Something's Bothering Me

Lately something has been bothering me. I think the 1960s and 1970s produced some of the finest music ever. I'm very fond of "World of Our Own" by the Seekers and Chad and Jeremy's "Summer Song", There are many others. There are a few from the 1930s, 40s, and 50s as well, and a couple or so from the 1980s, might even be one from the nineties. I have down loaded a number of songs from those decades and I enjoy listening to them. But lately I've noticed something. One song I used to really enjoy was John Denver's "Country Roads". But recently I noticed something in the lyrics that makes me never to want to hear this song again. "Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains, blowin' like a breeze..." "Blowin' like a breeze"? What the crap does that mean? Are the mountains blowin' like a breeze? That seems to suggest that the mountains are volcanoes. As far as I know volcanos don't blow anything like a breeze. Maybe life, trapped between the ages of mountains and trees is blowin like a breeze. I'm not even going to speculate on what that would mean.

The other song is Neal Diamond's "I Am I Said". Now in this song the part that says that L.A.'s rent's so low must have been a long long time ago. For a least a couple of decades rent in L.A. is some of the highest in the U.S. But then New York's rent might be high enough to make L.A. rent seem paltry in comparison. "L.A.'s fine, the sun shines most of the time and the feeling is laid back. The palm trees blow and the rent's so low...." But that's not the part that makes me want to never hear that song again. This is the part that makes the song just silly "I am I said, to no one there, and no one heard at all, not even the chair". Not even the chair?!?!? Sounds like Diamond was stretching to find a word that rhymes with there. Sloppy.

Mr. Gilliland of my freshman Humanities class would have torn that song to shreds, probably did at some point. He sure didn't like "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer. But I think that Gilliland was an athiest and any poem that mentioned God would offend him. It would make him feel threatened so he felt that he had to attack before the poem did him severe, maybe life threatening damage. But that's another topic for another blog entry.

Both Diamond and Denver must certainly have been reaching for something to rhyme with, in
Denver's case "trees" and in Diamond's case "there". Sloppy, sloppy poetry. And before anyone starts criticizing the poetry on this blog, please know that I am aware that it is nothing but doggerel.

Infinity

The space inside of a basketball is bounded by the basketball itself. And yet it is infinite. Anyone who believes that is an idiot. Right? Maybe. But then again maybe not. Imagine that a sphere, exactly one half the dimensions of the basketball and existing inside the basketball. Now imagine another sphere precisely one half the dimensions of this inner sphere. And then another sphere inside that one, and so on until you come to the final.... Ah, but there is no final sphere. Because the half sizing of the space within each sphere continues endlessly.

So, when you hold a basketball within your hands you are actually grasping infinity. Of course you don't know what to do with it. Except to throw it to a team mate. Dribble this infinite space upon the floor of a basketball court. Throw it at a basket for a field goal or an extra point. Or maybe hold it between your left upper arm and left side just below the armpit while thus holding the basketball hold as best you can your left hand as high as possible with the palm down and with the fingers of your right hand pointing to the ceiling and pressed against your left palm in order to signal to the officials that you want a time out.

Of course basketballs are not the only balls that enclose infinity. Baseballs do it. So do tennis balls, volleyballs, golfballs, matza balls, soap bubbles, marbles, even footballs. Which brings up other shapes beside spheres. Cylinders, and pyramids, tori and cubes, rectangular boxes, cones, any three dimensional shapes you can think of all enclose infinity. The same must be true of four dimensional shapes as well. So you see, infinity can be bounded. And you can actually hold infinity within your hand, inside of which there is also infinite space.

Victory and Defeat

Victory seems a slim hope, a vain hope.
But still I soldier on, nothing else to do.
Defeat seems imminent. What can be salvaged?
Still I soldier on, obeying the vague commands of
perceived destiny.

Of course defeat was inevitable, but for who?
For us? For them?

It occurs to me that Victory and Defeat are
inseparably mated, and we are but helpless
victims of both, becoming intimately acquainted
through time with both sides of this dichotomy.

One wonders if there is a Final Defeat, or
a Final Victory.

Unknown, but some guess not.
Some guess that both Victory and Defeat
wither and die and are ultimately forgotten
along with Victor and Vanquished.

