Geesh easy to get first today I think. I once played on a course where cars used to drive on the course. Anyone remember Font Hill near Ellicott City. My speed now is either Putt putt or frisbee golf.

Oh, Good Morning Boodle.

I miss Monte's Miniature Golf, just north of the UMCP campus. Don't you just love a gnome -sized windmill that turns? BC, did you ever play on that little acre of silliness?

About five years ago, the Inner Harbor in Baltimore hosted a course featuring installations by local artists. Like playing in a surreal episode of Cartoon Network.

I think that the boodle could design fantabulous miniature golf courses. I think that Martooni could handle the fine detail and whimsy of the cunning wee structures.

About big golf, I feel a teeny, wheeny queasy as the golf course was on the other side of town where the big-house people played. Feels elitish a bit, from thes fingerprints of childhood....so, when I see Tiger W. or V. Singh on the course I am always pleased that golf is more open now than in days past. Tennis, too.

Also, late last night, I found the Roseville Fair neofolk song playing in my head. I am sure that is boodle=doing.

Bill Staines wrote this in 1979. His "fair" is more idealized, so imagine a British Isles fest from, say, 1880 transplanted here. No cotton candy or ferris wheel, but perhaps meat pie and exhibition wrestling by local ploughboys.

The Roseville Fair
(Bill Staines)

Oh, the night was clear, and the stars were shining
And the moon came up so quiet in the sky.
And the people gathered 'round and the band was a'tuning.
I can hear them now playing "Coming Thru the Rye."

And we danced all night to the fiddle and the banjo.
Their drifting tunes seemed to fill the air.
So long ago, but I still remember
When we fell in love at the Roseville Fair.

Sheet music, a midi file, and the rest of the lyrics here:
http://sniff.numachi.com/pages/tiROSEFAIR;ttROSEFAIR.html

Nancy Griffith covers this song quite nicely.

I will begin my search for a golf-inspired true or neo folk song.

This all reminds me of Sevenswans, who gwe says is well but wisely spending a summer without technology. So, imagine her playing this on hammered dulcimer, with many birds in the audience.

Spending the summer without technology? I wish I had that courage. I would probably go nuts.

Oh. Good morning, everybody.

A golf kit I am so excited. Did you find the ball? Which reminds me to go check "The Open" leaderboard.

Twenty seven dollars for 18 holes of golf? I could almost drive to DC to play a round there and still have it be cheaper than playing here. Is it close to downtown, might have to keep it in mind for future reference. If it is not a "top quality" course all the better as I am far from a top quality player.

*reposting*
Not having backBoodled, I offer my Gutternalia BPH observations at my own risk of BOOs... :-)

Redshirt bc bravely arrived first to defend the tables, fully expecting to not survive past the first commercial break. No Hortas, Borg or even Tribbles showed up, however, and 'Mudge and I quickly reinforced his position. The Achenwaitress discreetly hip-checked an interloping server out of the way to ensure we got our usual stellar service.

Mmmmmm... Mussel broth with extra bread... *cleaning up drool* :-)

Raysmom provided the proper signage, with omni, TBG, a stunningly early mo and Maggie O'D filling out the roster. Discussion touched on good names for an imaginary band, where one can find rarified air, and the topics of the day. Oh, and bc's pickle, too.

:-)

And YES, there were pics aplenty... Posting will follow, perhaps this evening.

And speaking of "sir" and "ma'am," the Achenwaitress "sirred" me last night. I was cut to the quick.

*end reposting with enthusiastic TGIF Grover waves*

:-)

Scotty, I am sure the "Sir" was just out of respect, you do have quite the distinguished air about you.

"Distiguished air," dmd??? That was the mussels, trust me. *L*

Well Scotty I don't know about you but I have found the "Grover Wave" to be very distinguished :-), one might say regal like.

I think Grover got knighted at some point, dmd, so that makes sense. :-)

A 5.27 a.m. kit? You having trouble sleeping, Joel?

Also, congratulations on your use of the very fine word "thwok." Mad Magazine's Don Martin would be very impressed. In fact, it made me realize that you bear a passing image of his famous Fester Bestertester character. (Which makes we wonder: does Newman resemble Karbuncle?)

SCC: "passing image of" obviously should be "to."

As Fester himself would say, Gaaaah.

SCC (accompanied by a "Fwap!" sound of hand slapping forehead): "a passing image to" makes no sense either.

Let's just leave it at "Joel=Fester."

I cannot golf. Note that I am not claiming that I cannot golf well. I am stating that I cannot play the game at all. For in golf, like all sports in which one object is used to strike another, a certain minimum level of coordination is required. A level of coordination routinely achieved by wee children, the chronically intoxicated, and the legally dead. I lack this level of coordination.

My father-in-law, for whom golf is the answer to all existential conundrums, initially resisted this conclusion. When I first married his daughter he spent many frustrating hours attempting to get me to master the fundamentals of the game. (Something about pretending to carry a platter of food when attempting to swing stands out in memory.)

Alas, he eventually realized that I was about as likely to master the intricacies of coordinated large body motion as I was the ability to ovulate. It just wasn't in my nature.

