Thursday, July 15, 2004
The special meal request of Stephen Vrabel
Dead Man Eating Weblog -> The special meal request of Stephen Vrabel
The special meal request of Stephen Vrabel, Ohio, July 14, 2004
Vrabel requested a BLT with extra mayonnaise, ham and cheese omelet with extra cheese, two hot dogs with mustard, pork and beans, potato salad, vanilla ice cream, chocolate pudding and six Cokes.
A Tale of Two Cats
Peaches was a parrot
Of exotic, rare descent.
Her feather coat of colors
Attracted eyes where ere she went.
And this parrot was a talker,
An extraordinary bird.
She often talked a blue streak,
Repeating everything she heard.
Now, Peaches was a clever bird
And smart as parrots go.
She loved to entertain folks, and
Could put on quite a show.
She would dance and flash her colors,
Then shyly bow her head,
And for a saltine cracker, she’d
Keel over and play dead.
She could sing a saucy ditty,
Or could summersault with ease,
She could whistle like a tea pot,
And even fake a sneeze!
But, if ignored or bypassed
Without getting due attention,
She’d flap her wings and scream out words
Too rude to even mention.
Peaches lived outside the pet shop,
And she always drew a crowd.
Her job was luring passers-by
Which made her owner proud.
But, this is how it happened,
One fine sultry, summer day…
That Peaches learned a lesson,
In a most ironic way.
Now, Oscar was a tomcat,
And he was mean, as tomcats go.
He would sit beneath her cage and stare
As his tail flicked to and fro.
Instinctively, she knew what Oscar
Had upon his mind…
Peaches knew that she would make for him
A quite tasty little find.
His eyes would glaze with longing,
A hungry sneer played on his face.
When he grew bored with sitting,
Oscar’d then begin to pace.
This made Peaches nervous,
The thought of being Oscar’s treat.
She knew that she must find a way
To make this cat retreat.
So Peaches sat upon her perch,
Rudely calling Oscar names.
“Get lost, you mangy, dog-faced cat!
I won’t play your little games!”
Oscar ‘s ears, they’d faintly flattened
As the insults smartly fell.
His fur began to bristle and his
Whiskers twitched, as well.
But Oscar sat as still as stone,
Moving not a single inch,
The poison of the parrot’s words
Didn’t even make him flinch.
“Hey, Ugly! Mutt-breath! Hit the road!”
That Peaches tartly taunted…
“Before I whistle for my dog…
Your attention is not wanted!”
Now he knew that Peaches had no dog,
That he was being baited.
So he sat in quiet confidence, and
Patiently he waited.
Without thinking past the moment,
Peaches then barked out a howl,
And in a flash appeared a dog
Whose vicious teeth released a growl.
What happened next was blurry
It all became a giant jumble…
The dog gave Oscar ferocious chase,
Causing Peaches’ cage to tumble.
And when the dust began to clear,
Colored feathers filled the air.
Peaches ended up the banquet of
Oscar’s tomcat pal, Pierre.
Now, the moral of this story is not
Difficult to see…
Its never wise to bluff a cat
When there’s another behind the tree!
Poetry: The Future Viewed as the Collapse of a Wave Function
Unstructured Musings -> Thursday Poetry Slam
Thursday Poetry Slam
The Future Viewed as the Collapse of a Wave Function
(c) Andrew Lias
I remember the future.
When I was born
It was the size of worlds.
Every time I closed my eyes
I could see galactic whirls
Filled with with potentiality.
By the time I was ten,
The future had shrunk
To something merely planetary
In scope and scale.
I could point to some far place
And say that someday,
If I started walking right now,
I could be there before I died.
By the time I was twenty-one
The future had suffered
An environmental catastrophe.
Some Velikovskian god had taken
Whole continents of possibility
And tossed them into the void-dream,
Perhaps to be found by another,
But forever lost to me.
Now the future
Is barely larger than the present;
Where I once wandered
A labyrinth of possibilities,
There are now only
A few dozen paths,
Most of which are pointing
In the same general direction.
One day the future and I
Will collapse to a point.
In the absence of uncertainty
There will only be
The thin line of history
Leading to a singularity.
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8/1/2004; 9:26:27 AM.
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