The most that either can hope for is to become
an historical footnote. At least that's what some
guess. At least that's what some hope, those
who wish to assuage the bitterness of Final
Defeat, if there really is a Final Defeat, which
if there is there will also be Final Victory.
Because you're never going to see Defeat
(Interim or Final) by itself. It's always going
to be accompanied by its inevitable companion,
Victory (Interim or Final).

You're always going to see Victory with
Defeat. They're a team, bringing unjustified
pride to some, even preserving life, at least
for a while, and fully justified humility to others,
often bringing death. You see, sometimes,
though not always, Death is also a companion of
Victory and Defeat.

Death

I laughed I mocked, but felt the fears
of Death and Life each day.
Then felt the laughter change to tears
As the world turned dreary gray.

Confusion springs before me now
As years add age to me,
Wrinkling skin and whitening brow,
Weakening mind and knee.

Helpless now, I dread my fate,
As mocking years go by,
Pointing me to the stern cold gate
Of the tomb in which I'll lie.

M

Mellow Tan Fellow walked down the street
A tall blond woman hoping to meet.
A woman all beautiful with culture and couth.
But Mellow Tan Fellow had not guessed the truth.
This woman he sought did not even exist
But Mellow expected this fictional tryst.
He spent his life seeking this lady so fair.
He spent his life searching
But no one was there.

H

The captors of a mobile ham
Sang anthems through the night
Preparing almost joyfully
For the coming morning bright

The mobile ham a purple car
With orange wheels did ride
Until with vultures at his heels
He had to run and hide.

D

A Dandy Food Fish Somewhere There
Creates a Bubble at the Fair
Trains it to be a Yellow Pear

Enjoy the Tender Moment
When Dandy Fish is Cogent
Then Sleep Away
This Dreadful Orange Year.

Teotihuacan

The Victims of obsidian sang a mournful song
Knowing that the Toltecs and the Aztecs were all wrong
And bitterly their hearts wept for Teotihuacan
And bitterly their hearts wept for Teotihuacan

The Rain in Spain

The rain in Spain is said to stay mainly on the plain, at least that is the assertion of a certain Professor Higgins. Personally I have never been to Spain and do not know for certain that there are any plains there, or rain for that matter. But I have seen pictures of parts of Spain in the north where there are mountains. If the pictures really are of Spanish Mountains and not Russian ones or Colombian ones Or New Zealand ones, or mountains of any other country, then it is almost certain that there is rain there, or else how would the trees grow? There were trees in the pictures I saw.

But note that Professor Higgins did not say that the rain in Spain stays ONLY on the plain. He said that the rain in Spain stays MAINLY on the plain.

According to a woman named Eliza Doolittle, Professor Higgins is a man of uncertain reliability. But if what he said is true, if indeed there is a plain in Spain, then I envision a plain covered with green grass waving in the gentle summer breeze and a river or two running bank to bank through this plain. But that’s just my imagination. The reality of the plains in Spain might be quite different.

First, the word “mainly” in and of itself says nothing about the quantity of rain that falls in Spain, only that it falls MAINLY on the plain. Spain might enjoy a yearly average of only three or four millimeters of rain. In that case the fields would almost certainly lack the lushness I have imagined. The plains might be bare of flora and very dusty. And there would probably be no rivers at all, just dry river beds.

While Professor Higgins asserts that the rain in Spain stays “mainly” on the plain, he does not explain exactly what he means by “mainly”.

Personally, I would guess that “mainly” means that more than 50 percent of the rain in Spain stays on the plain, but how much more than 50 percent? Does “mainly” mean 50.1 percent? To my mind, “mainly” would have to be significantly more than 50 percent. I would say it has to be at least 60 percent, or even 65 percent. So let’s say that “mainly” falls in a range of from 60 percent to 99.9 percent. This means that rain in the mountains would fall within a range of one tenth of a percent to 40 percent of the total rainfall, unless of course you consider the beaches. After all, Spain, I have heard, is not a land locked country. Supposedly it has several hundred kilometers of shoreline which probably could not fall under the definition of “plains”, at least in the context that Professor Higgins meant “plains”. So the remaining one tenth of a percent to 40 percent of rainfall would have to be divided between the shoreline and the mountains. And Professor Higgins said nothing about rain at the seaside or the mountains.

