"Title"

I made the Madonna parody, and it does look like it gave me a "Posted by K.Grace" at the end. At least from my computer. Yours looks like it's connected to mine because you didn't create a "Title" for your post, which would have created a nice separator. I think that's what happened.

Mini Quest

Hey.....I love the Madona parody but it looks like my post and it isn't. There's no post signature. Inquiring minds want to know who the talent is behind this parody. Wish it were me, but I'm not that quick witted......yet!

I Ma-donned-a Song!

Any opportunity to make fun of Madonna's music, is heartily embraced by me.
I took "Lucky Star" and wrote "Junkie Car". The back story is that Madonna enjoys the show "Car Talk" on NPR, with Click and Clack...the Tappet Brothers. (I like that show. One of the brothers has a laugh identical to my grandpa's old laugh...so I always am reminded of him.) Anyhoo ... Madonna calls the brothers for advice ...

If you can't remember the melody of the song...please watch this video first. YouTube didn't allow me to post the original video for the song, so you're left with this version set to photos of the pop diva. It's so brilliantly bad! :)



Can you help me fix my car?
I'm sick of it not getting me far
I just called, because I love your show
Oh baby, please know ...

The headlights, don't shine
so I can't drive at night,
The alignment, is off
I'm drifting left and right ...

Do you hear my desperate call?
I feel I'm backed up, against the wall ...
I'm at my wit's end and I'm losing my hair
What knowledge, will you share??

The A/C, is hot
and I can't turn it off
My side mirrors, are shot
and I get hit a lot ...

I should have bought a foreign make,
That's the last time, I'll make that mistake

Oh, share your heavenly knowledge tonight!
Cool my engine, and clean out my pipes!

Triple A has saved my ass,
but I want to leave that in the past
The muffler's dragging on the road
I can't count the times this thing's been towed

Locate a heavenly body-shop tonight
Help me transform this sorrowful sight!

Oh, can you fix my junkie car?
I'm always impressed with how patient you are ...
I need a list of mechanics you know
please tell me, where do I go?

Will you help me fix my car??
Oh, Click and Clack of NPR ...
*My name is spelled, with an 'O' and two 'N's
Oh, how is this dilemma to end??


*If you've ever listened to "Car Talk" you'll recall that the hosts regularly ask how caller's names are spelled. So that's why I threw that in. OMG. I suddenly feel like Weird Al Yankovic. That is creepy...

Parody Parade

I'm up for the mini assignment. So many songs, so little time to make fun of them.

January's Post

Who hasn't had a turn? Step forth! Let's create some memories to last forever!!!!!!!!

Mini-Topic: Song Parody

I liked the idea of a song for the 100th post so much, that I'm suggesting we all write a Song Parody. Pick any tune, write any parody of such. What do you think? Due January 15!

Who's up for suggesting our Main Topic for January? Hmm?

Merry Christmas and a Better 2009!

To all of you! Write well and write much. And may we all "slay the beast" in 2009.

Embracing Cash

Dad: Y-y-yell-o?

Daughter: Hi, Dad, how are you?

Dad: All the better for hearing your voice.

Daughter: Do you have a coupla minutes for dream therapy?

Dad: For you, I’ve all the time in the world . . .

Daughter: I just had a dream about J. C.

Dad: Jesus Christ?

Daughter: No, Johnny Cash.

Dad: Was he dressed in black?!

Daughter: Actually, yes, but his black clothes were in sharp contrast to the white floor and decor. He stood in the front of a room, in the center of a smooth inlaid white circle, as if the outline of a spotlight had been traced there. But the floor was in no way raised up – he wasn’t on a stage. Although I didn’t see anyone else, he looked ready to address a group, and seemed to enjoy being on their level. Hey, I’m just remembering you were dressed in black when I dreamed about seeing you by chance in a coffee shop. Did that have any meaning? You never used to wear a black shirt – I don’t think you even owned one.

Dad: The black is a simple statement, a reminder.

Daughter: Of what?

Dad: That although we’ve crossed the fifty per cent line, we could do better, we must do better!

Daughter: The fifty per cent line?

Dad: Your lovely planet is now more light than dark, more love than fear . . . and only a conscious-full momentum on an individual basis will keep it heading in that direction. So did Johnny have his guitar slung across his back?

Daughter: No he didn’t have anything with him at all - no guitar, no microphone, no band. Just Johnny.

Dad: Just standing there?

Daughter: Yep, just like in yoga - mountain pose! He turned slightly toward me and smiled when he saw me approach. You know, you were smiling in that coffee shop dream, too . . .

Dad: The smile is a simple statement, a reminder of . . .

Daughter: . . . of 'love and laughter'? That's how you signed your photo! But what about Johnny himself?

Dad: Well, he certainly faced powerful addictions, and overcame them in the end.

Daughter: Gives me hope for all the addictive situations that have challenged me. He received and then created a world of hurt in his life, before he saw the light. It’s good to know he survives and thrives in spite of it all.

Dad: More accurately, because of it all! What about the spotlight?

Daughter: In the dream I was about to embrace Johnny, to enter that symbolic spotlight, but here I avoid the spotlight at all costs. I never seem to have anything to say.

Dad: You’re talking to me right now . . .

Daughter: True, I spoke in the dream, too. I was so incredibly glad to see Johnny that I didn’t hesitate to go right up to him and say, “What’re you doing here?” He replied, “What’re you doing here?”

Dad: Ha! He turned the tables on you, answered your question with your own question!

Daughter: I know, smiling all the while! As if he already knew his purpose, just standing there with an easy, confident peace. Maybe I should focus on “What am I doing here”. Hmmm . . . seems to be a recurrent dream theme.

Dad: Wait ‘til tonight’s dream!

Daughter: What? I’m calling you for dream therapy and now you’re giving me the impression that you yourself have something to do with creating my dreams in the first place?

Dad: Let’s just say, that in tonight's dream, you should be on the look-out for a little newborn babe . . .

Daughter: Jesus Christ?

Dad: Not exactly, but some might say . . .

Daughter: There are no babies in my life! In fact, there’s talk of having to face yet another imminent family upheaval.

Dad: You can get through it. Be patient, be patient. Remember . . . on an individual basis . . .

Daughter: I don't know how this time!

Dad: It's okay to not know!

Daughter: And you’re not here any more! Gone are the days when you could make everything better by the simple act of handing me your hankie! Oh! All those times! Were you . . . you were! You were just making a simple statement!

Dad: Yes! But you’re long past needing my handkerchief. In fact, you continue to be stronger than you think. Your sensitivity is not weakness! Just keep doing what you’re doing!

Daughter: What’s that?

Dad: Keep nursing, nurturing the gift of Divine Joy!

Daughter: Thanks for the reminder, Dad. And Merry Christmas.

Dad: Froehliche Weihnachten! Merry Christmas, dear heart.

winter solstice 2008

A Celebration

The return of light!
Monday will be the longest night of the year, and then we begin to see life return to the world...winter is a season which proves that we are indeed mammals, and it sometimes seems that the cold is trying to wipe us out. But we are survivors, just like the flower bulbs, tiny saplings, and this years' fawns. We need these holidays to get us through, to reflect, yes, to put up with our insane relatives. Their quirks make us family, blood or not. It is not the money spent, not perfect gift which matters, but the time spent together, and the connection we share with all things. Accept the blessings, trials, joy and sorrow of the school we term life. Love in the best way you can.

Answers to Riddles

1) All about, but cannot be seen,
-- Can be captured, cannot be held,
-- No throat, but can be heard.
-- What is it?

Answer: The Wind
________________________________________

2) In a marble hall white as milk
-- Lined with skin as soft as silk
-- Within a fountain crystal-clear
-- A golden apple doth appear.
-- No doors there are to this stronghold,
-- Yet thieves break in to steal its gold.
-- What is it?

Answer: An Egg
________________________________________

3) Pronounced as one letter,
-- And written with three,
-- Two letters there are,
-- And two only in me.
-- I'm double, I'm single,
-- I'm black, blue, and gray,
-- I'm read from both ends,
-- And the same either way.
-- What am I?

Answer: An Eye
________________________________________

4) You throw away the outside and cook the inside
-- Then you eat the outside & throw away the inside
-- What did you eat?

Answer: Corn on the cob
________________________________________

5) I fly, yet I have no wings.
-- I cry, yet I have no eyes.
-- Darkness follows me; lower light I never see.
-- What am I?

Answer: A Cloud
________________________________________

6) What is red and smells like blue paint?

Answer: Red paint

I want to congratulate Aunt Sue as she gave the correct answers for 3 of the 6 riddles (#1, #3, and #5). Wonderful job!!

A Short Story

Greetings everybody! I was just thinking about this experience I had some time back and I wanted to share it with you. I'm in the mood to write, I guess. This can be my contribution the the Ditalini Press 100 post celebration! Enjoy!