Eventually he decided to give up and hope for better luck with the grandchildren. And his patience paid off. My son is a respectable golfer, and when visiting the in-laws he will often spend time golfing with his grandfather. While the rest of us sit by the pool sipping exotic beverages.

So sometimes things do work out.

new kid on the block : just lurk for a while.
The Achenblog is unique.

(BTW: Do you know Donnie Wahlberg? My little sister thought he was super cute.)

"The game of golf would lose a great deal if croquet mallets and billiard cues were allowed on the putting green."

Ernest Hemingway

Welcome NK onthe Block. Feel free to bypass my medium longish post on neo folk song. For the record, I snipped verse 1 and the chorus. I cudda posted the whole enchilada...er burrito....

I guess we may be hot air, but we tend to be civil and silly and take liberties with tangets.

Would you care to post a semi- self-indulgent response to the golf blog entry? We will try it and perhaps riff on it.

Unlike other blogs, we don't spew invective or rant. Perhaps we might be boring.

Have you visited the On Balance WaPo blog? Such a study in mean mommyism and perfect parenting positions.

And NewKid, we might appear clannish. Imagine this is a bar. You see us all at two corner tables laughing AND getting good waitstaff attention.

Lurk, yes. Or even try asking us something like, "know any good miniature golf courses in the area?" Or any such stranger-in-town question.

Have a good day, and guess what? We mean it.

Just for the record, the new kid on the block is not me, the old newkidontheblog.

Joel, Now that I think about it a bit, what you report seems to express one of the unique characteristics of golf: the effect of the environment. Although in many sports the influence of different venues affects the play, in golf this is brought to a whole new creative level. The radical differences between courses seems to me to be part of the charm of the game.

Although, from your description the "charm" part of Rock Creek might be especially subtle.

Martooni, Thinking of you. Have you ever think of jotting down the short, wild stories you told little Beany in the nights? The Potter is come to an end tonight and you would be an excellent writer of short stories for the children.

Oh, and Error Flynn. If you suddenly find that the Ground Hogs are starting to pelt your house with golf balls, you will know where they got them.

New kid, I understand what you're saying. One of the great things about Achenblog is that the main item, the "kit" is easily accessed and the comment section, or "caboodle," remains hidden unless you click the link. Even if you want to leave a comment, and reading the rest of the comments irritates you, you can just click and scroll, leave your comment and skedaddle. If you do like to read what other people have to say then feel free to read, skim, pore, con, peruse, whatever, it's entirely up to you. I have been enjoying them since the beginning. I'm not the only one who reads every comment, every day--there's a bunch of us. If the comments aren't long-winded ENOUGH for you, after a while, you might want to check out our FAQ: http://boodle.wetpaint.com/page/Achenblog+FAQ

CP, did CeePee Boy swim last night?

Last night I dreamt a long, vivid, very life-like scenario. When I woke, I remembered that everyone in the dream called me "Yoki" and I responded as readily as I would to my real name. I don't know whether to be delighted or alarmed.

At least they didn't call me "dear."

One of the funniest sights to me is a golf course in New Orleans. Flat as a pancake. A couple of small rises where they piled up some dirt I guess and planted grass.

New NKOTB... you don't have to imagine us as a group at a bar; you could have seen it for real last night. And those of us who weren't there in person were definitely there in spirit.

[PS.. I love the Barenaked Ladies' song about you.]

For me golf is about standing in the middle of an empty field, fighting mosquitoes and black flies while waiting to be struck by lighting. I just don't get it. I played the few obligatory corporate games and the only thing I ever won was the prize for the biggest divot. I struck the underside of a large chunk of turf overhanging a sand bunker. I missed the ball and sprained my wrist of course but a 2 square feet island of turf got detached from the mainland and fell in the bunker. My partner insisted to bring the 20 lbs chunk with us to register it in the divot contest. The golf course maintenance crew gave me the evil eye for the rest of the day.

>I cannot golf.
RD, I'm right with ya on that. I can't hit a baseball either. Ever. I have clubs and balls and a farmers' field to aim over so I can actually try right from my tiki bar, and it's pitiful.

>Oh, and Error Flynn. If you suddenly find that the Ground Hogs are starting to pelt your house with golf balls, you will know where they got them.

Funny you should mention that. My buddy on vacation played a fair amount of golf back in the day and was hitting a bunch out on the back 40, said "this is back to normal, I lost 75% of them". So on the way out to the shore we spied a groundhog on the street where I *never* see them, and he glared right at me.

I suspect they're going to try to shag and trade the balls to support their nefarious purposes and strike back.

Yoki, yes. CeePeeBoy swam last night at the last practice before the huge divisionals meet on Sat. am. We are in the medium-intense bracket, so most of our swimmers will be smoked the following week in the All Stars meet. I expect CeePeeBoy to place or show, but not win. In swimming, all times are posted on line...you could actually have a virtual meet, instead of real ones. Apparently, in prairie places out west, the digital meet era is underway.

Mayent (how does that sound?) I brag, momentarily?