I have been given to understand that Spain lies north of the equator. And I am told that the mountains in Spain are in the northern part of the country. So it is entirely possible that snow falls in the mountains, at least in the wintertime. That might mean that the mountains get more overall precipitation than the plains. They might get a little rain and lots of snow, while the plains, though receiving significantly more rain than the mountains, might not get any snow at all.

Remember that Professor Higgins specified rain in his famous assertion, he said nothing about snow, and rain clearly is not snow. For one thing you can’t have rain ball fights. You could easily have water balloon fights but they are not the same thing as snowball fights. And it would pretty much be impossible to form rain into a ball perhaps four feet in circumference, and form more rain into a second ball of perhaps three feet in circumference and stack it on the larger one, and form still more rain into a third rain ball of maybe two feet in circumference and stack it on top of the other two. So you might as well forget about the coal the carrot and the top hat. And the name “Frosty” would never come up at all. Cleary, rain is not snow.

So the mountains could be watered by snowfall which of course would melt in the spring, thus causing the trees and other flora to grow, while at the same time there is not enough rain on the plain to sustain much plant life.

It is certain that more information is needed in order to test Professor Higgins assertion in re the rain in Spain, to learn other things about the nature of the Spanish plain and to learn whether there is enough snow in the mountains for sledding. Since there is no evidence that Professor Higgins actually visited Spain, the best way to gather the needed data would be to mount an expedition to Spain and spend some time traveling around the country, taking measurements of plain, mountain and shoreline. To be completely accurate in one’s conclusions, several years, at least five probably, would be required so that average yearly rainfall and snowfall readings could be taken in the various parts of Spain over the course of five years.

And of course I could not possibly complete this project alone. I would definitely need assistants. These assistants would also serve as witnesses that I had actually been to Spain and spent the necessary amount of time traveling around the country to draw accurate conclusions.

I have compiled a list of a hundred names or so of people with the necessary skills to assist in the project. These are people that I have known for many years and so I can vouch for their reliability. They include my wife, my three sons, two daughters, half a dozen nephews, a few nieces and some cousins.

I have taken the trouble to calculate the total cost of the expedition and it comes to $17,258,576.82. I am in the process of requesting a grant from the United States Government for this project but am not confident that the officials with the power to approve the grant would appreciate the needs to be served by said project.

In the meantime, I am open to accepting donations. Donors need not worry. Their donated funds will be put to good use, and I and my assistants will keep careful records, so that we can refund all donations should the grant be approved.

You may send your donations to:

Rain In Spain Project,
20502 Mesquite Berry Lane
Cambridge, Arizona 80108-10101”

The Vorpal Blade

Somewhere over the rainbow way up high There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
You should see it. It has gently rolling hills covered with yellow grass two feet high that bends to a gentle October breeze. It's always October there. The heat of summer is forgotten and there is a sense of peace, usually anyway.

Sometimes it's brillig there and you can see the slithy toves gyring in the distance, and occasionally there might be mome raths outgrabing. So you might need your vorpal blade to protect yourself, unless of course you enjoy that sort of thing. I know I don't. So I have had to dispatch three mome raths in the last two years, and that, my friend, is not easy, even with a vorpal blade.

But you probably won't be attacked. Oh, and don't worry about the Bandersnatch. He's just a mythical creature anyway. It's the mimsy borogoves that you really have to watch out for, because they chatter all the time, about anything at all, and often change the subject when you least expect it. If you're not careful, they can drive you sane. But if you just wave your vorpal blade at them, they go away.

I like it, that October Country over the rainbow. I try to go there as often as I can. You should try it some time.

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow, why then o why can't I. Well, it's not really necessary to fly over the rainbow to get to this October Country (see Ray Bradbury). You don't even need a rainbow, really. You just have to relax to unlock your mind's potential for insanity and just think yourself there, and you're there. See how easy it is? But don't forget that vorpal blade. In my opinion the blue ones work best although the orange ones are easier to see.

Oh, and one more thing. If you're ever on the beach and you happen to see a Walrus and a Carpenter walking toward you, you better be sure you have that vorpal blade, orange or blue either one. After all, you know what they did to the oysters. I would describe the incident here if I could bring myself to do it. But it was too horrible, and those oysters were some of my best friends. But I believe the incident was documented so you might be able to find out about it on the internet. Just remember to beware of the Walrus and the Carpenter, especially if they start talking about sealing wax and cabbages and kings and such.