I remember laying in my bed looking out my bedroom window. Watching the big fluffy snowflakes falling from the sky, glistening in the street light. My favorite kind of snow. It was just before midnight and the street and the yard were already covered. I tried to hold back the tears, as I wondered what emotion I was actually experiencing. Was it fear, gratefulness, sadness, excitement?
I did not want the moment to end; the unknown was always my greatest fear. The inevitable changes were already set in motion and I think I saw the passing of the next day as the beginning of the end. It scared me, but I felt was ready.
Still I watched, now sitting up in bed; because I knew if I laid my head down I would go to sleep. I just wanted to savor the moment a little longer. I remember the words "thank you" running through my mind over and over as I watched the snow gently falling to the earth.
It was time to go to sleep, I wanted to stay up longer, but the peacefulness and beauty of the night was gently lulling me to sleep. I rested my head on my pillow and felt a tear roll down my cheek. The dawn will be here soon enough and I will wake up to my last Christmas at home.
I knew this Christmas was going to be very emotional for my mother. It was emotional for me too, but I was young and did not want to show it. She had always tried to make the day so special for my sister and I; and still does. The day flew by and that Christmas is such a blur to me now. But I will always remember that Christmas Eve night; sitting in bed watching the snow.

Scrabble Wars Infinity

FYI
Thanks to Susans' inspirational coaching, I have come to enjoy my Scrabble Wars format so much that I've started another blog entitled the same. If you enjoy the scary dialog between my daughter and I, you might get a chuckle out of some of the other get togethers! Ditalini Press rocks!

Celebrate the 100th Ditalini Press post with a Song, dangit!

I can't believe no one wants to grab the 100th blog post spot! I waited. And waited some more. Then I said, 'Fine. I will.'

I wrote this song (see below) for inclusion in my latest full-length play - a dark comedy called, "How To Kill A Boy". When I was a kid, I created the first verse below. Never got any further. I expanded the song from that point. It's a silly song and has nothing to do with the dark comedy I'm writing - but it does provide some levity between the protagonist and the individual he's butting heads with. And it was fun to write and sing - which makes sense in the context it's used in the play. I suppose it's sort of hard to appreciate it with the melody I have in my head, but...put your own tune to it and see how you like it.

I was inspired to finish the song after seeing the movie, "Juno". Contributing writer = Katie Anderson. (Thank you!)

“Two Men”

Two men
Livin’ in
A little house
By the waterfalls
Two men livin’ in
A little house by the falls
Making dolls

Oh-h…
Two dolls
Cornhusk dolls
Cost a buck, you see
That’s not for two, but a piece
Two men
Making dolls
Cornhusk dolls just a dollar apiece.

Oh-h…
makin’ dolls
tens of thousands of cornhusk dolls
That little house is a’buzzin’ with glee
price arisin’ – 20 bucks for each
Millionaires
A bigger house
by the falls with their nest egg of dolls.

(scat break – singing)

Two men
No more corn
And no more cornhusk dolls
(had to move back to that small-house-by-the-falls)
No more corn
No more dolls
If you were in their shoes
What would you do?

(no scat or singing, just instrumental, 2 - 8 counts)

Straw dolls.
Made outta straw.
The two men found a way to keep their million dollar ways going strong
Straw dolls
Diversified
That’s all I’ll tell
Not one word is a lie

Two men
Livin’ in
A little house
By the falls
Two men livin’ in
A little house by the falls
Making dolls

© Copyright 2008 Jeffrey James Ircink

Numerical Occasion

The next post made after this one will mark our 100th blog post for Dit. Press. Remember July 14th? That was when Team Ditalini signed the draft, and went into combat. Pencil to paper. Keypad to screen.

You all make me happy. Thanks.

10-minute play makes Semi-Finals in Sydney!

(Am I allowed to make random posts like this?)

Since this is a writer's group, thought you'd appreciate my news (particularly if you don't follow my blog, PASSION = TRUTH). My short play, "The Bed", was shortlisted for Short & Sweet/Sydney, the biggest little play festival in the world. 1000 entries whittled down to 300. They'll whittle further by December 15 - down to the finals which will be performed in Sydney over a month period, mid-January. 2009 to mid February. Had one in the semi's last year as well but that's as far as it got.

Here's my blog link on the news. If you're interested in reading, "The Bed", let me know and I'll get it to you. It's only 10 minutes. It concerns an elderly man's introspective look back at the various stages of his life - and the significance of his bed in each stage. No dialogue - all first-person narration.

HEY KATIE.....

I love the new look of Ditalini Press! Way to go!

Happy December

I hope everyone had a fantastic and meaningful Thanksgiving celebration this year. I thought I'd share with you a quote from author and speaker Seth Godin. I am a subscriber of his emails for marketing and business, and especially enjoyed the last one I read from him.


Thanksgiving

This has always been my favorite holiday. No gifts, no guilt, no doctrine.

For me, the holiday celebrates people who contribute with no expectation of anything in return. Online, the rules are no different. There are plenty of people typing as fast they can, all in expectation of what they'll get in return for that link or that shoutout or that flame. And then there are the superstars, the folks who have found a great platform for generosity.

Why be generous?

Why go out of your way for someone who can't possibly pay you back?

I hope the answer is obvious. It is to me. The benefit is in the fact that they can't pay you back. The opportunity to instruct or assist when you can gain nothing in return is priceless. It creates meaning and momentum and structure.

If you've been reading my blog this year, thanks for giving me the chance to teach.

If you've been helping at triiibes or Squidoo or on Twitter or on your blog or your social network of choice, and doing it without regard for repayment, thanks. We appreciate it more than you know.

And if you've dedicated your life to helping real people in real need, not just doing it when it's convenient, then you have my deepest thanks. It's not easy and it's not always fun, but it's vitally important and it matters. Thank You.

-Seth Godin

I have also created a new Dit. Press banner, you may have noticed. I wanted something a little bit festive. If you don't think it fits our vibe, please tell me. I'm delirious now from working on it so long. I can't tell anymore :)

Anagram Fun: Theresa Clare Evans

RARE ACTS SAVE HELEN

ETHEREAL CANVASSER
RARE HEAVEN CASTLES

HAS CLEVEREST ARENA
EARNER, HAVE CASTLES

REAL HEAVEN ACTRESS
REHEARSAL: ACT SEVEN
EVEN CAST REHEARSAL
ASL HEARERS EVEN ACT

AN ASL TEACHER - SERVE
AN ASL-VERSE TEACHER
HAVE TEN ASL CAREERS
THEN SAVE ASL CAREER
HAS CAREER - ASL EVENT
ASL EVENTS - EACH RARE
ASL EVENTS REACH EAR
HAVE ASL EARS CENTER
EVEN ASL HEARTS CARE
HAS REVERENCE AT ASL

Anagram Fun: Theresa Clare

CARS ELATE HER

THE CLEAR EARS
HEAR CLEAREST
TCE ASL HEARER
ASL THE CAREER
TEACHER RE:ASL
REAL TEACHERS
RELEASE CHART
A HEALER CREST
A CARE SHELTER
ASL CARE THERE

ETHEREAL ARCS
ETCH RARE SEAL
HEAL RACE, REST

CHASE REEL ART
EACH REEL ARTS
STAR EACH REEL
HERS A REAL ACT
REAL ACTS HERE
REHEARSAL ETC
SHARE REEL ACT

Anagram Fun: Michael Stone

Family friend, adopted 'son':

MICHAEL STONE = ONE ALCHEMIST

Happy Thanksgiving!

That first Thanksgiving in France was so fun!
Having all those people over,
Asking me questions about the Pilgrims and the
Native Americans and me blushing when I didn't
Know all the answers.
Sitting at the end of a long table eating blood pudding instead of turkey,
Getting nervous as my turn approached to say what
I was thankful with my Anglo-Saxon accent. Trying in
Vain to convince everyone pumpkin pie was delicious. Until they took a bite!
I put on some records and everyone danced and I could
Not stop laughing until we
Got up the next morning to do dishes.

<<<< another >>>>

(I wrote this dialogue in September. An imaginary conversation between the musician Mike Patton and a fan. They speak through a special box...not quite a phone...more telepathic in nature)

He had a watch box, ready for dialogue transmission. He sat in a confused and quiet hotel room in Berlin, turkey and swiss in one hand, his feet in a little plastic tub full of hot water and epsom salt...they were feeling more aged than ever, sore from bouncing and hopping on the stages of so many different countries. His watch box sat on the hotel side table next to binders of songs he was constantly working on...he sat on the edge of the low bed and began to speak:

*MIke Patton : here to rock it

girl: i saw a guru die today

MP: and ?

girl: don't judge, it was the look in his eyes. the non look, when they rolled back in his head

MP: it all happened, how quick?

girl: i don't know..probably seconds. his speech slurred, his microphone dropped to his lap

MP: he lifted his arms to the sky?

girl: he didn't Mike, his shoulders rose then sunk to the core of him. and he really only had taken one small breath that his body didn't recognize before he exhaled for the last time

MP: oh man..shit

girl: I don't even know what he said. what he was teaching to the crowd

MP: you think he knew it would happen?

girl: I definitely think so. he had woken early that day, and had his meal set aside, away from him....

MP: wasn't hungry

girl: not hungry for it, not that day

MP: so when was this? was ...

girl: he'd always thought of god as just a simple molecule of water. just fluid. that might be sitting atop a branch.

