WaterFire’. They lit small bonfires in the middle of the river
cutting through Providence, music in the background, etc. Very beautiful at night (see
www.waterfire.com). Anyway, I brought her out on a bridge overlooking the fires and asked her if she
wanted an Altoid. She said yes to the Altoids and me.”}

In a seperate message, Mark noted that the Altoids tin was not actually empty at the time; but we
are willing to overlook this. Note that if you plan on imitating this example, take extra care not
to drop the ring in the river as he almost did :-)
}

◊note[#:date "2011-06-20" #:author "Stephanie"]{
My little sister is in third grade and she had to make an instrument for music class. We wanted to
do something that was small and unique. So I came up with taking sand paper and putting it on two
tins. Then as a double I put rice in it to be a shaker. So in the end we had a shaker/scraper.}

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2019-04-11")

◊title{What Should People Do With Old Journals?}

When I die, I’ll leave behind a lot of ◊index{journals} and notebooks. These may be of
interest to my immediate family, but they won’t exactly be great leisure reading. The only obvious
choices are to keep them in a box in the attic, or eventually throw them out.

There ought to be a third choice. Even the most mundane journal has great value simply because it
contains lots of historical information about current thinking, lifestyle habits, values, and events,
things which change wildly over long time periods.

On the receiving end, suppose you inherit your great-grandfather’s journal; he has been dead for
decades and you never knew him personally. If you can find the time, you pore over it for an hour or
two, deciphering the handwriting. You learn some facts about him and how he looked at things. What
happens after that?

I have an idea that there should be an ◊index[#:key "archives"]{archive}, a public repository for
things like this. You could send in your great-grandfather’s journal for use by future historians.
They would digitize or transcribe it, analyze it, and tag it with metadata about who wrote it, when
they wrote it, and generally what topics they wrote about. They could allow you to specify that it
must remain private until a specified date, and provide you with a digital copy, or even a nice hard
copy if you wanted to pay a little extra.

This would give researchers a huge resource to draw upon, and allow the full value of old journals
(the sentimental ◊em{and} the historic value) to be realized, without compromising anyone’s
privacy.

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2003 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "2003-07-07")

◊title{What You Might Have Done}

◊caps{You had} just gone into the den to grab your coffee mug, which you’d left there after
breakfast; but when you saw the ◊index[#:key "paperbacks"]{dingy paperback}, your presence of mind
failed you, and you paused. It somehow recalled the scratchy, stuffy days of your elementary
education, and it rather sickened you. You looked out the window: it was raining. I have to get out
of here, you thought. You might have stood there all morning, but in the rapidly thickening clouds
of your mind, something told you to back out of the room and take a breath. And immediately the
skies parted, you laughed at yourself, and you were home again, with twenty years safely between you
and the starched collars of your youth.

◊index[#:key "drowning"] This is what a drowning man must feel like when he’s gone down, down, and felt
the water entering his lungs and the lights going out, and then been hauled up and given his life
back by some brave stranger. You’re a little more grateful for having gone through it. Maybe when
he’s got over it, the nearly-drowned man will go back every now and again, and have a look at the
lake that nearly was his grave, and take fresh joy in the fact that it didn’t get him after all.
That’s fine up to a point; but it isn’t healthy to do it too often.

But there are differences between you and the drowning man. You had friends at the bottom of your
lake, people you knew and joked with and who had some good points about them. You can never go back
and see them; for one thing your soul revolts at revisiting that episode in any way, shape or form;
and for another, they are gone. It’s too bad they didn’t all turn out like you. They would have been
happier.

And maybe in another five or ten years, you will go back into that den, perhaps to pack its contents
into boxes for a move, and you will come across more dingy paperbacks and yellowed notebooks. Some
of them are missing; you loaned them away, and truth be told you’re actually glad they were never
returned. You will never read them; and someday the sight and smell of them may throw you into
a gray reverie from which you never emerge. Listen! If you have any sense, you will burn them in the
firepit and then take a short walk with your wife. Better a small loss of sentiment than the
straightjacket.

