So my kooky/cranky 96-year-old great-aunt, who has no kids/grandkids of her own and has therefore been a (grand)parental figure to my family, was recently admitted to the hospital with a case of pneumonia, given two weeks to live, and sent back home after being accepted as a hospice client. We’ve all been bracing ourselves for bad news ever since. This is the update I got from her today, via my dad:
On Monday I called and her caregiver told me she was sitting up in bed reading the NY Times. She was enjoying her view of her backyard, and the company of her cat. Ayee and I had a nice chat. A hospice nurse went to see her on Tuesday and said she had good vitality and skin color, her lungs sounded clear, and that Ayee had tried to whack her with her hairbrush when the nurse tried to change a bandage. ”She’s a spunky lady,” the nurse said to me.
Looks like she’s going to be around for a while after all, basically. I can only hope to be equally “vital” seventy years from now. Patterning my life after Ayee’s, this means: scotch and soda every night, and keeping at least two dogs around at all times.
PLAYBOY: Mistake or not, what made you decide to go the rock-‘n’-roll route?
DYLAN: Carelessness. I lost my one true love. I started drinking. The first thing I know, I’m in a card game. Then I’m in a crap game. I wake up in a pool hall. Then this big Mexican lady drags me off the table, takes me to Philadelphia. She leaves me alone in her house, and it burns down. I wind up in Phoenix. I get a job as a Chinaman. I start working in a dime store, and move in with a 13-year-old girl. Then this big Mexican lady from Philadelphia comes in and burns the house down. I go down to Dallas. I get a job as a “before” in a Charles Atlas “before and after” ad. I move in with a delivery boy who can cook fantastic chili and hot dogs. Then this 13-year-old girl from Phoenix comes and burns the house down. The delivery boy - he ain’t so mild: He gives her the knife, and the next thing I know I’m in Omaha. It’s so cold there, by this time I’m robbing my own bicycles and frying my own fish. I stumble onto some luck and get a job as a carburetor out at the hot-rod races every Thursday night. I move in with a high school teacher who also does a little plumbing on the side, who ain’t much to look at, but who’s built a special kind of refrigerator that can turn newspaper into lettuce. Everything’s going good until that delivery boy shows up and tries to knife me. Needless to say, he burned the house down, and I hit the road. The first guy that picked me up asked me if I wanted to be a star. What could I say?
PLAYBOY: And that’s how you became a rock-‘n’-roll singer?
previously, i presented some choice f-words from a naughty dictionary. i think it only fair that i feng shui the durtyness of those words with some far cleaner f-words from another dictionary. from a handlist of rhetorical terms (1991)° [paraphrased]:
far fet: a figure of speech where the present effect is attributed to a remote cause: “the ship is sinking, damn the forest where the mast grew.” (also metalepsis)
fleering frumpe: mockery of an opponent accompanied by a gesture. (also mycterismus)
flitting figure: passing over an issue quickly. (also metastasis)
forrein speech: mispronunciation through ignorance or a wretched accent to fit the meter or rhyme. (also barbarismus)
foule speech: lewd allusion or double entendre (also cacemphaton)
frequentatio: word heaps; when one tries to win an argument by using a multitude of unnecessary words. (also congeries)
looking over this list is like reading a harry potter grimoire°.
“American food writers
American television personalities
Female wartime spies |
Cultural history of Boston, Massachusetts |
Légion d’honneur recipients |
American television chefs |
Smith College alumni |
People of the Office of Strategic Services |
Deaths from renal failure |
Daytime Emmy Award winners |
Emmy Award winners |
Peabody Award winners |
1912 births |