MP: what did he feel, then? about god as he passed away...

girl: i think he touched that dewy place. that dew drop. i had a friend. a friend who died three years back. hit by a semi...and she died instantly. well, she came to me in dreams a lot, there for a few months. i'd been going into lucidity often at that point in time. in my dreams. i was studying it day in and day out, going lucid in naps, when i should've been in class. I traveled alongside Marco Polo, and swam with families of whales, flew alongside Pegasus, wished a rich man into wealth of the heart, and a poor man food, to give him strength to heal the world. But my childhood friend, the one that died...in one of the dreams i found her. her name was Nora. i saw her drenched in light, she was smiling. in previous dreams she'd been as a skull, that jabbered nonsense. set within a room made of shadows. her skull and I carried on conversations off and on, for days. i knew it was all superficial stuff, just Earthly things she needed to get off her chest, but never had a chance to, since she'd died so suddenly.I think at one point she'd said to me, "they just didn't understand me. where were the friend's when i needed them?" And although the sight of the skull had quite an intense frightening affect on me, I wanted to be there for her, to listen openly and respond with supportive words. I kept my eyes facing hers, trying to picture eyeballs occupying the now gaping holes of bone. I kept in mind, that soon she'd be whole again. her spirit having found the place of nonresistance after toiling within the constriction of a human body. I honored her in those dark moments, knowing she'd pull through, and eventually have something to teach me. when that night came, where i dreamed of her as a smiling happy healthy girl again. she faced me and stood there silent, a gorgeous smile. I was lucid and very present with her. we were in our own special...world....moment....however you want to describe it. we were complete, and together. she just as alive as I, and I as alive as she. we were like the children we grew up as, together in our old neighborhood, except had the wisdom of all Ages within our spirits. I thought to myself, what I can do is ask her something, anything. she's on the "other side" now. so i said, "Nora? what is heaven like?" she stood firm yet relaxed, and said merrily..."they LOVE water." A vision of people splashing in luminescent pools of water, droplets flashing across of the screen of my mind, forming a joyful and confirming Oneness. I thanked her and then she vanished. I haven't found her since, in any dream. But I can see her now, in those pools playing and splashing her feet.

MP: the guru went straight to the dew drop. he went past the darkness\the jabbering skull that tries to find closure...he went straight to the water

girl: he had been playing and splashing around for years. and he was a teacher in this Earthly life, to others, on how to be happy and live life in joy and fearlessness...

MP: i got a nudge that he was really just trying to be a good man

girl: he did. he lived what he preached. and the transition from this life to the next was like a thread just extending a little bit further into the garment he'd worn for so long. i think he was just safely placed onto the next page.

MP: my feet are turning to prunes. hold on, gotta dump this water. and find my slippers

the girl waited until he returned

girl: how's the tour going?

MP: well, this is a good round so far. once i'm on stage, i turn the music to the crowd you know? so , i'm not that completely aware of my body. but lately, i'm feeling it afterward. maybe i'm just gettin too old for this. i'm taking care too just focus on my body more, now that i have to.

girl: well, glad you're still out there making music happen. it's making a lot of people feel pretty damn happy. and inspired

MP: talk to you next time then?? maybe....whenever you're back on the watch box???

girl: most def.

MP : take care. signing off . peace, love, all that


*mike patton is in no shape or form associated with or responsible for, in the reality of this world, the words i put into his mouth.

Answer to Joke

Why did the boy paddle to shore?

It was either that oar sink!



(wow...sorry bout that)

Gasping for "Love".

Tyranny
Hate
Anarchy
Need
Killing
Selfishness
Greed
Ignorance
Vice
Indifference
Neglect
.
.
.
Gasping for "Love".

Anagram Fun

I thought I would get in on the anagram fun…
My students love to do these! Undoubtedly, they are so creative they always come up with great ones! Too bad there isn't that much time for such fun activities -- thank you standards based testing!!! If anagrams aren't on the test we aren't supposed to teach them--urghhh!!! Sorry, I'm better now.

THE EYES = THEY SEE

DORMITORY = DIRTY ROOM

DEBIT CARD = BAD CREDIT

THANKSGIVING

To reach across the boundless night
Heaven infuses her starlight
Amid the desolate and despaired
Nothing else can be compared
Knowingly she spins her web
Supporting always her dear ones head
Giving them all they need
In visioning their every deed
Volition is ever their own
In finding the direction home
Never will be a stronger bond
God and her dear ones

Anagram Fun: A Library

A LIBRARY = LIBRA RAY

Writer-bite: Dialog Samplin'

Just came across this example of dialog to go
with our current theme:

http://www.cosmiclighthouse.com/book/export/html/1665

I'm sorry: I hate holidays...

Thanksgiving
Here we go.
Another holiday when grandma pulls me aside and says
No, take that ring off and
Keep it in your pocket!
Sure
Grandma
If you’re ashamed of me.
Violence brewing deep as
I fight the hurt of no acceptance.
No one realizes I love her and she loves me.
Guess this is one of those few times a year I have 6 grand in my wallet.


Three years and
Here we are.
Another holiday with
No friends, they all went home. Family
Kept from us because of my decision to move.
So much for a big dinner. Looks like we will
Go to McDonalds before they close
Instead of eating grandpa’s turkey and mom’s pumpkin pie.
Voluntarily
I came here
Not knowing
God wanted us to be alone.


There she went, as fast as she came.
Hard for her to stay in one place too long.
Always she suffers
Never explaining why as she
Keeps the
Secrets
Given her
In
Violence, given her
In
Narcissistic
Gore as he gobbled and gobbled her innocence away.


Thinking of what keeps me sane
Her
And I keep her sane
Not a scrap of sanity in either of us
Knowing this
She might not think the same
Going by her own
Isolation that she is
Very protective of.
I’m that way too.
Not a scrap of us
Grows without the other.

The Call

“Hello.”
“Hey. What are you doing?”
“Playing poker. I thought you were running?”
“I am.”
“What do you want?”
“I was running by the canal and there's otters in it.”
“That’s weird. They shouldn’t be there.”
“I didn’t think so. What should I do?”
“Call the police.”
“And say what?”
“That there’s otters in the canal.”
“I don’t know if they’re otters.”
“You just said they were.”
“Maybe they’re sea lions.”
“What do they look like?”
“They’re the size of the dog and have tails like his.”
“What color are they.”
“Sort of black.”
“And?”
“They have lots of whiskers.”
“Sounds like baby seals to me. How many are there?”
“Four.”
“Call the police.”
“I don’t know the number.”
“Call 911 and tell them it isn’t an emergency. They’ll transfer you.”
“But I don’t know what they are.”
“Tell them there’s some sort of sea creature in the canal that doesn’t belong there.”
“Will you come?”
“Fine. I’m leaving.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“I’m on my way.”
“They got out and went in the gutter things.”
“The canal doesn’t have gutters.”
“Maybe it isn’t the canal.”
“Well that’s where I’m going. Where should I go?”
“Over by Allen Wit Park.”
“There isn’t a canal over there. It’s just a creek.”
“Well that’s where I am. Are you still coming?”
“I’m turning around.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“They just went back in the water.”
“Where?”
“Over there. You’ll see their heads in a minute.”
“Where?”
“Over there! Look! They’re getting out!”
“Um…those aren’t sea animals.”
“What are they?”
“Well they aren’t black. Don’t have tails like the dog.”
“What are they?”
“Are you sure those are what you were describing?”
“Yes! What are they!”
“Beavers.”
“Oh…”
“Do you want a ride home?”
“No. I’m going to finish my run.”
“Let me know if you see a whale in a puddle.”

Some riddles for you to contemplate...

1) All about, but cannot be seen,

-- Can be captured, cannot be held,

-- No throat, but can be heard.

-- What is it?

________________________________________

2) In a marble hall white as milk

-- Lined with skin as soft as silk

-- Within a fountain crystal-clear

-- A golden apple doth appear.

-- No doors there are to this stronghold,

-- Yet thieves break in to steal its gold.

-- What is it?

________________________________________

3) Pronounced as one letter,

-- And written with three,

-- Two letters there are,

-- And two only in me.

-- I'm double, I'm single,

-- I'm black, blue, and gray,

-- I'm read from both ends,

-- And the same either way.

-- What am I?

________________________________________

4) You throw away the outside and cook the inside

-- Then you eat the outside & throw away the inside

-- What did you eat?

________________________________________

5) I fly, yet I have no wings.

-- I cry, yet I have no eyes.

-- Darkness follows me; lower light I never see.

-- What am I?

________________________________________

6) What is red and smells like blue paint?

-- As you can see, I decided to include a number of riddles within one post. Feel free to answer as many or as few as you would like, just include the riddle number by your answers. Thanks and have fun! -- Luke

RdJ

What is the Little Ren Hen's favorite way to get around town?

ha ha ha ha - JOKE - ha ha ha ha

Why did the boy paddle to shore?

Mable: "He's not marryin' nobody"
Abbey and Rose: "No One."
Garnetha: "Anybody"
Reese: "Any One"
Rose: "He's not marrying?"
Garnetha: "He ought to marry Rae Ann."
Rose: "Says who?"
Abbey: "He did."
Reese: "He most certainly did."
Mable: "But he ain't."
Garnetha: "Not"
Reese: "Is!"
Abbey: "He is?"
Mable: "No!"
Garnetha: "Well he should!"
Rose: "Stop it all of you!"

^^**^^** giving thanks **^^**^^

Tattered
Hair thinning
And eyes dry
Never enough
Kept at a distance
Silent to the world
Going on around her...
Invite a friend inside
Voices of laughing wonder
Inner peace meets outer
New!
Great!

A excerpt from my new one-act, REVEILLE!

This is from a works-in-progress one-act. Always nice to get feedback from folks.

