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the farcical force of the furze

a long time ago in Sports Illustrated magazine

there was an account of a Scotsman in a kilt

golfing on a course that had thigh-high gorse

as its rough

and the poor Scotsman hit his ball into that rough

and wading through the gorse to get to his ball

his scrotum was lacerated by the spiny gorse

and he exclaimed “OOH!! ME WEE DANGLIES!!”

and that elicited from me a zero-empathy horselaugh

because the scrotal descriptor was unexpected

and zany

.

so here we are years later and i need to write a poem

but i have nothing

my brain is blanksville

except for a title appearing spontaneously,

“the farcical force of the furze”

which as fate would have it matches the meter

of the first line of a Limerick

so that would write itself except i am not exactly sure

what “furze” means

so I look it up and it means “gorse”

and the memory of the Scotsman bubbles up

and i would love to reread the article

so i do a search on “me wee danglies”

.

alas, no article, but curiously

a small hanging light made in czechoslovakia

shaped like a spider with the light its abdomen

is being marketed under the name “wee dangly”

it’s cute

.

the farcical force of the furze

brings a Scotsman to tears and incurs

ignition of memory

rough as boards they call emory

when hazardous flora occurs.

.

such internet search serendipity

bringing up such strange knowledge that’s flipped to me

and that randomness element

huge as an elephant

may well take me from cradle to crypt–we’ll see.

It might help to think of this blog post as a carnival ride. Take or leave all the backstory and poetry, if you wish. At heart it’s an improbable occurrence that may if let mess with your middle earbones a little bit, pleasurably I hope.

2020 0703 toucan

Many years ago I read Cool Hand Luke by Donn Pearce for the first time. It was about a man who found himself in Florida, in the Raiford prison chain gang. Every 4th of July the inmates got the closest thing to a holiday the prison offered, with free lemonade and some latitude, with the thought that a positive association with Independence Day, the springboard of the United States of America, would help instill in the convicts more love of country, and therefore of law and order. Ironically enough, though, in this scene from the book, some convicts were quietly sawing through the wood floor of the building, through which some would escape, thus declaring their independence. It’s a well-crafted scene, but the only reason I bring it up is that Carr the floorwalker at one point announces, “First bell. You done had your fun.”

The sentence “You done had your fun.” has been echoing in my head for over 50 years. I use it every time I need to tear myself away from self-indulgence and get back to chores, work, or other responsible activity. Many is the time “You done had your fun.” has compelled me to walk away from a gambling venue before I put my debit card in the ATM yet another time. (I am a recovering gambling addict, what Mario Puzo called in his too-neglected novel Fools Die a “degenerate gambler.”)

I’ve been in a creative slump of late, and the combination of self-quarantine due to COVID-19 and serial movie-watching and overindulgence in various tasty treats has undermined my creative output further. Finally I grabbed myself by the scruff of the neck, figuratively speaking, and said, “You done had your fun.”

Then I realized that with alternative spelling that would actually make the phrase more Southern-sounding, “You Dun Had Yer Fun” was a perfect quintuple acrostic. It would be a bear to write, but the challenge might well pull me out of my slump some. So here we are.

Since it is a quintuple acrostic, and I took on the further challenge of keeping the verbiage to a minimum, with as little sacrifice to rhyme and meter as possible, the logic of the poem’s content goes afield more than once. But that turned out to be serendipitous, because right at the last few words there came unbidden the perfect subject matter for the illustration: an Undressed Toucan. “What kind of clothes would a toucan wear??!” “Why, self-expressive HAWAIIAN SHIRT and HAWAIIAN SHORTS, of course!!”

Nobody else on Earth, except MAYBE the latest, bleeding-edge Artificial Intelligence Artist, could have created this page. Like Peter Pan, I gotta crow about that, though with the subtextual knowledge that no one else on Earth would WANT to.

****
You Dun Had Yer Fun

You’re riding high and then you eyeball stuff
You so doubt what you’re saying off the cuff

Of course your sense can intercede for you
One scene’s unclear and typeset in Urdu

Urbane and sleek, of dearth you’re not a fan
Unless until y’undress a mere toucan
****

About that powder-blue, fizzy effacement: It is sort of a way of marking my territory. When an intaglio plate, or lithographer’s slab, is deemed by the artist to be unworthy of reproduction, the plate or stone may be slashed with an appropriate tool, indicating that any further use of the plate or stone is unauthorized. About 38 years ago I had one of my intaglios professionally printed in a limited edition. The printer included with the prints and ancillary materials the declaration: “The plate has been effaced.” Remembering that, and wanting to jazz up the image a bit, I used photoediting software to efface this too-canny effort.

Maybe it was all for a Bad Pun. In the Arizona Wildcat, the school newspaper for the University of Arizona, reviewer Bryan Johnstone called the comments by my artwork in the solo show I had in the Hall of Fame gallery “self-effacing.”

Thank you, O Reader, for reading my Bad Pun of the Day. (Actually, there are two Bad Puns in this post. Can you spot the other one?)

20180403_183530.jpg

So I noticed that Salma is five letters long, as is Hayek. How strange not to notice till now that Frida Kahlo is the same way.

The words relate to her journey as a film actress:

Serendipity/Dogma/Kevin Smith

Alfred Molina/Rivera 4 Frida

Lashback @ repugnant Harvey

May she ever be Rose

And we respect Martha Beck