Here is a new silly thing I wrote this morning:

In recent weeks, I have facetiously been telling my friends that we really don’t have to worry about all the horrible things going on in the world right now, or worry about our aging bodies and all our aches and pains. Climate change is here, I would say, and the world as we know it is going to come to an end. And this got me thinking about Robert Frost’s 1923 poem “Fire and Ice” and thinking about an update. I’ve tried to keep to the same rhyming and metrical scheme (okay, one slant rhyme!), but, unlike Frost, I’m no real poet. But here it is:

Robert Frost, “Fire and Ice,” 1923

Some say the world will end in fire, 

Some say in ice.

For what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

————————————————

“An Update to Robert Frost, ‘Fire and Ice’,” 2024.

Some may try climate change to deny,

But it is here.

As we pump more carbon into the sky,

The temperature’s rising, we can’t deny.

The worst is coming, the end is near.

Droughts and floods, the forests burn,

Fire and ice, as Frosty feared.

We never learn

Oh dear, oh dear.

Not really poems, more just ideas inelegantly set to verse

Okay, most of this is a long quotation from the World Meteorological Organization website.

Here is a little short story I just wrote. It fits in with my obsession with time.

Back when I was teaching, I used to encourage my students to make use of em-dashes in their writing. Here is a silly poem about them.

More People Posses

A habit of addicts

A cocktail of alcoholics

A half-full glass of optimists

A half-full glass of pessimists

A conspiracy of paranoiacs

A mirror of narcissists

A crowded room of extroverts

An empty room of introverts

A privilege of Boomers

A latchkey of Gen Xers

A web of Millennials

A pitch of footballers

A goggle of swimmers

A dove of pacifists

A segregation of racists

A blaze of pyromaniacs

A conflagration of arsonists

A debauchery of hedonists

A meditation of ascetics

A gulp of gluttons

A gag of bulimics

A cause of rebels

A flag of patriots

A rollercoaster of depressives

A rollercoaster of maniacs

A squat of athletes

A remote of couch potatoes

A sidecar of hobos

A VW van of hippies

A climate of deniers

A globe of flat-earthers

A few days ago my friends were playing around with collective names for animals . . . you know, “a parliament of owls”, “a charm of hummingbirds”, and the like. This got me going on collective nouns of professionals. Here is my list (with help from Pam and Mike). Enjoy!

A tower of academics.

A stage of actors.

A scaffold of architects.

A stratum of archaeologists.

An oven of bakers.

A shaker of bartenders.

An account of bookkeepers.

A cleaver of butchers.

A hammer of carpenters.

A pan of chefs.

A cuff of cops.

A cache of cashiers.

A drill of dentists.

A truck of drivers

A dose of doctors.

A cord of electricians

A buttress of engineers.

A field of farmers.

A bouquet of florists.

A shear of gardeners

A spray of hairdressers.

A claim of insurers.

A mop of janitors.

A page of journalists

A jury of judges.

A lair of lawyers.

A shelf of librarians.

A whistle of lifeguards.

A wrench of mechanics.

A runway of models.

A bed of nurses.

A can of painters.

A focus of photographers.

A flight of pilots.

A plunger of plumbers.

A bag of postmen.

A lobby of receptionists.

An experiment of scientists.

A pad of secretaries.

A saucer of servers.

A trench of soldiers.

A spool of tailors.

A blackboard of teachers.

A dictionary of translators.

A casket of undertakers.

A den of veterinarians. 

A tray of waiters.

A chapter of writers.

A decade ago, my wife and I started to clip out from the newspapers we subscribed to (the New Hampshire Keene Sentinel and The Boston Globe) cartoons and comic strips related to our academic interests in art history and archaeology. In 2017, after we retired and moved to Spain, I started to organize those clippings, which led me down the rabbit holes of comic studies and humor theory. Three years ago, I finished Art and Archaeology in the American Funny Pages, a series of essays about, well, art and archaeology in American comics. I sent it out to several publishers, and only heard back from a sympathetic editor at the University of Mississippi Press (which is the main academic publisher of comic studies in the US). But that kindly editor suggested that UMP would only be interested in publishing my work if I divided it into two books, cut out 9/10ths of the comics in it, and obtain (i.e. pay for) permission to quote all copyrighted material I included in it.

While I did seriously consider taking UMP up on its offer, I ended up putting my Art and Archaeology in the American Funny Pages on the back burner while I turned to other projects (mostly exploring Asturias, a marvelous, and largely undiscovered, part of northern Spain). Now, as 2023 is drawing to a close, I have come to realize that I don’t have it in me to try to rework this study into a form that a publisher may find acceptable. So, for the few people who might be interested in what I had to say on this topic, here it is, over a thousand pages long with nearly a thousand, six hundred, comcs! (Because of its size, I have had to upload it to this website in eleven parts.)

As I say (on p. 86 of the attached 90 pages!): “To write a memoir would seem almost de rigueur for someone who is approaching the end of a life spent working with words.” So, over the past year or so, I have been scribbling down some of the memories that are bouncing around in this seventy-one year old brain. This is the result.