(August. 1862. Evening. Somewhere in the Shenandoah Valley of Northern Virginia. The Civil War is in its second year. AMANDA, 25, is sitting at a long table in the living room of a modest farm home - writing. CATHERIN is eight years older and plays a utilitarian role, busying herself with the day-to-day routines associated with the house and property. They live alone on the property. AMANDA has just finished an essay on "her typical day" in the hopes that Godey's Ladies Book will consider publishing it. CATHERIN is slicing watermelon.)

AMANDA
I say Godey’s is not a luxury but a necessity. With its helpful hints and its patterns and needlework and instructions in housekeeping – why we save twice the price we pay for it in less than a few months.

CATHERIN
Prissy...piece...of trash.

AMANDA
Then why don’t you submit your own story?

(Once she has finished slicing the watermelon, CATHERIN begins ironing.)

CATHERIN
The world is an unhappy place, Amanda. My demeanor would have to be on a higher plain for me to even consider the task of sitting down to write – Godey’s or otherwise.

AMANDA
Well if the world were in a better place, what would you write about then?
(Silence.)
Oh, come on. Don’t be such a sour puss. Tell me.

CATHERIN
I don’t know.
(Pause. Reflecting.)
I suppose I’d write about living here in the valley – before the war...when even the faintest breeze blows in the smell of sassafras blossoms from a mile away and the mockingbirds swoop down on anyone who gets close to their nest – which they do without reservation because everyone knows you’re never to kill a mockingbird and the mockingbirds know it, too.
(She stops ironing.)
I’d write about how that dog of yours slouches around so much so you’d think she were dead to the world –

AMANDA
Don’t talk unkindly about Molly. She’s never ever even hurt a flea.

CATHERIN
- except for when she nips at the honey bees flying about her head.
(Beat)
Or I’d write about our farm...how you’re scared of feeding the chickens and how one day –

AMANDA
I am not!

CATHERIN
You are too – and quit interrupting me. And how one day you proposed we eat the Rhode Island Red and Plymouth Rock chickens as they most certainly were Yankee-bred and would do irreparable harm to a Southerner’s palate. I’d tell of midnight walks along 4¼ Mile Road, lit up by the slightest sliver of a moon – like a postcard...where you can hear the rippling and splashing of Little Mountain Run in the dark as she snakes down and around through the Shenandoah Valley, and the horned owl joins the bullfrog and the crickets in a symphony that only God could compose. Or the lonesome whistle of the Blue Ridge Railway...clickety-clackety – reminding me there’s a world to explore beyond this valley. I’d write how exhausted I am after drinking it all in and how I’m able to get a full night’s sleep and wake up refreshed, ready to experience it all over again.
(Beat)
Not like now...where the world’s filled with nothing but the suffering because of some men’s war. Not like now when I worry that soldiers might steal off with the horses in the middle of the night or that I might awaken to a rifle barrel stuck in my gut – or worse.
(Beat)
Oh I smell sassafras occasionally. And I’m not saying the crickets have stopped chirping all together. But it’s –
(Beat)
– everything I cherish about this place has been smothered by war. The trains bring men into town, filling our streets with blue troops and gray troops marching off to fight and kill one another. The air is filled with smoke and fire. The Yankees’ blockade stopped Little Mountain Run from rippling and splashing. How many people have we known moved away or killed? This simple life of ours which I derived so much joy is no more.
(Beat)
I took pleasure in the rain – a steady, long, slow rain. It washed the earth clean and made everything smell reborn...new – like fresh laundry brought in outta the sun and the wind. The only rain that falls now brings with it the stench of death and the streets run with the blood of young men who are lost forever. And I’m afraid that everything will change and I’ll forget what it was like.
(Sheepishly.)
I’m rambling on.
(Beat. She goes back to ironing.)
That’s what I’d write about. The way things used to be. Our reality is the war. What joy would there be in writing about that?

AMANDA
Well I’m fairly certain that’s not the slant Godey’s is aspiring it’s readers to write about – all that blood and guts and such. I, for one, choose to concentrate on the positive aspects of the day. War or no war.

CATHERIN
Why don’t you write about that boy you’re always exchanging letters with? What’s his name?

AMANDA
You mean Dowd? He’s in love with me – did I tell you that? His father bought and sold horses in the next county over before the war. I believe he sold most of them to the army. He might be a zillionaire by now.
(She goes back to writing. Beat.)
Sounds like a storybook – all that fluff you were talking about. You came up with all that on your own?

CATHERIN
I’ve lived it all my life. So have you...or did you already forget?

AMANDA
I didn’t forget.
(Beat)
“Sassafras blossoms”. I like that. May I use it in my narration? For Godey’s?

CATHERIN
If you can get over the fluff.

True Happiness

True
Happiness
Attained
Now
Knowing
Showing
Gratitude
In all
Varied
Instances . . .
Never-ending
Gift
- - - - December 2007
Note: I wrote this last year in response to a Satsang Circle suggestion from BB. The touching poems to come out of that meeting inspired me to put forth the challenge to DP members . . .

forevermore, thank you

Though I have never really thought about it in the past
Here I sit pondering these things that have happened in my life
Amidst the tragedies and challenges that have happened and are yet to come
No one in my life has stood as strong as you have by my side
Knowing you and sharing life's most precious gifts and great rewards
Seeing our world change mostly for the better and sometimes for the worse
Gives me a sense of wonder and weakens my innate fear of the unknown
Imagination has not trumped reality and happiness has overwhelmed doubt
Visions of the future can not help but predicate the inevitable changes
I can only pray that these moments will be instilled in my memory forevermore
Nevertheless, I hope to never take these things for granted & say thank you for
Giving me these priceless treasures that I could not have imagined years ago

"To V.W."

To V.W.

This person –
Her demeanor entrances me
Anxiously I ponder her being
Not having met
Kept from me
She radiates beauty
Gushes with passion
In her I see myself –
Vibrant, vivacious, vexing
Inherent in complexities
Numb to anything but “the now”
Gregariously grateful. Me.

- special thanks to Richard Le Breton

Thanksgiving

Thinking that I
Have become
Addicted to the belief that
No one can be a white
Knight in these dark days.
Seeking redemption from the
Grief of past disappointments.
Identifying with
Various disbelief's.
I
Need to
Give in to love.

Mini-Topic: Riddle du Jour

Make up and post one or more riddles. DP members will guess the answer in the 'comments' section. Try and 'guess right' or make up a wacky answer! Due December 15!

Mini-Topic: Thanksgiving Crostic

Write a 'gratitude' poem using as a first letter of each line the letters of the word 'Thanksgiving', reading down. Due Wednesday November 26!

Let's talk about dreams

“Do you want to hear about the dream I had last night?”
“Sure.”
“Well, I was at an amusement park, and the roller coasters were really scary. There was this one that was really tall, and you got on it at the top of the tallest hill.”
“Neat.”
“Yeah. It was weird because in the dream I was looking at myself in line from a distance, and I could hardly see myself.”
“That is weird.”
“I know. All of a sudden I saw myself falling from the stairway, still from a distance. I looked like an ant. I don't know what caused me to fall, but before I saw myself hit the ground, I woke up.”
“Scary!”
“I know. Have you ever had an amusement park dream?”
“I don't think so.”
“I wonder what it means.”
“I don't know.”
“What do you think?”
“Could you please stop talking to me? I’m trying to read.”
“Oh......okay.......................................................I’ve had other amusement park dreams, you know.”
“Good.”
“Can I tell you about another one?”
“Whatever.”
“I'm always at the same park, and I always know where to go when I'm there; but when I am awake, I can't really picture what it looks like and I can't navigate it in my mind like I could, say...Cedar Point. You know what I mean?”
“I think so...”
“Well, the park if right off this interstate that has lots of ramps and exits and there is this one little shop right down the street that we always go to before we get to the park. It feels so familiar to me. There is never anyone there and it seems so out of place, but we always go there. It is dark, has wooden floors, walls, and ceiling and the outside has a boardwalk of some sort. We always look at the beach towels...”
“What does this have to do with the amusement park?”
“Sorry...I got sidetracked.”
“Could you get to the point? I'd like to get back to my book.”
“Fine. In this dream I was alone and looking for the group of people I was with when I saw that my favorite ride had no line! I ran over to get on and I was the only person on the whole train. It was a very strange feeling and I did not enjoy the ride as much by myself. I was worried that the ride would malfunction or something, but everything turned out fine and I kept riding it over and over. I couldn't resist getting on that ride since it had no line.”
“Interesting.”
“Really??”
“Not really. Can I get back to my book now?”
“Yeah, but talking about these dreams made remember so many others that I have had at this amusement park.”
“Well, why don't you go write them down so you don't forget them?”
“That's a good idea...”

Scrabble Wars

"36 points? You're kidding! Mom, you sure you counted right?"
"I'm sure."
"Here...have somemore wine."
"My glass is full, and it's your turn......"
"OK, OK. I got nothin' but garbage to work with here."
"Kelly! Fuckit is not a word!"
"Yeah it is."
"No it's not. Here's the dictionary.....show me....."
"Fine! Give me a minute."
"Take your time."
"You dating anybody lately?"
"Maybe."
"Why? Men are all such assholes, and you're too old for sex anyway. So, why bother?"
"I'm not too old for....."
"Gross......Ma!"
"Well, you brought it up."
"I'm just gonna trade in my tiles...you go."
"T R A P......seven points. How are you and Tim doing?"
"He is such a pain in my ass!"
"You two still fighting a lot?"
"Kinda. He's moving in in March."
"What????"
"Yeah, well, gotta see if we can live together first."
"But you said......."
"Is forplay OK?"
"What????"
"F O R P L A Y.....Ma. The word forplay."
"That's not how you spell it!"
"Yeah well, it uses up all seven of my tiles. Gives me bonus points."
"Where'd you put the wine bottle?"

