Pip: Not Your Usual Fluffy Christmas Rhyme

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shop
Nothing was stirring, you could hear a pin drop.
The sleigh was not ready, the toys were not packed,
Santa was fuming and quite lacking in tact.

"Pip!" he called out to the foreman on duty,
Where is your crew? And don't act so snooty!
Pip's feelings were hurt, but he wondered the same
Were they lost? Had they left? Were they playing a game?

"Never mind!" thundered Santa, while grabbing his sack,
"We'll do it ourselves: There are toys in the back."
So into the warehouse like madmen they flew.
Santa and Pip had much packing to do.

And then, down a corridor seldom in use,
They heard something like an hysterical goose.
But no, there were words in that hideous shriek,
It was music: now Santa was prone to critique.

Santa strode to the source of that hideous din,
Closely followed by Pip, who beheld with chagrin:
Three elves and four bottles and, there on a chair,
A boom box whose music was filling the air.

Santa stood for a moment, transfixed by the sight
Then he bellowed so loudly that Pip shook with fright.
"You! Chuckles! And Bubbles! And you, mister Suds!"
Why are you carousing while in your work duds?"

The fate of that threesome Pip would not relate,
Except to recall that the hour was late:
And Santa was anxious to fly in his sleigh,
And dealt with loose ends on the following day.

(This poem appeared originally in the Loonfoot Falls Chronicle-Gazette: December 25, 2009.)

Welcome to the Lemming's world:

• "Holiday for the Lemming; or Time, Tide, and a Tired Lemming; or the Lemming Takes a Break"
  (June 6, 2014)
• "Happy New Year, 2014"
  (December 31, 2013)
• "Channel Surfing With the Lemming"
  (December 24, 2013)
• "Gingerbread, Fruitcake, and Eggnog Nightmare #2"
  (December 23, 2011)
• "Lemming Tracks: Christmas Cookies, Fruitcake, and Eggnog Nightmare #1"
  (December 24, 2010)

Out, Out, Brief Prince! Or, It's Brillig Already?!

Friday snuck up on the Lemming, or is it sneaked up? Either way, this post needs to be out several hours before brillig, come slithy toves: or Birnam Wood to Dunsinane, for that matter.

Then there's Lady Macbeth, and her odd tastes in castle decor. And what she said about that spot: shocking!

One thing seems certain, the Lemming needs more sleep.

Pretty much unrelated posts:

• "Filberts, Fardels, and a Rambling Lemming"
  (July 19, 2013)
• "Jabberwocks: A Guest Post by Narcissus-X"
  (June 11, 2010)
• "Macbeth: Or, Don't Talk to Strangers?"
  (May 26, 2010)
• "Shakespeare, Butterflies, the Gilded Age and an Actress's Shoulder Blade"
  (September 17, 2009)
• "Shakespeare Portrait: This Could be the Real Deal"
  (March 9, 2009)

Friday the 13th, Poetry, and a Rambling Lemming

First, a public service announcement. Thursday, September 19, is Talk Like a Pirate Day. Ye have been warned! Arrr!

• The Official Talk Like a Pirate Day website
  www.talklikeapirate.com

Paraskevidekatriaphobia and Prismatic Poem Parts

Friday the 13th came on a Tuesday last month, but this time it's the real deal: Friday the 13th, not just the 13th day of the month.

Not that it really matters, except for people prone to paraskevidekatriaphobia, which doesn't have much to do with parasails, although finding two Friday Special sales would be nice.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia doesn't have much to do with parrots, either, and come to think of it someone with paraskevidekatriaphobia probably wouldn't go parasailing today. That long word starting with "p" means "fear of Friday the 13th," which the Lemming doesn't have.

The Lemming doesn't have a parrot, either, or a parasail. This post was supposed to be about something besides Friday the 13th and fearful feelings, which the Lemming does occasionally have: but not about Friday the - - - oh, never mind.

Now, for no particular reason, here's a set of snippets. The Lemming likes this sort of thing. Your experience may vary.

"...And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise."
(Coleridge)

"...Till day rose; then under an orange sky
The hills had new places, and wind wielded
Blade-light, luminous black and emerald,
Flexing like the lens of a mad eye...."
(Hughes)

"...'And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away'."
(Shelley)

A Rambling Lemming Ponders Poe's Poem

How, the Lemming asks, could one ponder "many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore?" If the lore is in a volume, it's been set in writing: and can hardly be called "forgotten." Someone might forget where the book is, or how to get to the library, and folks have lost their library cards on occasion: and that's another topic, sort of.

