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If You Are What You Eat, Boy, Some of Us Have Some Real Problems

Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet eating her pork ‘n’ beans.
A spider came down and twiddled around expecting to scare her away.images
She pulled out a knife then whirled around twice raising the blade in the air.
Just 35 whacks and 3.2 hacks and everything fell into place.
With mad knife skills and culinary will a recipe started to bloom
The next day’s menu was arachnid stew and a smile of delight on her face.

If it wasn’t before it certainly is now supremely evident why I do not write poetry. I do however garner a great deal of respect for those who do. As near as I can surmise my offering would fall somewhere between Dr. Seuss and a lobotomized brick.

I will say in my own defense I have raised several interesting questions. For instance; what is a tuffet?

As near as I’ve been able to ascertain, a tuffet is a clump of something or a footstool. It seems that a “Dr. Muffet” wrote the original nursery rhyme about his daughter 500 years ago, give or take a decade or two.

I guess that’s as good an explanation why a nursery rhyme was written as any, although I wouldn’t pay more than a buck and a quarter if I were buying it.

Not having a great deal of fear for spiders, what gives me the willies about the whole poem is the curds and whey. In this day and age yogurt is the first thing that comes to mind. Even cheese is made with the milk curds after the clear liquid (or whey) is separated from the solids.

Jump back five centuries and the first picture of Little Miss Muffitt’s meal that flashes across my mind’s eye are lumps of white floating in an off-white broth. An occasional gurgle followed by a bubble or two indicate the bowl is alive with bacteria happily munching away. Light streaks of pink amidst other barely discernible pastel colors form a scum slick on top of the purulent mixture.

It reminds me of the contents in a carton of milk two or more weeks out of date. You pull the container from the refrigerator, bend back the tabs, pop out the spout and pour. At first just a small trickle followed by a large glop of udder butter.

Mm, mm. Enough of this drop at a time stuff, heat up the cow!

Isn’t it amazing the information you can glean from something as simple as a child’s nursery rhyme?

That brings another rhyme to mind. Jack and the candlestick! Boy, what fun you can have with incendiary devices.

But that’s another story…

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November 26, 2014 · 3:31 PM

Keep the and’s, and the but’s, Just Drop the IF’s

if

“If”…… There’s that word again. I sometimes think it should be abolished. I mean, does it really have a valid use? No other word denotes such confusion and uncertainty.

“If” this were to happen.

“If” that were to happen.

 However, “if” we were to rid ourselves of that nasty little preposition, think of all the great speculation we would lose.

“If” I were to pen a novel and refuse to incorporate the word, “If,” would it be a refreshing respite from an old, stale has-been or more like a man with one foot nailed to the floor, running around in circles?

And “If” I were successful in ridding the world of this scourge, can you imagine the outcry for a replacement?

I can see it now…there would be riots in the street, destruction of property, possible injuries, total anarchy through every town, city, village and Hamlet. “If” I had only waited to abolish that filthy little scamp “If.”

Then, as our peaceful existence succumbed to mob rule, they would most certainly blame me. And “If” they did, I envision hordes of men, women, children, and fuzzy little pets from hound dogs to hamsters with torches and pitchforks, all after blood… Mine!

 If” I were able to escape and make my way into seclusion, I would be forced to work day and night, night and day without food or sleep and barely enough water to keep my poor emaciated self alive. Then, “If” at all possible, I would gather together a group of nomadic pygmies to act as liaison between myself and the ones who would have my head.

 As I envision possible replacements for that dastardly two lettered faux pas, “If,” I would send the leader of the pygmy liaisons, “Bob,” to meet with the head pitchfork toting nanny, “Henrietta,” to see if the predetermined word is a feasible replacement for “If.”

 For instance, what about using “unknown” instead of “If:” “If” I were to eat a sardine sandwich.

 The new sentence would read: “Unknown” I were to eat a sardine sandwich.

 See what I mean? A perfectly acceptable substitute. Don’t you agree? You do, don’t you? Please say that you do, “If” you don’t mind. I’ve got a lot riding on this.

 Or how about using, “but?” That works, doesn’t it?  “But” I were to eat a sardine sandwich.…

 Here’s one, “Doubt,” yeah, that’s it. Listen to how this flows off the tongue.

 “Doubt” I were to eat a sardine sandwich. See what I mean?

 Now “If” Bob can only get Henrietta to go along with my stunning replacement for “If” then all will be right with the world once someone cleans up the mess.

 Wait a minute. What “If” they can’t reach an agreement? What “If” Bob turns on me? What

“If” the word “If” comes to life and joins the foray?…

 You know, the more I think about it, the more I think that “If” isn’t such a bad word after all…

“if” it’s all the same to you.

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January 13, 2014 · 2:56 PM