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Jun 06 2014

Road Trip–Open Thread

Just a quick note to say, don’t expect me around for the next week to 10 days; I have no idea whether I will even have internet access at all.

I expect this comment thread to be full of wonderful stuff when I get back. That’s a reasonable expectation for an internet comment thread, isn’t it?

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  1. 1
    richardelguru

    “I have no idea whether I will even have internet access at all.”
     
    Aaaaaaaaagh!!!!
    The horror!!!!!
     
    No internet…
    The road is wet…
        Comment thread
    Don’t be dead!
    “Are we there yet?”

  2. 2
    Marcus Ranum

    Is this a Cormack McCarthy kind of road trip, or a Hunter Thompson kind? Or perhaps Kerouac blended with Tom Jones? Or National Lampoon’s Vacation?

    Hm… Has anyone ever written a book about the “road trip” meme?

  3. 3
    Johnny Vector

    The road goes ever on, anon.
    –Anon

  4. 4
    K

    If we really want to fuck up Abrahamic religions’ hold on the world, maybe we should construct a counter-myth proclaiming that their deity Allah/Yahweh/Jehovah is a demon, that Satan/Shaitan is a lie used to frighten individuals into submission, and that yet another completely made up imaginary entity which needs an interesting name actually wants them to be learned, liberal, and not assholes.

    The average human being is so stupid it might work.

  5. 5
    rikitiki

    (hey, seemed appropriate for a road-trip):

    Busman’s Holiday

    The road to good intentions is closed
    While Charon vacations in Rome.
    He left when the river froze last week
    And I was just starting this poem.
    He’ll tour the Italian Riviera
    And lie in the sun all day.
    He said he’d be back if things thaw out,
    But when that will be, who can say?

    © Christopher G. Doyle

  6. 6
    CatMat

    Blog won’t be fed
    Leaving instead
      On road trip
      Please stay hip
    - Open thread.

  7. 7
    richardelguru

    Poor Cuttlefish
    Won’t get his wish.
       Quiet thread,
       Almost dead!
    Real sad-ish.

  8. 8
    memehunter

    What can we possibly say
    While Cuttlefish roadtrips away?
    Make jokes of religion,
    With the stool of a pigeon
    And write a wee limerick a day.

  9. 9
    richardelguru

    Maybe I read too much really old literature, but “stool of a pigeon”??
    Eeeeeeew!

  10. 10
    CatMat

    With poetry
    Definitely
      It won’t give
      Thread will live
    - Well, maybe.

  11. 11
    richardelguru

    This open thread is very dribby and drabby if quite poetical, so I’m gonna be evil and post an old essay of mine about my favourite poet (sorry Cuttle, s’not you) and hope that it gets drowned in a vast flurry
     
     
    Of Nice Orrmin On: 2001-04-17
     
    Oh dear! I always seem to be putting out this sort of ‘intellectual thing’, you know, I’m always spouting about music and history and keep on reciting poetry, so that by now people are always asking me who is my favourite writer, and even though it’s obviously my own fault I am beginning to get just a little peeved by the repetition. So to crush this bug in the bud, as it were, I will tell all of you, and hope that you will tell everyone else.
    My absolute most favourite writer in the whole wide world is Orrm .
     

    Orrm (spelt O R R M—and getting that spelling right is very important as you will see in about two minutes and twenty nine seconds) was, as I’m sure you know, an early thirteenth century Englishman who wrote a poem called the Orrmulum.
     
    Now I should make something clear right from the start – Orrm’s poem, as far as we know the only one he ever wrote, is not one of my favourite writings. It is demonstrably the most boring poem in English literature, possibly even in any literature, and it does go on a bit. It is 20,000 lines long as it stands and there is good evidence that, as luck would have it, we have lost some 140,000 lines from the end. No doubt the lost 140,000 lines were the best 140,000 lines but even if they were the betting is we haven’t lost much. No, unfortunately poor Orrm (who sometimes called himself Orrmin spelled O R R M I N) belonged to that school of writing which holds that if a thing is worth saying it is worth saying repeatedly. He combines an industry which is astounding with a lack of talent which is stupefying. Just listen to the critics on Orrm:-
     
    on the metre – “The metre is the septenary, rhymeless, monotonously regular with 15 syllables, and soporific”
     
    or the subject – “What is the Orrmulum? The author tells us that he has attempted with the little wit that the Lord has lent him – unfortunately not an understatement – to explain to ignorant folk most of the gospels that are read in the Mass throughout the year”
     
    or this which just seems gratuitous – “It must be admitted that in literary value the Orrmulum approaches what the physicist calls absolute zero. It is very tedious. Orrm was careful not to overestimate the intelligence of his hearers, and he explains the obvious at painful length.”