That line is from Poe's cheerful ditty that starts with:

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, -
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door...."

"Cheerful?" What was the Lemming thinking? Never mind.

The Lemming can understand why a person with a propensity for abstruse pursuits might ponder ponderous volumes. That's how some of these posts get started.

A particularly polite person might answer a nocturnal tapping on the door. But when tapping came at the window: What was he thinking?!

Then, to top it all off, he lets the - raven? - in: and has a conversation with it.

The chap must have been particularly lonely. Or something.

For some reason, the Lemming has exhibited a propensity for words beginning with "p:" and that's yet another topic.

Time to stop. The Lemming is pooped from all that pondering.



Almost-related posts:

• "Lemming Tracks: Triskaidekaphobia and a Rambling Lemming"
  (January 13, 2012)
• "Friday the 13th: Leftovers"
  (March 13, 2009)
• "Tomorrow's Friday the 13th: First of Three in 2009"
  (February 12, 2009)
• "Dutch Statisticians: Friday the 13th is - Lucky?!"
  (June 13, 2008)
• "Paraskevidekatriaphobia? Jaw-Breaker of a Word for Fear of Friday the 13th"
  (June 13, 2008)

Wind!

---

"O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing....

"...Thou dirge

"Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might

"Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear!"

Ode to the West Wind, Percy Bysshe Shelley, via LoudLit.org

---

"...Til day rose; then under an orange sky
The hills had new places, and wind wielded
Blade-like, luminous black and emerald,
Flexing like the lens of a mad eye...."

Wind, Ted Hughes

---

"Air Pressure and Wind"
John P. Stimac, Department of Geology/Geography, Eastern Illinois University College of Sciences

"We know that standard atmospheric pressure is 14.7 pounds per square inch. We also know that air pressure decreases as we rise in the atmosphere.

"1013.25 mb = 101.325 kPa = 29.92 inches Hg = 14.7 pounds per in² = 760 mm of Hg = 34 feet of water...."

There's quite a bit more about air pressure. Quite informative, too.

Then the page turns to wind:

"...Wind results from a horizontal difference in air pressure and since the sun heats different parts of the Earth differently, causing pressure differences, the Sun is the driving force for most winds.

"The wind is a result of forces acting on the atmosphere:

1. "Pressure Gradient Force (PGF) - causes horizontal pressure differences and winds
2. "Gravity (G) - causes vertical pressure differences and winds
3. "Coriolis Force (Co) - causes all moving objects, such as air, to diverge, or veer, to the right in the Northern Hemisphere and to the left in the Southern Hemisphere.
4. "Friction (Fr) - very little effect on air high in the atmosphere, but more important closer to the ground.
5. "Centrifugal Force (Ce) - objects in motion tend to travel in straight lines, unless acted upon by an outside force.

"The Net force = PGF + G + Co + Fr + Ce...."

All of which is rather technical.

Comparisons

Which helps the reader understand wind?

The poetry?

The mathematics?

The Lemming thinks the answer is - both.

But not the same sort of understanding.

Wind in Minnesota

The Lemming, sitting by a dark window in central Minnesota, hears wind rubbing against the sky, patting the house with nebulous paws.

Vertically Challenged Persons, Four Pigs and Rudolph: Santa's a Wreck

Generally, the Lemming quotes a few paragraphs of something online, with a link to the source, opines about it, and that's the end of the post. This blog specializes in micro-reviews, after all.

This time, though, there's a clearly-stated 'fair use' declaration that came with a - seriously hilarious (in the Lemming's opinion) bit of Xmas jeer.

Now, without further ado, the Lemming presents a poem by somebody completely different:

POLITICALLY CORRECT SANTA
by (c)Harvey Ehrlich

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves",
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.

And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.

Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.

And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.

His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.

So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."

Notice: This poem is copyright 1992 by Harvey Ehrlich. It is free to distribute, without changes, as long as this notice remains intact. All follow-ups, requests, comments, questions, distribution rights, etc should be made to mduhan@husc.harvard.edu.