CeePeeBoy has the makings of a marvelous back stroke specialist. His shoulder joints are wacky-loose, yet he is moderately muscled. He has hyper-extended elbows. He is terrier-like in nature (game for anything) and fearless (will swim backward, trusting that seeing does NOT matter). After hitting his head on the wall one year, and going into seizure mode, he continued swimming backstroke the next day.

Like the Timex watch of the John Cameron Swayze era, takes a lickin' but keeps on tickin'.

However, unless a child commits to five-day/week 5AM year-round practice, he will stay in the bush leagues. Therefore, like many of us, he is a master in his small universe, but takes his lumps annually when he is smoked out of the water by amazing and dedicated year-round swimming folk.

Here is my point (sorry NKID if you are bored or irritated); HE DOES NOT CARE about losing big time. Oh, joy, for a child to work hard and be happy!

Yoki -- you can still get some garden action. Stay tuned.

CP, I think CeePee boy will be a very successful human being.

What EF and RD say, 'Mudge could comment on. Youth baseball is dying. One problem is that some kids can field but cannot hit. Hitting requires a specially set of skills and abilities. Golfing too. KIT CONNECTED!

(I am a hitless sort, too.)

This summer a student wrote directions on how to repair golf course "pimples." Apparently, he is so good, that he is on call for three area golf courses. Heroes are everywhere.

CP your description of CP Boy makes me nostagic for my past swimming days, my sister was the true swimmer in the family (backstroke specialty). Is this the asthma child? Quite an accomplishment if it is, good for him. I do not miss the 5am practises though, especially in winter when I would show up at school with frozen hair, never had time to dry it before school.

Hi DMD -- you chlorine gal, you. Yes, he is the asthma guy. Swimming, especially outdoors is practically a prescription for asthma-peeps. The breathing patterns -- unlike in anyother sport save religious-level yoga -- builds lung capactiy. Indoor swimming poses problems for some asthma kids, because the off-gassing of chlorine into the air. Outside, suspended CL is dispersed. CeePeeBoy's peak flow meter readings during swim season are stupendous....and fade during the winter.

Frozen hair! For him, he would be frozen plus snot-green.....and he already has that crispy hair that swimming guys sport since they tend to eschew a rinse and shampoo.....

CP thanks for answering a question I was not bold enough to ask. I too have asthma (didn't have it as a child) and indoors the chlorine can bother me.

There is a picture of me as a child on one of our vacations where my hair colour is the colour of wheat, crusty with the famous shine only chlorine can provide.

For me gold and swimming are similar they are both places where I can feel very relaxed and calm, on the golf course enjoying all the sights of trees, shrubs, flowers, birds, sound of the wind, my cursing when I miss a shot. The pool for me was a place to be truly alone with my thoughts, to day dreams, feel the rush of the water, and then hear my coaches and mother yelling at me to focus!

I do not golf, though I do miniature-golf. Actual golf and I have a long and highly neurotic relationship. When I was a kid, there were two golf courses within a 1/4 mile of our house, Oak Terrace CC and Squires CC. We were members of Oak Terrace because they had a big swimming pool, which is where I learned to be a water rat. When I was about 12, my father made my younger brother and me go to the country club on Saturday mornings to earn money by caddying. The object of the exercise was to learn how to earn money, etc.; he didn't care what we thought about golf as a sport. My brother and I both hated it, because we were still a little too small to be carrying full bags around a 5,000-yard course (Squires was even worse than OTCC: 6,000 yards and extremely hilly). Most of the caddies were older boys and bullies, so we usually were at the tail end of the line, and it wasn't unusual to wait five or six hours and still not get a round, and have to walk home empty-handed. If you got a gig, you got from $3 to $5 for a round for a single bag; sometimes you carried double and got maybe $7 to $10. (One day at Squires, the Archbishop of Philadelphia came out to play, and I got to carry double for him and whoever his golf partner was. Sumb1tch musta made me walk 12 miles that day. If he hit the right side of the fairway his partner hit far left. If he was long his partner was short. And they were NEVER on the same side of the green. I KNOW I walked twice as far as either of them did. I got $20, which was big money back then, but I've hated the Catholic Church leadership ever since. I was the guy cheering when the archbishop went over the railing in Godfather III. He shoulda had a 9-iron up his....well, never mind.)

One Saturday when I was waiting to caddy, the guy who ran the shoeshine concession in the clubhouse came out and said his regular helper had quit, and did anybody want a job shining shoes? There were only about three of us hanging around, and the other guys didn't want it, so I thought, what the he11, it's indoor work sitting down--that just HAD to be better than stumbling through the sweltering heat lugging a bunch of golf clubs around. So at the age of about 12 I got my very first job, as a shoeshine boy. The way it worked, golfers dropped off their street shoes by the shoeshine room adjacent to the locker on their way out to play, and I was supposed to shine them and put them by their lockers before they came back several hours later. I got a nickel a shoe, and if a golfer had two-tone shoes that required extra skill plus that white liquid application, then they were a dime a shoe. On a busy Saturday, I could make five or six bucks, which was as good or better than I'd make caddying.

So now, half a century later, I not only hate golf, I hate shining my shoes.