Official New Assignment

OK...I guess I have the heads up to post the new assignment. A piece based on pure dialog as suggested in the previous post. Lets make the deadline Christmas. I'm gonna need all the time I can get to put something on paper this time.

New assignment suggestion

I wondered what it would be like to do a complete "Dialog only" piece. Could be anything: a couple having dinner together, a phone call from a college kid to home, two friends at a bar, an interview, etc etc. From serious to funny to. But pure dialog.
Not sure I can do this myself but what the heck.
Flutterby

Homeless Beavers / Indian Blue Water / Clarence Thomas Speaks

Just a few more days and it's on to a new topic. Thought I'd give'r one lost college try. If you have any more "stories" to add, now's the time.

Madison, Wisconsin - Homeless beavers to get room and board in governor’s mansion

A family of homeless Vietnamese Hmongs in Steven’s Point took up residence in what was thought to be an abandoned beaver hut. Upon the beaver’s return to their home, Wisconsin Governor Jim Doyle requested the DNR place the beaver family in the Joseph McCarthy guest room of the governor’s mansion until the Hmong family can build their own hut.

New Delhi, India – Purple water in India makes crowd green with envy.

(Crowd noise.) "AHHH! Oh -look at the pretty colors! AHHH!" In their efforts to quell an unruly mob in New Delhi, the Indian Police (IP) turned water cannons on a crowd of protesters using purple-colored water instead of regular water, while synchronizing their water blasting to Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze”. Previous testing in prison holding cells had shown that the use of colored water makes prisoners more docile, thus, easier to subdue.

Washington, DC - Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas still can’t speak

Justice Clarence Thomas, who has failed to utter a single word from the bench since February 22, 2006, revealed he has a rare disease whereby nodes have formed on his vocal chords and larynx, rendering him unable to speak. When asked why he didn’t make this information public two years ago, Justice Thomas wrote on a legal pad, I COULDN’T TALK AND NO ONE ASKED ME. He was then asked why he didn’t utilize paper and pen earlier. Justice Thomas wrote, I DIDN’T THINK OF THAT.

Honk if you love dit

okay okay! I'm a nerd!

Gene Mix Up

Genetic engineers working at a high security lab in Geneva today admitted a
mix up of DNA between two donor cultures.
Dr. Herman Xerbothe, noted Nobel prize winner in 1996, admitted that
two distinctly separate vials of DNA from deceased donor, became inexplicably merged under bizarre circumstances.

"I didn't recognize it at first, but the donors samples were from the same Nationality.
Diametrically opposed philosophies at their base level, left alone, it presented a strange
attraction. The vials were in cryogenic suspension in separate buildings, but one one fateful
day, each vial was pulled and a small sample was taken to be rendered at just above the
freezing point of water."

Neither team of researchers knew of the others sampling proceedure.
The lab booths were some 300 meters apart from one another.

Xerbothe continues., "There was some decorum for the sample study on this date
pertaining to certain possible spectral characteristics of the DNA. Light analysis is becoming
more stylish at the cellular level as of late. Records illustrate that both samples were pulsed
by wide spectrum light at around noon of that day."

The question of how both samples appeared on the same lunch cart a half an hour later is
left unanswerable by both lab chiefs and food service.

"It's like the Manhattan Project losing a pound of Plutonium in a salad bar somewhere in
Los Angeles.", Commented Dept. of Death specialist for the NSA, Steven Bag.

Regardless, the event occurred and the vials, one lettered (E), the other (H), didn't simply
continue forward in isolated proximity.

Xerbothe., "At some point the vials were mistaken for salad dressings and added to the
salad of Kurt Russell, actor, who was visiting his daughter, an employee of this
laboratory. It went unoticed for weeks. The lab techs simply reaquired more samples
and went forward with a new set of analysis."

It wasn't until Kurt began experiencing incredible night visions of appocolyptic magnitude,
that an effort was made to trace the source of the problem.

"Look, we simply brought him in here and sat him down. It was very awful, the most awful
day I can remember. But, you try to explain that you have been made host to the raw
genetic matter of Albert Einstein and Adolf Hitler. Kurt just had a complete shit-fit.
So aloof from the Semitic and Anti-Semitic issues from the past, he was simply floored."

"God-damn, I've always prided myself on my detachment of politics and philosophy,
how in creation did I get cooked up together with these two extreme polarities?',"
Kurt explained.

His daughter, who has since resigned in disgust, claims that mankind has become the
penultimate tool.

Kurt, who has moved forward, reflects that this has become a useful asset to his
eccelectic acting career.

The Geneva Genetics Lab has been as of late, partying hot spots for
the likes of David Hasselhoff and Paris Hilton.

This is the BBC, London.

BOTOX patients on the decline

Medical doctors reported yesterday an over-all average drop in Botox treatments world wide.
"This is surprising," says plastic surgeon/dermatologist Micky Poresy, "because just a few years ago I had a waiting list of women craving the live strains of the botulism bacteria injected directly into their faces to combat wrinkles. Its been quite a shocker for me to find my waiting room half-empty."
"You should see all the Botulism vials I have in backstock!" said another noted New York dermatologist Hinkle Rider
Many doctors think the bad economy is the main factor at play, but further research is being done on why women's interest is waning.

Peter's Pickled Peppers

Madame Pfeiffer pickled a peck of pickled peppers with her son Peter last week.
"I taught Peter how to pickle a peck of peppers over his fall break. It was something we could do together."
She went on to explain that when Peter got home from school the following week, he wanted help writing a 'what I did over fall break' essay for his English composition class. She suggested he write it on his pickling peppers experience.
"But I didn't know his teacher would call the house charging my son with forgery," she said.
Mrs. Popsdale, 7th grade English composition teacher wanted that Peter bring in a peck of his pickled peppers as proof.
"She saw the jar of pickled peppers," said Peter,"and almost choked. It was like she totally forgot that people actually pickle peppers anymore."
He said she proceeded to open the jar to try the peppers, licking her fingers, and announcing to the class that 'Peter's pickled peppers were pickled to perfection.'
He got an A.

This Ones for You Sue

Just have to share my new Ditalini Press catch phrase. I know how Susan loves words.

" The Ditalini Press....No Rules.....Just Write!"

OK gag me

Hai-Poo Movement Gains Turf

A rare glimpse into the inner workings of Ditalini Press was observed at an afternoon gala held at the Historic Peabody House. The gathering did double-duty as the newly published first-in-a-series Hai-Poo: Hidden Gems was celebrated and the monthly workshop Hai-Poo: Let’s Get Going was inaugurated. The library conference space was figuratively likened unto a water closet, as modern-day 'Hai-Poo Movement' founder K.Grace addressed the curiosity seekers. "Hai-poo can be no less described as a phenomenon. Take the two most fascinating subjects: poetry and poop, and watch as they elevate one another to new heights.”

Hai-Poo has recently re-emerged as a viable art form. The first Hai-Poo is feared forever lost, but other fragments have been found in diverse pockets of heretofore unexplored terrain.

K.Grace is the world’s undisputed H’Poo Master, humbly proferring a wealth of well-rounded knowledge. "Hai-Poo is a specialized form of poetry that stems from unknown origins. Haiku, we know, can be dated back ten centuries. And poop . . . well, do we need a time line? It's as ancient as the sun. Hai-Poo may seem new, but it's timeless: a celebration of life, words and wisdom." She put forth a Hai-Poo sample -

don't shake his left hand
do you not see it is brown?
he had no paper

As they spiraled with initial tentative phrasing, Number 2 pencils in hand and Sani-Wipes at the ready, K.Grace exhorted her new crop of cohorts, “When properly marinated, the melding of poop and haiku is seamless . . . full of life . . . and fun for all ages!"

Aunt Sue, warming to her role as co-facilitator, spoke next. “I’d like to offer just one specimen of a dozen Hai-Poo I have under my belt to date. Whether or not I’ll produce another is anyone’s guess.”

ice cream indulgence
buff basinscape rendezvous
freshly pebbled path

“Where do you get your inspiration?” Henry 'Hank' Jamison called out.

Aunt Sue responded, “For me, the word Hai-Poo itself inspires, invites, even insists on jargonistic double-speak. After incorporating the 5-7-5 challenge, I sit back and let nature take its course.”

K.Grace nodded knowingly. “I believe there is a Hai-Poo Muse who moves in and out of the trees of the mind, usually just out of reach. But every now and then she comes near and sings a beautiful melody."

Sally Wharton looked strained. “I wonder how often I’ll get the urge to write Hai-Poo. . . if ever?”

“When it comes to this style of poetry, K.Grace is the only one I know who has achieved any sort of regularity. She has more entries in Hai-Poo: Hidden Gems than any of us, but we are all contributors,” Aunt Sue beamed, looking proudly to the other members of Ditalini Press. Then picking up poncho and pocketbook, she left abruptly, stating simply, “I gotta go.”