     
    Now why, apart from the faint hope that it would get a cheap laugh, would I claim to like the author of such an immensely boring immensity? Listen for a moment, and maybe you will start to like him too (though I don’t think even then you’ll rush out to buy his book).

    Poor old Orrm is devastatingly earnest, sincere, — and oblivious, and there lies his appeal. There is something he generates simply because he is lousy, some yearning for him to have had talent which leaves me with an overwhelming nostalgia for lost failure. He is all of human frailty. Anyone, and this is probably the whole point of this essay, anyone who could bother to devise a precise and regular method of spelling in an age when spelling was not highly regarded, and to apply it with consistency and accuracy in order to make it easy to read out loud a vast poem that no one in his right mind would read out loud for fear of lynching, needs every friend he can get. And Orrm, wherever you are – I’m that friend for this century!
    Now I bet you would love to hear a bit of the Orrmulum, though after that build-up it’s bound to be a bit of an anticlimax:
    This is from the dedication to his brother Walt:

           Nu broþerr Wallterr, broþerr min, afterr þe flæsshess kinde,
           Annd broþerr min i Crisstenndom þurrh fulluhht annd þurrh trowwþe
          Annd broþerr min i Godess hus, yet o the ðride wise… ..

    Ahh don’t throw that! Ow! Ow!

    I’d better say — Cheerio for n… OW!
    from Richard H..Ow!..land-Bolton.

  12. 12
    CatMat

    Poetry is an artform
    Where awkward word choice is the norm
      Whither writers can flee
      Without seeming to be
    Utterly bereft of gorm

    ,,, 
    Cephalopods sure have it nice
    They can leave their own platforms on ice
     And the vertebrates fill
     Any openings with swill
    Without needing to have been asked twice

  13. 13
    rikitiki

    While on the road, Jack Kerouac
    Met many a limerick hack:
    “They don’t take the time
    And never quite rhyme
    I better just start heading back.”

  14. 14
    rikitiki

    Appendages all in a whirl,
    Cuttlefish leaves in a swirl
    Of ink and rhymed type
    Instead of our tripe
    But is xhe a boy or a girl?

  15. 15
    CatMat

    One problem in using an inter-
    line rhyming is that it will splinter
      The pace in a way
      That’s hardly okay
    At least it is no longer winter.

  16. 16
    rikitiki

    While Cuttlefish travels, quite terse,
    We comment and mumble and curse
    We type and we try
    (some might make you cry)
    Versus meter and rhyming and verse

  17. 17
    CatMat

    Never enough
    Filler and stuff
      Here I am
      Line won’t scan
    Off the cuff

  18. 18
    chigau (違う)

    Am I supposed to write a pome?

  19. 19
    CatMat

    Commenter named 違う to whom
    Being contrary was just assumed
      Seeing much mangled verse
      Just decided to curse
    And to live up to the nom de plume
      
    (I’m just recycling rikitiki’s rhymes now… how sad. )
    Assumption based on Google Translate :-)

  20. 20
    zackoz

    Orrmin had a rival, the Scottish poet William McGonagall, notorious for poems with wonky scansion, little poetic imagination and the compulsion to rhyme everything.

    His most famous poem was the “Tay Bridge Disaster”, which begins:

    Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!
    Alas! I am very sorry to say
    That ninety lives have been taken away
    On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
    Which will be remember’d for a very long time.

    Goon Show fans will be familiar with him, as the show from time to time featured a character called McGoonagall (played by Spike Milligan (or Peter Sellers) , quoting some of McGonagall’s verses.

  21. 21
    richardelguru

    zackoz:
    While you do have a point, in that McG does score a bit higher on the ISO Horribility Scale, the sheer volume of even just the extant oeuvre of the Sainted Orrm passeth all understanding!

  22. 22
    richardelguru

    chigau (違う)
    Not just a pome, but a limerick or preferably a hairimeraku!
    e.g.
    Baked hake,
    Or clam bake:
         Cuttlefish
         Make no dish.
    “Goodness sake!”
     