My father spent most of his working life in the trucking industry as a freight salesman and trucking terminal manager. Golf outings were pretty common in the trucking business, and perhaps two or three times a year he'd take a weekday off from work to go to some golf outing somewhere in the greater Philly region or New Jersey. As near as I could tell, the purpose of such outings were to play a round of golf as fast as possible and then go to the clubhouse and drink oneself into insensibility with one's comrades and associates. One year when I was about 14 or 15 my father got arrested for DUI driving home from a golf outing over near Pennsauken, New Jersey, and my mother--with smoke coming out her ears--had to drive over to Jersey to get him at the police station. I don't think she spoke to him for a month after that; it was *very* quiet around the house.

The highlight, though (and the point of this meandering story), is that when I was about 19 or 20 and in college, one day my father went to a golf outing and got arrested by the Upper Moreland police, again for DUI. I was watching TV about 10 at night when the phone rang, and a few minutes later my mother came into the TV room and said to me, "You go get the sonofab1tch this time." So I drove down to the Upper Moreland police station in Willow Grove (only 8 miles away) and picked him up.

Let me tell you, there is nothing, repeat nothing, quite so satisfying as bailing your own dad out of jail on a drunk driving charge when you are 19 years old. It's like a free pass for life, because you know that if the same thing ever happens to you (and when you're 19 or 20 or 21, you know the odds are pretty darn good it might), there's not a &^%$# thing your dad can say.

DMD -- I appreciate hearing the asthma stuff. Somehow it works to hear that others have this stuff too. You might breathe better in a bromine pool. Some pools use a mixture of strategies. College pools and elite clubs are moving toward bromine: less caustis on swimwear, vinyl/plastic parts, and even hair. Bromine is more expensive than chlorine systems.

CPBoy does better in a bromine pool, but no youth clubs swim at such. I have become quite the swimmer since I feel a need to be around when he swims, etc. PS. I swim with fins, almost exclusively. Cheating, I know. But the masters coaches are learning to live with it; and it keeps me out of adult swim meets. I am, however, a natural breast stroke swimmer. From years, perhaps of being a sprinter in high school and college. This seems to be the only swimming stroke where shorter peeps have a chance.

Ok, between Mudge ("Discussion touched on good names for an imaginary band, where one can find rarified air, and the topics of the day. Oh, and bc's pickle, too.") and RD ("Alas, he eventually realized that I was about as likely to master the intricacies of coordinated large body motion as I was the ability to ovulate.") folks in adjacent office areas are convinced I am insane. Women snorting uncontrolably at their screens tend to get that reaction. Thank goodness coffee wasn't involved.

CP, CeePee boy's attitude will serve him well in life. But you already knew that.

Today's Pearls Before Swine reminded me of the boodle. Websense keeps me from providing a link--sorry!

BPH was indeed a good time, and we made the most of people-watching opportunities. Men's pointy shoes, a woman's Woody Woodpecker laughter, the works.

The purpose of golf is to provide a convenient location for cross-country runners to practice.

Mornin' Boodle...

Still here. Passed the danger/misery stage and now just dealing with moderate jitters and occasional discombobulance. Only did a six-pack yesterday and haven't had a drop since 5pm -- and don't plan on any more drops. Ever (I hope).

Anyway, I took my name off the waiting list at the clinic -- even if they got me in today, it would be pointless since all the heavy lifting is done. Let some other poor bugger in worse shape have my place.

Peace

[* pushing start on the counter *]

Martooni, good to hear from you. Be ordinary. Be brave. Let us know when the woodshop is open.

High fivin' you and dropping off a thermos of good proletariet coffee plus 'Mudge's faux sour cherry pie, since sour cherries have yet to arrive in the market.

CP good for you for participating in Masters swimming. At my Dad's funeral I had a chance to catch up with a neighbour of ours when I was growing up. An architect he built a house with an indoor pool, he had been swimming for around 50 years now, the last thirty(?) at a masters level, touring the world for competitions. Not sure his current age 75-80?, he looks amazing and is quite an inspiration. We also have another family friend who at 86 still plays a mean game of tennis, he and my mom played a lot when I was growing up, he has conceded slightly to age as he only plays doubles now. I think even at 86 he could still easily beat me in a game.

Howdy. My dad played golf every weekend when I was a kid, and my mom played often as well. I never learned. Ivansdad is an avid golfer. He made it a condition of our marriage that I learn to play, and I cheerfully agreed, because (lawyer alert) he didn't say when. I'm sure I'll get around to it someday. I have actually tried to play and have no skill or ability (though I'm okay with miniature golf). I like being on the golf course, I'm just not interested in the game. I encourage him to play with the Boy, who also isn't really interested but at least will try.

Martooni, it is good to hear from you. Congratulations for beginning again. Now that you've got through the detox, don't go it alone. Find a meeting. As someone said earlier, if you have trouble with the underlying AA philosophy, fake it and go through the motions until something starts working for you. Looking forward to seeing the counter.