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "1999-04-27")

◊verse[#:title "When Even In the Dell Was Green"]{
When even in the dell was green
Atop the hills and in between,
One might have heard, but scarcely seen
A ◊index[#:key "group singing"]{choir} in the weeds.

The ◊index{frogs} they were, of voice most clear,
And all of them had keenest ear
And sang aloud in harmony
Their ageless croaking rhapsodies.

They sang alone without piano;
Many bass, but few soprano
The toad among them was a tenor,
Of noble bearing and demeanor.

When one night they were at the parish
Dressed up in tuxedos garish
Performing in that giant hall,
A sudden silence did befall!
The audience began to quiet,
The air was tense, I won’t deny it;
Before the first note had been sung
But was held in waiting on the tongue,

A noise there was upon stage left
That left their speech and wits bereft:
Footsteps padding on the stage
And up to the conductor’s cage
There walked a small, disdainful ◊index[#:key "Fly (insect)!musical conductor"]{fly}
With glasses thick upon his eyes.

He paged through his conductor’s score;
(The awe-struck singers stared the more)
Motioned the music to be passed,
And raised baton in stern address!

The baton came down, the first chord rang,
The fly drew all effort from each note that they sang;
The score was matchless, each bar was inerrant
The frogs watched as though children,
The fly-maestro the parent.

Now comes the solo! Hark to the thrill
Of the tenor in wonder! His voices the hall fills!
In accent how prudent! In tone how sublime
As he masters his part for the very first time;
And now the fly bids him his last note sustain
And the frog pours it forth with all of his main!
Still he sustains it! Can such a thing last?
Deep inside his lungs reaches for every last gasp,
And the fly bids him muster, with quavering palm
Till at last all is quiet, in an instant is calm.

Then in joyous resolve, and as per the score,
The reprisal rebounds grander now than before!
The choir in section and unison spans
What notes can be sung by amphibians;
Then finally finish in massive chords sage
That continue through every last bar of the page;
Then the fly bids them stop! with a flick of his hand,
And were the song great, yet the silence more grand.

All movement was settled, all sound became mute,
For the sound they’d just heard was one none could refute;
The choir in wonder at what they’d locuted,
The audience quiet, completely confuted.
At last the conductor by degrees turned about
To face that great crowd, who all shouted aloud;
With a bow to his fans and a nod to the frogs,
He gave a high buzz, and he flew himself out.}

#lang pollen

◊; Copyright 2019 by Joel Dueck. All Rights Reserved.

◊(define-meta published "1999-12-16")
◊title{Why America Should Conquer Canada}

It is bothersome, though not surprising, that the ‘◊index{Canada} issue’ has not been addressed by
presidential candidates in America for decades. This issue presents a number of obvious problems and
a single (equally obvious) solution for them all.

We at ◊caps{JIPW} have been advocating the takeover of Canada since the latter part of the last
century, and recent developments have only made us more confident. Notwithstanding, however, we have
found the issue to be an emotionally and politically charged one.

Reader, before you continue, you must take note that I am a Minnesotan, whose father and his father
before him were born in Canada; and who has many Canadian relatives. It is commonly known that
‘Duecks’ are as plentiful in Winnepeg as ‘Johnsons’ in the St. Paul. Canada and America have an
entanglement of fate comparable to that of England and France in the days of the Plantaganets. In
attaining Canada we do not make ourselves the enemy and despiser of it, but we love Canada such that
we would have it all ours.

The decidedly simple editors of our contemporary publications, such as the Pequod Lake Conifer and
Gazette have raised the question of how assimilation of Canada could be in the best interests of our
prosperous Republic. First, as a matter of human compassion, we ought to feel compelled to save the
Canadian citizens from their arguably socialist government and failed economy. Their dollar is worth
roughly half of its robust American equivelant, and the majority of their money is fed, via heavy
taxes, into a half-baked nationalized health-care system as well as a ponderous number of other
foolish programs.