    And now that you’ve joined, like some unfortunate who has watched the wrong video in one of those movies, if you don’t write an hairimeraku, and a good one at that, mysterious forces willAAAAAAAAAAARHGHRAAAAAAaaaaaaaa a a a . . . . .  .   .

  23. 23
    Johnny Vector

    Goodness sake,
    Guru fake.
    I mock-eh?
    More sake.
    音 mistake.

  24. 24
    Martin_z

    Cephalod, Cephalod,
    Digital Cuttlefish
    Went on a road-trip and
    Left us to play.

    So, unsurprisingly,
    Posts have appeared in a
    Multipoetical
    Cuttlefish way.

  25. 25
    CatMat

    Trippity trappity
    Free thread for visitors
    Sometimes can work while at
    Other times not.
     
    For a host formally
    Cephalopodical
    Function is what the thread
    Certainly got.

  26. 26
    zackoz

    Cuttlefish, our blogging treasure
    Has dared to go, to take his leisure.
    With threats and curses
    We’ll demand more verses
    When he returns, in double measure.

    Bad Poet Contest

    Orrmin I see.
    Gonagall ? Gee!
    Both so stinking,
    Can’t help thinking:
    ‘What about me?’

  27. 27
    Johnny Vector

    Cuttlefish went away undeterred,
    For he knew that his Horde (or his herd)
    Would enlighten the place
    With their style and grace.
    But at this point it’s simply absurd.

  28. 28
    Johnny Vector

    I was thinking about all the coins from which our host has removed the religious words, and this happened.

    The Cuttlefish couldn’t be sweeter,
    But he (quarter) is kind of a cheater.
    They (nickel) don’t mind
    All the etching, but fined
    Him for (dollar coin) feeding the meter.

  29. 29
    rikitiki

    O’ Cuttlefish, this is no game.
    “A road-trip?!” we all did disclaim.
    We novices’ verse
    Can only get worse
    And you’ve only yourself, sir, to blame!
    (’cause we’re all kinda lame)
    (so there!)

  30. 30
    rikitiki

    This ink only thickens, quite murkey.
    As we write unlike eagles but turkeys
    Who’ve tried best to rhyme
    With no thought of thyme
    A threnody sung in the wrong key.

  31. 31
    rikitiki

    Our poet has done a fast bunk
    Leaving all in a terrible funk
    We’re left on our own
    Whittled quite to the bone
    Reduced to poetical gunk!

  32. 32
    rikitiki

    Limerick-ized we all remain -
    Waiting, posting odd refrains
    Is Cuttlefish back?
    Alas and alack,
    No witty, rhymed quatrains!

  33. 33
    rikitiki

    Though some try to fill it (like me),
    We float through this vast empty sea
    Of doggerel here
    And doggerel there
    Awaiting the return of he (or she).

  34. 34
    rikitiki

    We ‘preciate our Cuttlefish
    P.Z’s okay, but not rhymish
    Cuttle scans and meters
    Unlike we mouth-breathers
    Inking quite tentacular, delish!

  35. 35
    rikitiki

    ’twas brillig, Cuttle’s slimy toes,
    Inky tentacle-writing odes -
    We love it, true:
    Indeed we do,
    Our scholor’s hit the Rhode.

  36. 36
    rikitiki

    (grrr…guess that shoulda been “Rhodes“)

  37. 37
    CatMat

    While it’s no race
    Keep up the pace
      Endeavour
      Forever
    - Fill the space

  38. 38
    rikitiki

    Said mongoose to cephalopod:
    “Dear writer, I find it quite odd,
    Your words on a diet
    (some others could try it)
    Leaving us with the bulk of the blog!”

  39. 39
    rikitiki

    There once was a Cuttle a-road
    Careening like old mister Toad
    All twisty and turned
    And rubber was burned
    ’til arriving at Cuttle-abode.

  40. 40
    rikitiki

    Said CatMat, “Keep up the pace” (#37)
    While we verse here and rhthmically race
    Some verses make sense, er,
    Some verses are denser
    Than black holes in infinite space.

  41. 41
    CatMat

    Rickity tickity
    Need of a maximum
    Poetic output is
    What we have here.
     
    While the flood thickens quite
    Phenomenominal
    Hope that the Cuttlefish
    Return is near!

  42. 42
    rikitiki

    Do Cuttlefish, like salmon, yearn
    To boomerang, and thus return?
    Or, will we, like Dante`
    Rhyme here en’flagrante
    In poetical hell we’ll all burn!