Found at:
"Politically Correct Santa"
Harvey Ehrlich, via Greg's CHRISTMAS Pages, kraftmstr.com/christmas (2000-2001)

If posting this poem doesn't seem very "apathetic," the Lemming explained the name of this blog elsewhere.

Finally, the Lemming thinks it's - interesting - that the author of this bit of poetic humor has a harvard.edu email address. Or did in 1992, at any rate. Harvard?! He must have had tenure - and a whole lot of clout. Or, maybe, American academia was loosening up a bit, in terms of tolerating unapproved ideas. Wouldn't have taken much.

"Nightshade" - Another Random Poem

"Nightshade – Random Twitter Poem for June 25th"
Wanderer Thoughts (June 25, 2010)

"Nightshade is a poem about alchemy or herbalism, it is a tale of a plant that grows by night and is harvested to produce a healing type of effect when imbibed...."

"...Nightshade

"Celebrate this mystical nightshade
appearance like a scruffy parsnip...."

"...absinthe liquid of absolution
healing all mortal exhaustion"

I experienced the poem itself before reading what the author had written about it. That's my habit, since I would much rather meet the poem - or movie, or book, or any creative work - before learning what the artist thought I should perceive in it.

Which is getting seriously off-topic.

Or, maybe, not.

This time, I learned that the swirl of imagery was a salute to alchemy or herbalism - appropriately, given Western civilization's perceptions of both, in this time. The mysterious, shifting 'feel' of the poem (my experience, anyway) probably explains why the last lines of Coleridge's "Kubla Kahn" came to mind while writing this post:

"...And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honeydew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise."
(from victorianweb.org)

"Wireless Singularity" - in "Failed Venture"

"Failed Venture – Random Twitter Poem for June 22nd"
Wanderer Thoughts Poetry (June 22, 2010)

"...Failed Venture is a poem dedicated to all people who buy into a sales pitch only to have their own start up or venture fail with no support. It is a poem about disappointment and the struggle of the entrepreneur who isn’t successful. Inspired by..."

"...now abandoned like a wireless singularity...."

The last two words in that line from the poem, "wireless singularity," jumped off the screen, into my head, and stayed there. Turns out, they're the first two words that Dragon Blogger put together in this poem.

It's another of his 'random' poems - which I've micro-reviewed before.

Related posts:

• "Yet Another Random Twitter Poem"
  (June 13, 2010)
• "And Now, for Something Completely Different: A Strange Poem"
  (April 28, 2010)
• " 'Eating Binge' - Yet Another Random Twitter Poem"
  (February 10, 2010)
• " 'Lucky Numbers' - Another Random Poem"
  (February 2, 2010)
• " 250th 'Random Twitter Poem' "
  (December 2, 2009)

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for the heads-up on his poem.

Yet Another Random Twitter Poem

"Failures – Random Twitter Poem for June 9th"
Wanderer Thoughts Poetry (June 9, 2010)

"Failures

"Disheartening philosophy
"of misty sarcastic perseverance
"indefinable bittersweet ambition...."

This isn't a terribly long poem - Dragon Blogger, the author, collects words for these 'Random Twitter Poems" through Twitter. On June 9th, Twitter was unusually prone to produce 'over capacity' messages when folks tried posting 'Tweets.' Frustrating: and probably accounts for the relatively small number of words supplied.

About the poem itself: This isn't, I think, going to replace the sonnets of Shakespeare in English literature. On the other hand, I've had days when I felt like that - and I think Failures does a good job of expressing a particular sort of emotional response to - I won't use the word "failure," I'll say "setbacks."

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for the heads-up on his poem.

And Now, for Something Completely Different: A Strange Poem

"It’s Okay – Random Twitter Poem for Apr 27th"
Wanderer Thoughts Poetry (April 27, 2010)

"It’s Okay is a sad poem about a depressed or hurt individual that is living with emotional pain and waiting for someone to comfort them. It is a poem about isolation and being depressed and was inspired by the 16 random entries submitted on twitter (in blue). Thanks to the following players today:..."

The poem:

"It's Okay

"No secret to being happy you hear some say
world filled with an infinity of gullible people
simple enjoyment some foreign revolutionary emotion
as realistic as a fungible salesman in real estate

"Euphony of screaming from the window
some mercurial action to ease the pain this time
sanity thin and frail like a tearing moire
laughter a delicatessen dessert sold out..."