“A ‘pressing matter’, no doubt,” cracked flush-faced attendee Ron Smolders. “Hey, that just popped – I mean ‘plopped’ - into my head! Am I getting the hang of this or what!”

At day’s end, K.Grace reminded everyone, "Hai-Poo can be quite enigmatic. At times it flows forth as easy as a river . . . but some days it can be puzzling to write.” The idea is to gently keep pushing until achieving the desired outcome.

One participant summed up the workshop experience neatly, “It’s been like a breath of fresh air!”

Note: All love and thanks to K.Grace for collaboration on this bit of silliness!

Nintendo Fans Skeptical of "New Look" Mario

Washington (DP) -- With anticipation rising for the next generation Wii console, Nintendo fans got an unexpected first glimpse of what is in store for the beloved Mario character. In a leaked photo that has generated much interest among internet gaming sites, fans can see a Mario that has been given more detail than ever before.

With this new iteration of Mario, he sports the same trademark red hat with an "M" on it, brown hair, black moustache, and an abnormally large and bulbous nose. Mario's basic appearance has changed little over the years. What has changed is the attention to detail, and the designers at Nintendo making Mario look more like a human and less like a cartoon.

The reaction has not been very positive among the Nintendo faithful. "To be honest, it kind of creeps me out. When I first saw it, I peed a little" said longtime Nintendo fan boy Ryan Simpson of Bellevue, Washington. Sarah Shepherd, a long time Mario fan from Renton, Washington stated, “I have played Mario games since the first Super Mario Bros. for the NES and after seeing this picture I am afraid this will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.”

The Mario character was created by legendary game designer Shigeru Miyamoto. As Nintendo's long time mascot, Mario has appeared in more than 200 video games since his inception. In 1981, Mario first appeared in the arcade game Donkey Kong as a carpenter named "Jumpman" according to Nintendo of America. In Japan, he was known as "Mr. Video Game". Mario is depicted as a short, pudgy, Italian plumber who lives in the Mushroom Kingdom, where he is regarded as a hero; he is best known for constantly trying to rescue Princess Peach from the evil clutches of King Bowser.

Mario has gone through many transformations over the years, most notably when he first entered into 3D gaming in Super Mario 64. The reaction at that time was well received by the public and Super Mario 64 is still hailed by many critics to be one of the greatest video game experiences of all time. Time will tell whether this latest Mario installment will grab the hearts and minds of the gaming community.

The still to be named next generation Wii style system will include many upgrades; including enhanced graphics presented in HD for the first time, and processing speeds surpassing those of the Playstation 3. "We wanted to take advantage of the power of the new system and give Mario a more realistic look." said Shigeru Miyamoto, creator of Mario. Asked if there was anything he would change about his new Mario, Miyamoto said, “No, but I did consider giving him some more ear hair. Miyamoto added, "If you think this is bad, just wait until you see what we did with Luigi."

Masochistic Rabbits Deem Animal-Friendly Companies "No Fair."

Perl Wimble, chief executive of the LabPox network of chemical corporations in the United States, has recently organized meetings with laboratory department managers to discuss how to handle an unusual flux in willing varmint participation. "We can only test so many animals at a time. We can't increase the number of holding cells and straps unless we hired on more testers, which requires a steady supply of new test market ingredients that we just don't have. The 'Green' movement has put our labs in a static state. We're turning hares away and they're mutilating themselves in protest." During Wimble's visit last week to the Memphis area labs he discovered rabbit skins strewn across the walkway where his employee's enter and leave the building. One witness claimed "[she] literally watched as the crazed rodents skinned each other with sharp rocks, and situated their skins in front of the lab entrance..." Another witness, Shiela McNickels who works two buildings down remembered distinctly "an eerily quiet morning and a hint of blood in the air."
Wimble has plans to develop a monitoring system that will help track, capture, and tranquilize these demented cottontails. "We're also meeting soon with a new pharmaceutical/makeup conglomerate. This would be a lucrative opportunity for us which would require massive animal testing to meet FDA requirements. It'll be great having these furry little punks at our disposal...and knowing they're getting a twisted pleasure out of it makes the work we do all that much more worthwhile."

Naked Mother Theresa Chip / Game Feast Fridays @ PETA / Bill Maher NOT Bill Maher?

Leeds, England – Restaurateur finds naked Mother Theresa chip

A Leeds restaurant owner discovered a chip in his kitchen which resembled a nude Mother Theresa, with one twist…the chip has a penis. When news leaked to The Vatican that the chip was placed on Ebay for sale, the Holy See issued a cease and desist order, demanding the chip be removed from the Internet under threat of excommunication. A Vatican spokesperson stated the entire incident could have been avoided had the Mother Theresa chip been anatomically correct. When asked for his thoughts on the matter, the Pope, who was out walking in the woods, said "poop".

Los Angeles, CA – Bill Maher admits he’s not Bill Maher

Talk show host and political pundit Bill Maher issued a statement Thursday that his real name is not Bill Maher, but Lane Maher, Bill Maher’s twin brother. Lane, a former strip club DJ and one-time psychiatric patient at the McLean Hospital in Belmont, Massachusetts, said he’s been masquerading as his brother Bill since the debut of Politically Incorrect on Comedy Central in 1993. Lane went on to say that his brother – the real Bill Maher – is a member of the Roman Catholic missionary organization, White Fathers, which is based in Africa, and has taken a strict vow of silence for the last 10 years. When tracked down for his reaction to his brother Lane’s revelation, Bill replied, “It’s true. I’ve been sil…sonofabitch!”

Norfolk, Virginia – PETA holds “Casual Fridays” featuring wild game feast buffet

Ingrid Newkirk, international president of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) stated the alarmingly decreasing numbers of vegan staff members has prompted her to institute a “casual Fridays” at PETA headquarters, whereby a catered wild game feast buffet featuring venison, rabbit and wild pheasant is provided at lunch to give staffers a break from eating vegetables, tofu and imitation brats and hamburgers. One staff member quipped, “You know I never thought I’d say this but even the rabbit tastes like chicken.”

- Special thanks to Richard Le Breton

Beard Competitor Found Cheating

Arthur Stubble was found cheating during a local "No-shave-November" contest in which the contestants attempt to outgrow each other's beards.  

Stubble's wife, who dislikes the competition, found him applying a hair-growing serum to his face.  "I just couldn't stand it anymore," she said.  "Just growing a beard was bad enough, but cheating?  That was just too barbaric."  

The serum was created by research scientist Austin Chin, who claims that his serum was only meant to enable men to grow beards who weren't able to before.  "I had no idea that it could be used to cheat somehow," he said.  

Stubble was disqualified, but the competition was hairy.  Hans Whiskers was declared the winner.  "I won by the breadth of a hair," he said.  "It was a really close shave." Photographs of the winners can be found online here.

Editor's Note: All characters in this article are fictitious, as is the competition in "No-Shave-November."  The World Beard and Moustache Competition and "No-Shave-November" itself are real.

New Years Polenta Assault

The traditional New Years day Polenta dinner at the Calzone family turned into a meatball massacre, when a careless guest tried to spear a meatball from the center of the Polenta board.
Not having been educated in the proper rules of Polenta board etiquette, Ms Smith, of Parma, unwittingly committed the ultimate faus pas. After consuming the meatball in front of her, she casually reached for another which rested approximately one foot toward the center of the board. Any Italian knows that one must eat their way to the next meatball, never reaching across the Polenta for one.


From out of nowhere Papa Calzone sprang at her with a fork, in an attempt, to teach her the finer points of Italian tradition. Narrowly missing her hand, he harpooned the meatball to the Polenta board. Chaos ensued. Needless to say, the hapless guest, headed for the nearest exit.


When asked why she did not call 911 regarding the assault, she simply said, "I've seen all the Godfather movies and have no desire to wake up one morning with a bloody meatball under my sheets!"

Sad Play Causes Big Stink Among Elderly

Diapers were flying last Tuesday evening during Detroit's 5th annual "Play In The Dark", put on by Whimsey Bros. playhouse. The debut show, "Two Silk Scarves and a Woolen Mitten" by proctologist turned playwright Morgan Tweedling opened to a full house, but all quickly turned to mayhem as the elderly demographic in the audience "commenced to rip bits of diaper from their bundled rears and sop up their wet faces," Tweedling reported.
As 74 year old Dorothia Wunderlich put it, "The tears were streaming. 'Two Silk Scarves' was reminiscent of my childhood days. We found no tissues, so we reached down at our asses."
Tweedling's concerns went beyond a mismanaged play. "It extends deep. I guess my heart is still in proctology because my frustration lies in the thought of raw torn diaper rubbing against the thin and mottled skin of those aged rectums. Not to mention the diaper-to-face "shit-eye" some of them must have contracted. But that's for an optometrist."
Detroit clean-up crews worked overnight and well into Wednesday, mopping up the proverbial shitstorm.

Pohling Pulls Plug on Online Poll

“I just wanted it to stop! It was fun for years and years, then one day I realized I had an endless loop of the grainy video tape playing in my head over and over and over,” Mitchell Pohling reflected. “I remembered that The Neverending Story was written by Michael Ende, so I wondered, what if he changed the last letter of his last name from ‘e’ to ‘s’? You know, set up a vibrational pattern allowing at least the possibility of a conclusion. The Neverending Story Ends. So, yeah, I set up the online poll, you know, to see how the public might feel about it. The results were surprising. I never meant to deceive anyone, though. When I found out that Ende died way back in 1995, I pulled the plug on the poll right away. It’s just too late. A posthumous name-change is never gonna happen.”