  43. 43
    CatMat

    Readers galore
    Yearning for more
      A road trip
      With a quip
    Leaves us sore

  44. 44
    zackoz

    Our PM Tony Abbott said
    To Stephen Harper, “We’ll get cred
    If we now decide on forming
    A mighty bloc on global warming.”
    And now the world will shake in dread!

  45. 45
    CatMat

    Our Cuttlefish made a four seater – a meter
    That works where the popular meters would not
    A sedan to fell station wagons, the drag-ons
    From ages before that the plebeians got.
    With this nimble form we have cover to hover
    on us unlike those old convertibles would
    And when the trunk’s full there’s no worry a lorry
    Could carry what these minor syllables could.
     
    I think that verse calls for another – a bother
    To write cause the fountain of words has run dry
    I might find a way to just fake it and make it
    A self-referential block – I think I’ll try:
    An automobile as a frame of the game, of
    Course there is going to be a refrain
    The hope that this road trip’d be over, the Rover
    Should soon be back home for as all to abstain.

  46. 46
    CatMat

    Writing the way
    One might just say
      ‘Us’, as ‘as’
      Never has
    Any sway.
     
    Damn typoes.

  47. 47
    CatMat

    Of elder forms, a pentametric beat
    Can pull a bit nostalgic kind of heat,
    But when the pressure shows its ugly head
    There’s more than just a handful lines to thread:
    -
    One from the town of Limerick
    Quite easy and fine for a quick
      Example that’s fine
      To thread and refine
    A punchline as thin as a brick;
    -
    And hairimer-
    aku, whither
      Beats count once
      Towards funs
    - then wither…

  48. 48
    rikitiki

    There once was a Cuttlefish, yes!
    Who thought up a limeririck test
    “I’ll say I’ve split the town,
    Then watch as those clowns
    Each tries to out-diddle my best!”

  49. 49
    rikitiki

    Now, yes, I would not put such dire, diabolical
    passions on our dear Cutttlefish. More likely those
    designs would be the arena of P.Z, that tentacular
    arch fiend – our cephalopod master supreme.

  50. 50
    rikitiki

    A limerick, yes, I would so boast
    Hopefully, delighting our host
    Tired, back from a jaunt
    In need of a taunt
    A little something on which so to coast

  51. 51
    rikitiki

    There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear one
    And our Cuttlefish plied it, out on the run
    But we fans here contrive
    To keep verse quite alive
    ’til our blog host arrives on his bum.

  52. 52
    rikitiki

    P.Z, he contrives to overtrhrow
    We here simply try to compose
    A verse or a rhyme
    And given the time
    We’ll overrun him by a row.

  53. 53
    rikitiki

    ’tis Fathers’ day, paters’ day, vaters’ day, so
    And we bow with obesience, all in a row
    Have a Hallmark card, dad
    Not much, I’m so sad,
    It’ll go down quite well with this scotch!

  54. 54
    rikitiki

    A limirick, simmer it, stew it up hot
    Rhyme it and slyme it, serve it with snot
    Eat it, don’t beat it,
    Slurp it up, spit
    Poetic license is quite worth the shot

  55. 55
    rikitiki

    A commentor, quite fundagelical
    Spewed chapter and verse, quite biblical.
    We took poetic license
    To slice and to dice ‘im
    And sent him off crying, “Heretical!!”

  56. 56
    CatMat

    Licency flicency
    Free form of poetry
    Still needs a harness to
    Make it a poem.
     
    While the emissions are
    Inundatorial
    Things will get better when
    Cuttlefish’s home!

  57. 57
    richardelguru

    Rikitiki
    Rhymes flow quicky.
         But CatMat
         Answers that.
    Where’s Dicky*
     
     
     * I’ll do anything for a rhyme, but never ever call me that!

  58. 58
    richardelguru

    Damn I forgot the ?

  59. 59
    CatMat

    Frosty night gale
    Midsummer hail
      Weather’s weird
      Once it’s cleared
    Need more ale.

  60. 60
    rikitiki

    Richard and CatMat disclaim:
    Cuttlefish gone, what a shame.
    I’ll not be a dick
    But just limerick
    As best as I can with this brain

  61. 61
    rikitiki

    I wonder of Cuttlefish gone
    Is it swimming or driving, anon?
    However the case
    We hope it is safe
    And, returning, won’t take too damned long!

  62. 62
    rikitiki

    We rhyme and we fret
    We’re not done quite yet
    Our verse
    Could be worse
    Who knows what we’ll get?