Every once in a while, mrdr likes to pretend I can golf. He suffers under the delusion that if I do it more often, I will improve. He bought me clubs, and a really nice bright yellow golf bag, and some spiffy white shoes, and even some of those little white calf skin gloves.

So far, I am very very good at proving him wrong. I did bear progeny who golf. The boys have been whacking things around since they were 2 and 3.

Martooni good to hear from you, good luck moving forward.

About 15 years ago I decided I should take up golf (that wording is deliberate--see the warning sign?) I took two stints of group lessons, went to the driving range regularly, and finally gave up. I realized that, to be even OK at it required a level of practice and persistance that just wasn't worth it to me. I didn't enjoy the game well enough for it to be worth it. If I want to enjoy the outdoors, I just go for a walk. So dmd and anyone else who has gotten over this hurdle, my hat's off to you.

Busy morning, then off to lunch at an Unspecified Location with Nobody.

Had a fine time at the BPH, missed all of you who weren't there. The pics should be - interesting. [bc, looking worried] Scotty, there aren't any pics of my pickle, are there?

I've played golf since I was a teenager, but only a few times a year. For all that, I don't embarass myself too often, and occasionally hit lucky shots that make me weep with joy, like a drive off a par 3 at Hains Point that stopped about a foot from the hole [sank the Birdie putt], and proving that I could too drive a 3 wood 200 yards off of a fairway at Redgate, with the ball stopping about 4 feet from the pin, much to the shock of my boss at the time.

CP, I did indeed play Monte's back in the day.

Just a note that today is July 20th, the 38th anniversary of Armstong and Aldrin's landing Eagle on that big sleeping satellite in our sky. If that generates a Tasmin Archer tune cootie for some of you, you're welcome.

bc

It was easy for me Raysmom, like Mudge we belonged to a Golf club when I was growing up, Dad played a lot, mom a little - this was in the days when women could only play on one day or at set times. My oldest brother plays as well and one of his sons is an excellent young golfer. From as far back as I can remember after dinner on Sundays Dad, my brother and I and sometimes mom, and my sister and other brother would head to the back yard and hit golf balls (60-90 yards depending on where we were living). As the years past I began to take and interest in playing the game, it was a good opportunity for my husband and I to enjoy some time together.

We still have that family tradition, after dinner at my parents who ever wanted to would head outside to hit golf balls. In a little over a month we will complete the sale of the my parents final home - I think out last duty will be to hit a round of balls in the yard.

Actually, bc, that engenders a "Ptang! Ptang! Zooooooooooom! Come in, Buzz Aldrin!" kinda cootie.

:-)

Space.Food.Sticks

A quick follow-up thought.

Joel, what you describe would not happen to Tiger Woods, but it *would* happen to Phil Mickelson. Ever since he had that one crazy hole at Tiger's tournament here a few weeks ago, he's been prone to it.

God does not play dice, but he does play golf with Heisenberg, who can't ever watch his ball and remember what color, brand or model he's playing, and if he does remember, he loses track of the ball.

Heisenberg's golf game sounds a bit like Joel's, come to think of it.

bc

>an affidavit affirming that what I am about to report is true

Everyone knows there are no athiests in foxholes or in golf.

Dear Anonymously Confused:

You just don't get it.

You got something against words?

bc, say howdy to your lunch companion for me.

Ach, one last:

martooni, I'm glad you're making progress, sir. Please consider asking for help or trying to get on a list pronto if you need it. We care, and we want to see you happy and healthy and successful at getting your life where you want it to go.

bc

Yoki, your "dear" comment made me remember dinner the other night -- the waiter kept calling me "my dear." Okay, maybe it was only once or twice, but it felt like a pattern. Fine from a grandmotherly type with a southern accent at good old down home place (though then "honey" is really what's called for), but from a youngish guy at a place pretending to be fancy? My future mother-in-law said it was because I was young, but then later he called her "my dear," too. I'm not generally the umbrage-taking sort, so it's no big deal, but still irritating enough to stick around in the memory.

OK, now I'm really mad. The powers that be at wapo.com have removed the little drop-down menus for columns from the main Columns & Blogs page. So, to get my advice fix (Ask Amy, Hax, Miss Manners) I have to go to the Style page and scroll and scroll until I find them.

Geez. First they messed up access to discussions, then they eliminated two of the most important news links from the home page, and now this!

I thought I handled the whole redesign with great maturity and condescension, but now it's personal.

Don't play golf.

Yoki, your "dear" comment made me remember dinner the other night -- the waiter kept calling me "my dear." Okay, maybe it was only once or twice, but it felt like a pattern. Fine from a grandmotherly type with a southern accent at good old down home place (though then "honey" is really what's called for), but from a youngish guy at a place pretending to be fancy? My future mother-in-law said it was because I was young, but then later he called her "my dear," too. I'm not generally the umbrage-taking sort, so it's no big deal, but still irritating enough to stick around in the memory.

Copy that, Mudge.

bc

Oops, sorry about the double post.

new kid (I assume that's you posting anonymously?), I find it amusing that you express your concern for excess verbiage in multiple repetitive posts. :)

Anonymous, how many words is it over the three ("don't play golf") that form the basis for your question? Be specific. Count 'em up, report the number, and your query will have some substance. If you're counting Boodle posts, please disregard in your count all off-topic references to swimming, forms of address, and Martooni.