Pohling, ever-ready to share his opinion, is a certified survey addict. Hoping for telemarketers, he keeps the phone line clear during the dinner hour, seeks out clipboard-totin' aggressive types at the mall, and dreams of someday joining the Gallup guard. An election year is pure heaven.

“Oh yeah, and another thing,” Pohling added. “Seems Michael Ende had some interesting ideas of looking at the world, money-wise, that is. How about The Neverending Prosperity? Would that be a story to see again and again? Vote 'Yes' or 'No' on my new online poll . . ."

Jello 1-2-3 Causes Riot

The Higgledy-Piggledy Market of Macon, GA saw a near riot last week when the last known case of Jello 1-2-3 was spotted on a stocker’s pallet in Aisle Eight. Jostling for position, Wanda Stephens called out, “I’ll buy the whole case, y'all – I saw it first!” She was soon outmaneuvered ‘quicker than a 1-2-3’ by Kimmy Potter who waxed nostalgic as she elbowed Wanda aside, “My Mom always made this for me – it was my favorite!” Within minutes security personnel responded, dispersing the clamorous crowd.

Made popular in the ‘70s and edged off grocery shelves in '96, Jello 1-2-3 was a fun dessert snack that separated into three layers upon setting, the topmost layer pure fluff. This reporter remembers her sister surviving on the stuff during a bout with mono in ‘72. A Boomer-groundswell of support for this triple-treat may see a ‘new and improved’ version before year’s end.

Manager Floyd Beckheiser, seen hugging the case of 24 on the way to the safe, bragged, “This is pure gold! We’ll be posting this baby on Ebay!” Early estimates suggest the bidding will far exceed the symbolic opening price of $1.23.

Writer Bite: Julie Andrews Collection

At the present time The Julie Andrews Collection is mainly interested in middle grade chapter books and young adult novels. Manuscript submission info is found at . . .

http://www.harperchildrens.com/julieandrews/catalog/moreinfo.asp

Writer Bite: Work for Smithmag!

Editorial Internship available at Smithmag - home of the famous six-word memoirs!

http://www.smithmag.net/editorial-internship/

Writer Bite : Get out your forks!

Hello again...look to the previous post below for the new assignment due Friday November 14th.

I'm going to start something called "writer bites" that we can all take part in. The concept is that of sharing writing or writer related tips, techniques, contests, etc. For instance, if I came across a poetry contest and thought you might want to participate then I would title it Writer Bite: Christmas Poetry Contest...just so everyone would know what it pertained to. Does this sound ok with you all? If you have a better idea, then pa leez suggest it! We can add a new writer bite at any time, and as often as we'd like. They can also be book reviews! Or author highlights...or secrets in the publishing world. Whatever you find interesting, or what you think might be essential info for us all to know.

Here is the first writer bite for DP:

The NanoWrimo Competition started November 1st, but you can still participate if you want to! This is a free 'competition' for the month of November only. NanoWrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month...

If you're thinking, "What? Write a novel in one month?"

To that I say, "Sure, why not?"

Check out the site if you're interested. The idea is to write 50,000 words by November 30th at midnight. There are no prizes awarded, other than the gratification of having committed to such a worthy project. And note: this is meant to be a FUN thing, and in no way should you edit your writing as you go...just write and let your imagination take you away. Do not critique yourself, leave that for the month of December. Create an outline first if you want to, to help create a foundation...but other than that leave it up to your muses to guide you. You can write fiction, non-fiction, sci-fi, humor, abstract...it doesn't matter. It's mainly to help develop your writing muscle, and meet deadlines.

If the site is down, keep trying. There must be a ton of participants this year...which is exciting! There have been authors with books eventually published from things they'd written during the Nano project. Like the book, "When Elephants Weep". Sign up, create an account...this is going to be fun!

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

This Just In: Newest DP Assignment !

Hello friends ... family,
Our next assignment should utilize humor. If you don't want yours to be funny then it can be serious. No worries.
Take a topic from your imagination and create a news article about it. Write the headline, and the body of the article. It doesn't have to be long, as a matter of fact, this assignment can be completely up to you as far as how much you write. You can write one, or ten funny headlines if you want - and leave out the body of the article entirely. Or you can write one long and serious article...whatever goes, goes. Here is an example of one I wrote the other day. Please bear with me! LOL. Inspired by the kind of writing done for The Onion. Visit their site if you want to search the archives of articles they have:
http://www.theonion.com/content/archives/30/838872000/1225512000


Wiccan Landlord Accepts Only Moon Purified Rent Money

Several tenants of an East Chicago duplex have reported that their landlady has not been accepting checks or money orders now that she has become a Wiccan. The Illinois native, Kattie 'Crowfeather' Willemson, claims she can't process them because her bank sits in a 'cosmically congested' part of town. As of three months ago, she accepts cash only - as long as it's been purified by the moon. Community college student Chad McGibbons says "It's frustrating...so many of us are students. We've got jobs, exams, families and friends. I don't know about the phases of the moon and if it's 9% crescent." Willemson has reserved her garden, named Gaia, for the tenants to perform the ritual. "I think it's weird," McGibbons told reporters. "My friend's think I'm nuts to actually follow along...but I gotta say the apartment is really nice. And Miss Willemson makes a mean cabbage soup."

Marble Mind: Synopsis Written for Agent

When I was seven, I wrote this synopsis under my pseudonym A.G. Moore as if I were going to send it out to an agent or something. Ha!


Marble Mind

"This story is about a young girl who has a mom and dad that die from a disease and she has to go to an orphanage and one night she has a dream of her mom and dad playing marbles on a bridge of dust with mist all over, she couldn't move her feet like she was stuck in a mudhole full of snakes pulling her down so hard she kept falling, it was driving her crazy because she kept seeing her mom and dad dancing together in slow motion and she was hearing train's whistles in her ears. She finally woke up and went to the front porch and she went walking. She hated the orphanage, she had to run away fast, so she ran in her long dress. She finally stopped in fear and confusion, she took a breath and rubbed her eyes. She felt something tugging on her dress behind her. She looked back and saw her dad crying, falling deep into the sand, grabbing and pulling him down. She stood in silence as she watched tears fall down his eyes. She didn't know if it was a dream but it was already too late. he was gone, FOREVER.

I recommend me for an author. Thank You
A.G. Moore"

Special Extra Women's article from "Home Life" Magazine

This is a rough-draft article I wrote, but didn't submit, for the "Home Life magazine" article assignment:

Women: What to do When Things Get Stale at Home

Let's face it, Ladies, seeing your husband do the same thing day in and day out would bore anyone stiff! So how does one bring a little of the unexpected, variety, back to one's threshold? I've come up with some helpful Home Life Exclusive tips:
Tip one: start organizing old drawers. In feng-shui terms, this gets the stagnant energy flowing, but I like this tip because it gets my hubby talking. You'll find all kinds of old movie ticket stubs, train tickets, fliers, calenders, general ephemera that reminds you that this man you're living with had a past, was independent, and interesting.
Tip two: Get a dog. With the passage of time, when a man's attention is somewhere else, and nowhere in your general direction, a dog is always there to fill the void. I'm sure we've all felt a little transparent to our mates. A dog is always excited to see us.
Tip three: Get much exercise in the fresh air, You'll feel invigorated and feel so good in your body that even the most irritating traits of your husband will diminish.
Tip four: Make lofty plans and outlandish dreams that you both can get excited about (if only for an afternoon) Try to generate a vibrant future together. Talk of tales of mystery and imagination, after all, anything is more stimulating than preparing meals, setting the table, and keeping house.
Tip five: Take up musical instruments that compliment each other. This could be great fun. Write some lyrics, do some duets, play free-style compositions, just dedicate some personal time to getting a grasp on an instrument. The rewards are untold and you'll be creating something together. Yes, Ladies, it's called beautiful music!
Tip six: Get a hard job. Get hired on working at something you really despise, something really demanding. Any time off you have, you'll cherish more, including your partner, who will suddenly have more charm than ever.
Tip seven: We love frightfully strong those things which we are subject to losing. Therefore, scaring your husband or threatening him with scenarios where you could be "lost" whether to other men, to an out of country job, or to a near-death accident could evoke some strong, loving emotions. What we're going for here, Ladies, is a jolt out of his heavy cloud of indifference. While playing these games seems tacky, they sometimes are the only way to feel anything at all.
Tip eight: Read in bed together. Before you turn out the lights, take turns reading pages from a book one of you picks out. You might learn something new about the world and each other.
Tip nine: Get all wrapped up together in a t.v. series. The characters, the stories, the emotions are all transporting. Entertaining diversions can help one to forget monotonous, lusterless daily life.
Tip ten: Remember, Ladies, to be adored, one must be adorable!

SNORTFACE TOUR

Something I wrote 35 years ago.
I never took drugs.


Snortface Tour

as told to awe strickened audiences.......