  63. 63
    rikitiki

    Swimming that heavy, murky sea,
    Young Cuttlefish ambles aimlessly
    A road-trip, do tell
    Hope all’s going well
    As time taffy’s-out endlessly

  64. 64
    rikitiki

    I strain, tax my brain, then refrain:
    Oh, well, Monday – here I am again
    But Cuttle’s not
    (the roaming snot)
    Morning coffee’ll kill the pain

  65. 65
    martin_z

    No clerihew yet?

    The Digital Cuttlefish
    Does not exactly have a subtle wish;
    All he’s suggesting is that everyone may
    Manage their lives without religion getting in the way.

    (And so say all of us!)

  66. 66
    richardelguru

    Edmund Clerihew Bently
    ‘S verses mocked quite gently
    Famous folk quite a few,
    Though he failed to invent the hairimeraku.

  67. 67
    rikitiki

    “And so say all of us”,
    We bozos on this bus
    At least we admit so
    And bow? not a whit, NO!
    We’re unum e pluribus

  68. 68
    rikitiki

    Limericks, like salty chips –
    I can’t write just one, they’re a trip
    So, yeah, I’m addicted
    Who could have predicted
    I’d drink the Kool-Aid, sip-by-sip?

  69. 69
    CatMat

    The thread is what it’s meant to be
    Production without pedigree
    For rhyme and beat and, yes, verbiage
    Lasting but for the voyage
     
    Impending advent
    Of the host.
     
    A thriving mesh of poetry
    A melting pot of revelry
    Waiting for their Master’s voice
    To drown out all discordant noice
     
    With hosted content
    We like most.

  70. 70
    CatMat

    Well, I’ll be damned.
     
    Finding the spelling
    Is harder than what
    It should be, I’m telling!
    It’s English, it’s got
    Those homophones like, say
    Noice and noise are
    So typoes find way
    To blend in the bar.
    It’s not like it’s written
    The way it is said
    Once shy now, twice bitten
    I’m going to bed.

  71. 71
    zackoz

    Without an engine or magneto
    A sailing ship fared incognito
    Sailed by many a lascar
    To fabled Madagascar
    From the mysterious Barito.

    [It’s true! Madagascar was settled over 1000 years ago by people of Malay stock from the Barito River in Borneo.]

  72. 72
    zackoz

    Cheney and Bush in troubled waters fished,
    Did they get just what they wished?
    The ISIL killers with verve advance,
    If they take their every chance
    They too will proclaim, “Mission Accomplished”.

  73. 73
    rikitiki

    In the news it’s the I.S.I.L.
    And Iraq’s simply going to hell
    There’s Bush’s “Victory!”
    Plain for all to see
    A trillion dollars never looked so … well(?)…

  74. 74
    rikitiki

    Our Cuttle’s off so far afield
    So, to our inner-poets, yield
    We’ll verse and rhyme
    And waste your time
    You might think, “What a deal”

  75. 75
    rikitiki

    Not again, not again, not AGAIN!
    (I imagine such a refrain)
    But it’s just so much fun
    To post; hit and run
    So, here, I will do so (again)

  76. 76
    CatMat

    A discordant wail
    Sedentary vigil by
    A connected screen
    Distant hordes of readers wait
    For Cuttlefish to return

  77. 77
    CatMat

    “Next week to ten days”
    Without any internet
    No walk on roses

  78. 78
    rikitiki

    Cuttlefish commutes
    But where? He only does know
    Silence is golden?

  79. 79
    rikitiki

    A hole we seek to fill with metered verse
    A lack, alas, dear Cuttle swims apace
    So, we, in turn attempt to fill this space
    With visions, thoughts, and dialoge perverse

  80. 80
    rikitiki

    Some good, some bad, and others we just skip
    An open forum sets our minds adrift
    Determining, descriminating shifts
    We yaw and pitch, and compass our own ships

  81. 81
    rikitiki

    To sail against a tide or with a flow
    In hopes of solid facts and evidence
    That journey’s toil has finally made sense
    Of what we sought and where we chose to go

    We may still argue, not agree as one,
    But friends we are, content we’re not alone.

  82. 82
    Cuttlefish

    *snif* *weep*

    It’s all just so beautiful…

  1. 83
    I’m Back, Mostly » The Digital Cuttlefish

    […] a lovely returning gift–81 comments, most in […]

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