The truth is, Canada has shot itself in the foot and is in desperate need of help. Consider the
resident Frenchmen who, through a fluke in the Canadian system of representation, enjoy an unfair
leverage in matters of State. This has produced in them no end of arrogance, and they stubbornly try
to subvert the spread of the English language through stupid legislation. It was reported not long
since that a man could not, without heavy fines, place a sign exclusively in English on his
storefront. All signs, down to a piece of cardboard with ‘OPEN’ written in marker, must be in
English and French. And additionally, people have to deal with all sorts of beeheaded regulations
involving the relative sizes of the letters, and so on. The whole nation of Canada is shackled with
intrinsic governmental flaws of this kind. It would be prudent to flush the whole parliamentary
system and its accruement of fusty laws and bureaucracies altogether down the toilet, and to bring
Canada under American jurisdiction.

An assimilation of Canada would also solve the longstanding and very frustrating problem of fishing
rights in the Northwest Angle, a small fragment of Minnesota which was isolated from the rest of the
state by a surveilance and navigational error. When Canada has been conquered, the Angle can be made
a part of the new State of Ontario, and everyone can enjoy equal fishing rights as American
citizens. The removal of hassles involving crossing borderlines, &c., would also be a boon to the
locals at the Angle, as well as the general shipping economy which revolves about the Great Lakes.

Finally, this strategic move would put an end once and for all to the cruel practice of forcing the
Canadian schoolchildren to try to learn the meandering national anthem, ‘O Canada.’ We would also be
able to eliminate this confusing strain from the sports stadiums in games at which the Canadian
baseball and hockey teams participate.

◊note[#:date "2013-11-11" #:disposition "† dumb"]{

I perked up a bit when I read ◊link['n1]{Today's Question} from MPR News: ◊link['n2]{Should the U.S.
and Canada merge?}

◊url['n1]{https://twitter.com/MPRnews/status/399893023204859905}
◊url['n2]{http://blogs.mprnews.org/todays-question/2013/11/should-the-u-s-and-canada-merge/}

I probably wouldn’t write such a thing again today, even as satire. It’s not because the Canadian
and US dollars have been at par for a couple of years now, nor because 32-year old me understands
better than 18-year old me how a weak dollar can actually be good for an economy. And — you’ll have
to trust me on this — it’s not even because I’m married to a Canadian. Even before I met my wife, in
the wake of the Iraq war and having learned a little actual history, I woke up to the fact that
American hegemony is too real and too stupid to make for good humor.

Besides which. My sense these days is that America is ◊em{already} such a ◊link['n3]{thinly
held-together coalition of such wildly different economies, values, and legal cultures} that I’m not
sure it can be governed fairly or effectively even without any additions.

◊url['n3]{http://www.tufts.edu/alumni/magazine/fall2013/features/up-in-arms.html}
}

◊note[#:date "2015-09-16"]{

Apparently there was a brief period in the 1920s when America and Canada were both secretly drafting
plans to invade each other. Tracy Mumford, reporting for Minnesota Public Radio:

◊blockquote{“In 1921, a Canadian lieutenant by the name of Buster Brown drafted ‘Defence Scheme No.
1.’ Despite ‘defense’ in the title, it was ‘a full-on invasion plan,’ according to Kevin Lippert,
the author of War Plan Red… In the end, he proposed a five-pronged attack. In the west, Canadian
troops would take Seattle and Portland. In the east, the Quebecois would occupy Albany. Maine would
be reclaimed, as would the Great Lakes. In the Midwest, Brown’s plan called for ‘Prairie Command’ to
swing through Fargo and then head south to invade Minneapolis and St. Paul.”}

◊figure["ca-invasion-plan-x.jpg"]{“Defence Scheme No. 1” from ◊link['n4]{War Plan Red} By Kevin
Lippert}

◊url['n4]{https://www.librarything.com/work/16065817}
}