The word "fungible" is my contribution. I wondered what Dragon Blogger would make of it. As a noun, fungible means "of goods or commodities; freely exchangeable for or replaceable by another of like nature or kind in the satisfaction of an obligation" (Princeton's WordNet)

In the context of this poem, as a sort of metaphor - I think it works.

And: I can't say that I "like" "It's Okay" the way I like Jello - but I've had days like that, and appreciate the poem.

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for putting "It's Okay" together.

From Copper Bracelets to Golden Pillars - a Poem

"Her Majesty - Poem by Dragon Blogger"
Wanderer Thoughts (February 13, 2010)

"Disclaimer: This was a sponsored post, commissioned by BillyTheTree.com. I was compensated to browse the copper bracelets and share my thoughts and opinions on their offerings. I also crafted a unique and original poem inspired by the advertisers keywords. The words and opinions are mine and mine alone.

"Her Majesty

"Adornment of bracelets
"a queen of the realm
"solid gold pillars
"thick as an elm....

I like the imagery in this poem - it isn't up there with Shakespeare's sonnets, but how many works are?

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for this poem.

"Eating Binge" - Yet Another Random Twitter Poem

"Eating Binge - Random Twitter Poem for Feb 9"
Wanderer Thoughts Poetry (February 9, 2010)

"...Eating Binge

"Unlimited tempered hunger wounds
"seeking to behead your appetite...

"...or the warble of a theremin sounding
"eating binge is finally satisfied"

It's another poem by Dragon Blogger - and a pretty good one. I've micro-reviewed several of these, I see. The poems are "random" in the sense that Dragon Blogger asks for words from folks on Twitter - and, when he's gotten a selection, writes a bit of verse around them. Sometimes getting pretty good insights into the human condition in the process. My opinion.

And, in this case, a shout-out for the theremin.

You just don't hear much about theremins these days.

Related posts:

• " 'Lucky Numbers' - Another Random Poem"
  (February 2, 2010)
• "250th 'Random Twitter Poem' "
  (December 2, 2009)
• "Another 'Random' Poem"
  (October 27, 2009)
• "13 - or is it 11? - 'Random' Words Inspire a Poem"
  (October 16, 2009)
• "And Now, for Something Completely Different: a Strange Poem"
  (July 27, 2009)

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for this 'random poem'.

"Lucky Numbers" - Another Random Poem

"Lucky Numbers"
Wanderer Thoughts Poetry (February 1, 2010)

"Lucky Numbers is a poem about someone playing the lottery and hoping to win and get out of their miserable situation. It was inspired by the 11 random words provided...."

"Lucky Numbers" starts with:

"Phoney hollow life hanging in the balance
"enthusiastic that glory would be yours...."

Okay: this probably won't push the sonnets of Shakespeare out of the next generation's English lit. textbooks. But the poem's pretty good.

And captures one facet of the human experience. I've run into people who play the lottery with a view to getting out from under an "ogre boss," as the poem says. One person described the lottery as his "retirement plan." Which is another topic.

I'll admit to a bias: I like these "random poems," and I contributed a word to this one. And, learned one.

Do you know that a mondegreen is "A form of error arising from mishearing a spoken or sung phrase"? According to Wiktionary, anyway. The Wiktionary etymology traces the word to an author in Harper's Magazine in 1954.

Do you care?

I do, but I like words.

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for another 'random poem.'

A Rabbit, a Photo of the Rabbit, and a Poem

"Featured Poem: The Milestone by the Rabbit Burrow"
The Reader Magazine (January 21, 2008)

"We are celebrating National Rabbit Week here at The Reader and in honour of the occasion our featured poem this morning is Thomas Hardy's 'The Milestone by the Rabbit Burrow', which is actually written from the point of view of a rabbit...."

Despite the impression you may have gotten, either in that required poetry class, or from some painfully creative acquaintance, poetry isn't necessarily weird, lethally boring, or the sort of thing you have to join some arcane group to "really" understand.

The Thomas Hardy poem quoted is mercifully brief. You might find it a fun read.

Or, not.

"Champaign," in the second-to-last line isn't a misspelling of champagne. A champaign is an "extensive tract of level open land". (Princeton's WordNet) Which is a fair description of Champagne, the area where champagne was developed.