I wonder if a certain somebody is feeling any umbrage for being called a nobody?

From the Government Institute of Language Preservation comes this warning: There is a coming scarcity of words. Due to atmospheric interferences as yet to be identified, experts predict a coming word shortage. Unless everyone worldwide commits to a 50-75% reduction in word usage, we will run out of words by 2027. This applies only to the written word. Drivel uttered over cell phones while walking down the street, driving,standing in the supermarket line, etc. etc. appear to have no impact on the impending crisis.

Raysmom, I think we could still comfortably make quota on word count if certain people (i.e., certain age groups) simply omitted, "like," and "ya know," and "and I'm, like, ya know, [quoted content] and so then she's like, ya know [quoted content], and then I'm, like, ...[etc.]."

Raysmom, this crisis calls for intervention by Harry Potter. Think JK will be up to it?

Don't play golf, either, TBG.

Anonymous poster at 10:52 AM contributes: "I'm confused. Why so many words to say "Don't play golf"?"

Your confusion arises from the fact that you are socially inept. Don't worry; nothing to be ashamed about; it's just an unfortunate disadvantage with which some of us must struggle. You happen to be one of them. Despite lacking a talent in this regard, you may nevertheless find it valuable to be able to interpret such situations, thus I will presume to instruct you.

The point is that these posts are not about playing golf. Golf discussion is merely a pretext, the raw clay from which one molds a sculpture to express one's experience of the human condition, to share this experience with others and thus achieve an element of emotional resonance.

It may be that your social ineptitude has left you unable to perceive subtext in other important arenas, depriving you of an awareness of much of the content of Western literature. As a helpful hint, let me give you a few tidbits to start you down the road to effective literary interpretation:

"The Chronicles of Narnia" is not about a made-up place called Narnia. It's about the development of moral consciousness, and the experience of leading a moral life, within Christian theology. Aslan the Lion is really Jesus.

"Lord of the Flies" also is Christianity expressed as an adventure story. Simon is Jesus, or perhaps Moses. The Boar's Head on a spear is the Golden Calf (yep, sounds like Moses more than Jesus). The narrator (what's his name?) definitely is the apostle Peter.

"A Modest Proposal" is not an advocacy statement for the benefits of eating Irish babies, it is a long-form joke (aka, "satire") that depicts the ultimate expression of man's inhumanity to man as the logical fulfillment of social policies and attitudes toward the downtrodden and oppressed.

In "The Scarlet Letter", Hester Prinn is a symbolic representation of Mary Magdalene and the parable about throwing stones -- yep, Christianity, again. The most moral person is the one who has "sinned" and acknowledges it.

"Little Miss Sunshine" is not about the emotionally abusive children's beauty pageant industry.

"The Lion King" is really "Hamlet", with most of the good parts removed, but it has a better theme song.

"John Henry" is not about on-the-job injury, workmen's compensation, and the benefits of automation and mechanization, it is about the nobility of striving against the insurmountable.

"Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" is not about the descent of an ill-bred boy into a life of crime and degradation. It is about the dichotomy between socially-rewarded action and self-evidently moral action. See, also, Henry David Thoreau's essay on Civil Disobedience ( http://thoreau.eserver.org/civil.html ).

"Casey at the Bat" is not about baseball, it is about an arrogant jerk and the wages of hubris.

"The Bush Presidency" is not about military success, it is about an arrogant jerk and the wages of hubris.

I hope this will be of some help to you.

bia - yes, anonymous person is cracking me up. Clearly, we've gotten under his/her skin. Talk about a lot of hot air!

dmd - your 10:39 - I'm glad you have that nice memory.

Raysmom - I had never read the Mommy blog until you mentioned it the other day...criminy! That's scary! Those people are MEAN!

My father was a scratch golfer and all my brothers are very good. They all offered to teach my husband when we got married, but hubby didn't take them up on it until a few years ago. My dad was diagnosed with cancer a few months after lessons began and was able to play for only a couple of months after that. Hubby and my dad played what was to be his last round of golf (didn't know that at the time) and they had a great time yukking it up that a 75 yr old with cancer could beat the daylights out of the whippersnapper son-in-law. Well, at least my dad had a good time yukking it up...

Oh, Tim, Tim, Tim. Your 11:34 needs to be carved on the side of a building somewhere. I'm actually a little verklempt. Wonderful.

Me = (_EMc2_)

*for those who eschew words*

:-)

ScienceKid #2 expressed some concern last night at dinner that I might not have sufficiently funny last words planned for when the inevitable arrives. I'm sure, now, that I'll choke at the last moment (as it were). At best, I might get out something derivative, ripping off Santa Ana: "Don't let it end this way. Tell them I said something." Weingarten has already claimed "I wish I'd spent more time at the office." I'm thinking of "I wish I'd eaten more cheese" if the context is inappropriate for my first choice: "oops" or (time permitting) "well, that didn't work." I'd like to avoid the last word that reportedly is most common on cockpit voice recorders: "[bowel movement]!"