Old men trudged down the burnt cracked sidewalk. Piles of wounded sneezersnouts lay
beside a fresh crater and yelps of some pained creature fan out in the air. The hollow tubes
that plunge underground belch some acrid organic stench. We think that the gorillas have been dumping cadavers into them. Nearby we have an old crusty man sitting on a pile of rusting
engines who is licking stained sheets of paper that he has been dipping in slimy oil. I approach
him and he stops most suddenly to warn me of protruding snortfaces. He slobber some
black druil and accidently papercuts his sneezersnout. Then a horrible tantrum is set forth and
he bites some rotting rubber hose and begins to rub grits on his bristling sneezeersnout. Quickly
we leave and pass by a pack of hunchies, it was funny, they were all just bumping into each other
falling down and digging their lips out with tree trunks.

Finally we come the the village of Sneer, sneezersnouts are very wrinkled here. Sniffing us
through wheezy barrels of a snout with long hisses of breath, the village sneer seer inspected
our arrival. He thumped his sneezersnout with a hollow empty bonk, pulled up some long
hanging skin from his grey snout and showed us his beak-like teeth. Such an honor to please us
was his actions. Sneezersnout children were playing behind rocks pushing their sneezersnouts
through the dirt with sad eyes. Mother sneezersnout, anxious to call in the children, starts to
sandpaper her sneezersnout so she can call them in.

Some youngster comes running down the granite dusty road and he has a locust trapped
in his sneezersnout, which makes it look like a venturi opening. He just passes us staring at
the grass like he is starving to death. My gosh! Another bomb hit us and we can see that it
landed by a poor lazy snoozing man. We heard the blast adn looked over to see the poor guy
chucking his sneezersnout in the crater. It just went, -yelp-yelp-yelp, and hopped over
bleeding and blackened.

We headed for the mountains early in the morning not aware of what we might find. Miles
and days of travels we came on some strange nature. We were just passing over some bridge
by muddy banks and as soon as we looked over the railing we glimpsed some horrible snortface.
He just peeked at us for a moment with his bulging saucer eyes and hammered up
sneezersnout before he sank back into the mud. We shivered and recoiled as we saw him. We
crossed the bridge and stepped into the deep forest of skinny trees, then strange echoes began issuing around the forest. It had to be the nut-plungers far off in the distance. Sharp 'oohs' and
'aahs' could be heard as we progressed on. Then finally the sounds were very intense and as
we peered through the brush we could see furry baboon goons dipping their nuts into an ice
cold stream of water.

Out of the forest, we climbed a wall of crevices. Only something was a little wrong. The air
smelled funny and we sensed somebody else around. Then in a terrible manner, a prime
snortface peeked out from behind a crevice knawing on roots to scare us. More sniffing
snortfaces ducked from behind rocks banging their sneezersnouts with logs and stones. One
snortface began tearing the nostrils from his sneezersnout and threw chunks of whiskery meat
at our heads. Then a snortface came at us with astroturf sewed to his chin and bit us with his
cowiring breath. We ran away and watched a snortface fall out of a tree. He just came down
hitting limbs and parts of his blubbery snout were breaking off. He hit the ground making a slow
splosh sound landing on its snortface, then it got up like a pancake with a humpy expression
and hopped away from us with a coarse humming sound trapped in its mashed sneezersnout.

We agreed to chase down the snortface. Later we captured it and threw it into some
sticker bushes. It made a gaging sound and got caught right in the middle of a big patch of
stickers. It fluttered like a dieing fish while its eyes were fixed on staring at us with an
expression of an old man fluttering like a mashed toad. Well, it finally got all of it's sneezersnout
ripped off from struggling around so much in the stickers, then it just flopped over like loose skin
and hissed out groans. We picked up his sneezersnout by a loose lip and chucked it into the
weeds.

Twice Told

I found this while I was digging through a box full of stuff from my old room. It is from a journal that I had to write for English class in high school. Based on some of the other journal entries, I think it was my junior year. I don't remember writing this; I thought my post, Shift Into Dream, here on the Ditalini Press was the first time I wrote about this dream. I got a kick out of it when I found it and I thought I would share it with all of you. I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize that it is basically a repost of a story I have already told.

There is a dream that I had when I was about three or four that I think I will always remember. I was at some kind of amusement park with my parents and there were hot air balloons. I wanted to go on a balloon ride so bad, but my parents would not let me go. I was extremely upset because I could not go on a balloon ride. So I took it upon myself to get on a balloon all by myself. I thought if I got in, my parents would get in and they would like it so much that they would want to stay. So I got in the basket that was attached to the balloon, and the balloon started to go up. Remember that I was only about three in this dream and I could not have operated the balloon all by myself. I needed the help of an adult. So far my dream has been a little bit mild, and someone might think why in the world would you remember a dream like this? The next part of my dream will hopefully explain why this dream is etched into my memory.
I was going up in the hot air balloon and I started to cry, I wanted to stop going up, I wanted my parents to be with me. I was sure that they would somehow stop the balloon and bring me back down to safety. While I was crying I looked down to the ground to see if anyone was trying to stop the balloon. No one was trying to stop it. All I saw was my parents laughing and waving to me like they were glad that I was leaving. Even though they saw that I was crying they kept the smiles on their faces, and kept waving. They kept getting smaller and smaller, and when they were almost totally out of sight, I woke up.
I was sleeping on my back, and as my eyes opened it looked as if there were clouds on the ceiling. The clouds faded away, and my mom was in the room with me folding laundry. When she saw that I was awake she looked over at me and smiled.

My "Holey" Uncle

     My Uncle has always been interested in the earth.  His uncle Roger sent him a book for Christmas every year, and these books were usually about geology.  Leo doesn't know why they were about geology, but he always found the books extremely interesting.  His fascination in the earth was often manifested by his digging around, where he discovered neat things.  

     His first digging adventure occurred at the age of four or five when he was digging with a soppn in his front yard by the sidewalk.  He found something.  "I didn't know what it was, just a little nodule of some sort."  He brought it inside and set it on the radiator in the kitchen.  As it turns out, it was a grasshopper egg case.  When it warmed up on the radiator, all the grasshoppers hatched!  What made matters worse, the kitchen floor was an old linoleum with little specks on it.  "You could drop a piece of toast on the kitchen floor and lose it," he said.  All the practically invisible baby grasshoppers started hopping around the kitchen and into the rest of the house.

     He kept digging as he grew older.  He decided to dig a bomb shelter in the crawl-space of their house.  He had an electric light on an extension cord so he coulc see as he dug.  "The dirt was real hard, it's like clay when you get just down beneath the surface of the topsoil.  It's just solid clay, really hard to dig because there's no toom with the floor joists above your head.  But it was fun," he says.  Years later a mechanic came to fix the dryer vent and had to do a bit of work in the crawlspace.  He went down below, and after a couple minutes came up and said to my grandmother, "Lady, do you know there's a big hole underneath your house?"  It is still there to this day.

     My uncle soon started another hole in one corner of the backyard.  He says it was about six feet deep and roughly four feet across.  He found some near tocks and was amazed to find earthworms down there, six feet down in the solid clay.  He put a 2x6 board across "the hole," as it was named, to help prevent people from falling in.  It didn't work too well.  His younger sister tried to ride a tricycle across the board, and she fell into the hole.  He was forced to fill it in, "But, I put a cigar box down there, and I put in some trinkets.  I couldn't even tell you what I put in there, maybe a dime and who knows what else."  He was about ten or twelve.

     After these adventures, Leo moved on from the books given to him by his uncle, to those required by his professors.  He went on to get his Master's degree in Geology.  He now knows that the clay he had to dig through is termed "Glacial till," because it was deposited by the glaciers in the ice age.  He no longer has time for digging holes, but still enjoys finding rocks, identifying plants, and learning about the world around him.  

I Miss Arkansas

Thanks all of you for the opportunity to post along with you. There is so much talent here and Susan.....well....she's just awesome.

I Miss Arkansas
Sometimes I miss Arkansas. That tiny cabin built of logs and stone, and filled to the brim with the love and gentleness of my grandma and grandpa. I remember the smell of grandpas pipe, the warmth of a crackling fire, the twinkle in his eye as I sat on his lap and listened to his stories. I can almost hear the constant chirp of the crickets and the occasional sweet call of the whippoorwill. Almost see the flash of the fireflies; smell the pipe tobacco.

For two blessed weeks every year I found shelter from my fathers drunken rages and my mothers cold indifference. I received enough love those few days to carry me through the other 50 weeks of the year.

At dusk, grandpa would match his long strides to my short ones, and trust me to walk beside him as we gathered the cows from their day of grazing. He'd sit me on a wooden stool in the barn, and guide my little hands to the warm teats of a swollen udder....teaching me how to coax milk from a stubborn Guernsey. There were no harsh words, or scolding slaps. Only gentle hands and soft words guiding, teaching, lifting and encouraging me. I felt so loved and protected.

I have never since known such peace or felt such protection from life's harshness. We simply lived those two weeks enjoying the bounty of fresh meat and produce that farm work provides. Chores were done with laughter and pride. As long as one was kind and tried ones best, nothing more was asked. Perfection was not even considered , much less expected. Love was good enough. I was good enough. I never seemed to disappoint my Grandparents.

I want to be that same shelter for Boo as she goes through life. The log cabin in Arkansas is gone now, but perhaps someday Boo will look back and remember the warmth of my tiny apartment. The laughter on my balcony as we blew bubbles and did chalk drawings. The smell of popcorn in bed as we snuggled beneath the blankets watching a Disney movie.
Sometimes I miss Arkansas