250th "Random Twitter Poem"

"New Dawn – Random Twitter Poem for Dec 2nd"
Wanderer Thoughts (December 2, 2009)

"New Dawn is a poem that opens up with the ending of night and closes with the bringing of a new dawn. This was my 250th random twitter poem and included 20 random words (in blue) provided by the following twitter followers:..."

"...Avaricious night full of impending regret
frigid dewdrops left like bromidrosis
a coelacanth bound for daily extinction
surreal tendril threads of moonlight
looking for a sly exit strategy
from the harridan known as the sun..."

Pretty good: particularly when you consider that the poem is assembled from words arbitrarily supplied by others.

I particularly like that "surreal tendril threads of moonlight" line.

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for the heads-up on this "Random Twitter Poem."

Another 'Random' Poem

"Troubled Sleep"
Wanderer Thoughts (October 26, 2009)

"Troubled Sleep is about someone having chronic nightmares or visions that weigh on the soul. It is my largest contributed twitter poem with 22 random words (in blue) provided by the following twitter followers:..."

I'll admit to a bit of bias here: One of the words Dragon Blogger used is my contribution: schlemiel.

The poem itself starts with:

"Vestigial dreams like drunken pulp...."

It's remarkable, what a person can do with a list of words which, if not quite "random," were selected by an arbitrary process which did not involve pre-selection by any criteria - other than that they be something that appears in the massive vocabulary of English.

My favorite line is "...insipid despondency worn like a chain...."

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for the heads-up on this post.

13 - or is it 11? - 'Random' Words Inspire a Poem

"Broken Heart – Random Twitter Poem for October 15th"
Wanderer Thoughts (October 15, 2009)

"Today’s poem 'Broken Heart' is about someone being blind sided with a 'I think we should break up' type of scenario. It was inspired by the 11 random words, really 13 (in blue)...."

"...Broken Heart

"Lethargic like a flower without sunshine
or a bunsen burner without oil

"My face becoming pale and yellow
as if suffering from ictericia..."

What can I say? It's a poem. It's 'random' (no, not really - just a bit sillier than many - and more amusing).

Enjoy!

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for the heads-up on this poem.

Another Random Poem - or, 'Don't Spit at the Sky'

"Karma Repaid – Random Twitter Poem for August 10th"
Wanderer Thoughts (August 10, 2009)

If this looks familiar, it should. I did a micro-review on a random poem like this two weeks ago: "And Now, for Something Completely Different: a Strange Poem" (July 27, 2009).

I'll led the poet introduce the work:

"Today’s random twitter poem is about some high smug bureaucrat who falls from power and winds up in poverty, a true twist of fate. Poem was inspired by the 11 random words (in blue) provided below:..."

The poem includes my contribution, "sesquicentennial," as well as "discombobulated" and "fleas."

"Discombobulated?!" Yes, it's a word. Offhand, I'm not so sure about "questuary" - anyway, the poem is a quick read: 13 lines long.

13? The poet's choice of that number of lines must be just simply fraught with significance and symbolism.

Or, not.

Enjoy.

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter, for the heads-up on the current random poem.

And Now, for Something Completely Different: a Strange Poem

"Mountain Beast – Random Twitter Poem for July 27th"
Wanderer Thoughts (July 27, 2009)

"Today's poem is about a creature that in mountains and feeds from the beasts of the land, it is inspired by an astounding 20 random words (in blue) provided by the following twitter followers:..."

"...Mountain Beast

"Sasquatch fellwalker sitting on a cave stairway
chasing a monkey through a thunderstorm
superfluous breloque chain hanging
like an advocate of death from your side..."

There's more, but you get the idea.

---

A tip of the hat to dragonblogger, on Twitter:

Dragonblogger, the author - architect? - of this and similar random poems.

Rhyme Writer

Write Rhymes

"As you write, hold the alt key and click on a word to find a rhyme for it...."

It works, and gives you a wide selection of words, arranged by number of syllables and then alphabetically.

This online software is fun, and might help you meet a deadline, but it doesn't guarantee that your work will be recognized as great poetry. For example, here's what I got, writing all but the last word of a couplet - and selecting one of many three-syllable words (one of which was, naturally, gorilla).

I wish I had some vanilla
but found nothing but a parrilla.

But - This is fun, and easy to use. Enjoy.

A Thought for the Day

"Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."
G. K. Chesterton, The Quotations Page