Splendid, StorytellerTim. What a primer for the subtextually challenged!

Hamlet. I hadn't thought of that. I love it. I bet Ivansdad already got there, but then, like you, he thinks about these things professionally. We dilettantes take longer.

Actually, ScienceKid#2 (should that be StorytellerKid?) recently asked if there had been a book of The Lion King before the movie. I said "sure, it's called Hamlet." I admitted it was actually a play, so the crossover is not complete.

I decided to avoid commenting on "Oedipus Rex" and the Oresteian Trilogy -- possibly because I have never seen nor read any of them all the way through, either. At least, I know the mythological story of Oedipus. Except, shouldn't that be "Oedipus Basileus"?

Now, who can help me on one that I have never read, nor seen all the way through -- "Waiting for Godot"?

Hello boodlers. Glad you had fun at the BPH. I always look forward to the pictures. I am a terrible golfer but strangely I like to watch the game and don't even mind riding along in the golf cart--I read while they play and look up occasionally. But only 9 holes. I just like being outside. And golf courses are usually beautiful. Except Rock Creek Golf Course. Picturing Joel and the disappearing ball made me think of Caddy Shack. Probably the funniest movie ever. Ya never know, Joel. Thwok on.

Kim, your story brought tears to my eyes, my husband and father were very close and they enjoyed golfing together, sometimes with my uncle as well. They are memories my husband will always cherish, and laugh as dad wandered in the woods to find the lost golf balls others left behind - yet again.

StoryTeller Tim, you've reminded me of my priciple task for the day. To locate and purchase a copy of Branagh's 'Love's Labour Lost'. I've seen it before, and caught the last half hour of it last night.

I'll give it a shot:

'Waiting for Godot' is not about two doofuses (or doofi) waiting for an acquainance they barely know. It's about a boot. Which is why this play belongs in the category called "Theater of the Absurd".

What do you want to know about "Waiting for Godot," Tim? Wikipedia says it was voted "the most significant English language play of the 20th century, which I think is going somewhat overboard. In general, I think it performs better on stage than it reads as a play.

Also according to a source: "The Irish critic Vivian Mercier called Waiting for Godot a play in which 'nothing happens, twice'." Which I suppose would make it a Seinfeld re-run back-to-back.

In 1989 director Mike Nichols (The graduate) did a revival of it at Lincoln Center featuring (get this) Steve Martin, Robin Williams, Bill Irwin and F. Murray Abraham--and the critics hated it, to whit:

"Manchester Guardian Weekly
November 20, 1988
Pg. 27
Godot with pratfalls
W. J. Weatherby at the Lincoln Centre

MIKE NICHOLS'S much heralded production of Waiting for Godot at New York's Lincoln Centre is based on a new text received from Samuel Beckett in August just in time for rehearsals. Until this new text is published, it is hard to say just how much Beckett is responsible for turning Godot into a tropical American comedy, with even a joke about the election.

Certainly comedian Robin Williams, the master improviser, broke the promise he made in rehearsals to play Estragon straight with no riffing. While the master of mime, Bill Irwin, was in the middle of Lucky's intellectual ramble, Williams apparently could restrain himself no longer and, in the manner of a stand up comic seeking audience participation, he ambled over to the front row and borrowed a woman's programme. He giggled wildly when he spotted his own name in it and then shared the joke with Vladimir, played by Steve Martin.

The audience's laughter seemed to inspire him to stray even further from the text. Seeing Bill Irvin still crazily orating, he cried at him "you're a liberal" and the audience, recognising the allusion to Michael Dukakis, laughed even louder. The audience seemed to be all for the improvisations and additions to the text. At the interval an actor behind me praised Robin Williams for being "remarkably controlled" and he was serious.

Beckett's drama certainly lost its bleakness and sense of "nothingness" with Messrs Williams and Martin enlivening it with almost every classic comedy routine from Laurel and Hardy slapstick to a Charlie Chaplin game with a bowler hat. There was even a Robin Williams mocking impersonation of military macho. Whether any of it was spontaneous improvisation from their extensive repertoire or whether it was all carefully rehearsed one couldn't be sure, but Mike Nichols's original conception seemed to be to stress the comic side by Americanising the play with Martin and Williams in seedy clothes resembling two of New York's homeless waiting not for Godot but for free dinners.

Godot's symbols and double meaning faded into the background as this duet took over. There is nothing like broad comedy of the Williams and Martin kind to bring a dramatist down to earth. Beckett's pregnant pauses and dramatic use of silence that can seem so dull and draggy in more solemn productions was here a wonderful excuse for matchless mime worthy of the great silent comedies, but inevitably some of the meaning of Beckett's fable of Everyman was lost in the fun.

F. Murray Abraham's Pozzo and Irwin's Lucky the slave master and his slave were strangely the only characters who were not Americanised or fitted into the comedy act although it would have been easy to do so just by casting a black actor as Lucky.

The biggest loss came at the end when Steve Martin's twilight soliloquy seemed too low key and to be playing on the audience's sentimental sympathy after his continual high spirits of the preceeding two acts. Martin's professional manner, bland with a touch of genuine innocence, so amusing when he was playing the bum picking fleas off his seedy clothes, appeared too solemn when he was seriously philosophising. He met the fate of any comedian who plays Hamlet. One noticed not only what a fake philosopher he was but also what a fake bum.

Turning Beckett's feast of agnostic irony into a series of revue sketches threatened to make Godot no more than a vehicle for Martin's and Williams' favourite routines. Steve Martin in a film recently turned Cyrano de Bergerac into a contemporary American with a long nose and he has now done much the same with Vladimir. As Mike Nichols did not stride on stage to demand what the hell Williams was doing, his improvisations presumably had the director's approval. But one wonders if there will be any negative reaction when news reaches the author in Paris."

Be that as it may, I think the version I wish I'd seen was the 1956 Broadway version with the great Bert Lahr (Cowardly Lion in Wizard of Oz, for you untutored young'uns), E.G. Marshall and Kurt Kazner:

"April 20, 1956
Beckett's 'Waiting for Godot'
By BROOKS ATKINSON
Don't expect this column to explain Samuel Beckett's "Waiting for Godot," which was acted at the John Golden last evening. It is a mystery wrapped in an enigma.
But you can expect witness to the strange power this drama has to convey the impression of some melancholy truths about the hopeless destiny of the human race. Mr. Beckett is an Irish writer who has lived in Paris for years, and once served as secretary to James Joyce.

Since "Waiting for Godot" has no simple meaning, one seizes on Mr. Beckett's experience of two worlds to account for his style and point of view. The point of view suggests Sartre--bleak, dark, disgusted. The style suggests Joyce--pungent and fabulous. Put the two together and you have some notion of Mr. Beckett's acrid cartoon of the story of mankind.

Literally, the play consists of four raffish characters, an innocent boy who twice arrives with a message from Godot, a naked tree, a mound or two of earth and a sky. Two of the characters are waiting for Godot, who never arrives. Two of them consist of a flamboyant lord of the earth and a broken slave whimpering and staggering at the end of a rope.

Since "Waiting for Godot" is an allegory written in a heartless modern tone, a theatre-goer naturally rummages through the performance in search of a meaning. It seems fairly certain that Godot stands for God. Those who are loitering by the withered tree are waiting for salvation, which never comes.

The rest of the symbolism is more elusive. But it is not a pose. For Mr. Beckett's drama adumbrates--rather than expresses--an attitude toward man's experience on earth; the pathos, cruelty, comradeship, hope, corruption, filthiness and wonder of human existence. Faith in God has almost vanished. But there is still an illusion of faith flickering around the edges of the drama. It is as though Mr. Beckett sees very little reason for clutching at faith, but is unable to relinquish it entirely.

Although the drama is puzzling, the director and the actors play it as though they understand every line of it. The performance Herbert Berghof has staged against Louis Kennel's spare setting is triumphant in every respect. And Bert Lahr has never given a performance as glorious as his tatterdemalión Gogo, who seems to stand for all the stumbling, bewildered people of the earth who go on living without knowing why.

Although "Waiting for Godot" is an uneventful, maundering, loquacious drama, Mr. Lahr is an actor in the pantomime tradition who has a thousand ways to move and a hundred ways to grimace in order to make the story interesting and theatrical, and touching, too. His long experience as a bawling mountebank has equipped Mr. Lahr to represent eloquently the tragic comedy of one of the lost souls of the earth.

The other actors are excellent, also. E. G. Marshall as a fellow vagrant with a mind that is a bit more coherent; Kurt Kasznar as a masterful egotist reeking of power and success; Alvin Epstein as the battered slave who has one bitterly satirical polemic to deliver by rote; Luchino Solito De Solis as a disarming shepherd boy--complete the cast that gives this diffuse drama a glowing performance.

Although "Waiting for Godot" is a "puzzlement," as the King of Siam would express it, Mr. Beckett is no charlatan. He has strong feelings about the degradation of mankind, and he has given vent to them copiously. "Waiting for Godot" is all feeling. Perhaps that is why it is puzzling and convincing at the same time. Theatregoers can rail at it, but they cannot ignore it. For Mr. Beckett is a valid writer."

Oog. Anonymous, you have got me. I am wounded. I wither before your scathing wit and sharp rhetoric. Surely, you are the Pithy Man.

Sigh...snarky wasn't good enough for Anonymous, now he/she is getting nasty. What's up with that?

Didi and I were going to sue Warner Bros. for copying our characters with their "Mac and Tosh" chipmunk characters but our lawyer never got back to us.

Anonnew guy, now you've got it. Its an Achenaddiction. And I see that by your manyposts, yours is coming along right nicely.

Susbstance, sir, we demand substance. If it be drivel, then let it be substantial drivel.

Byoolin, It seems to me that Newman, probably looks a lot more like this guy. http://hypocrisytoday.com/alfred.htm

I'm so disappointed. I Googled, and can't find a source for Pithy Man costumes. Must have to wait until Halloween.

Birdie, "Thwok on" is terribly funny. I'm thinking of a rock fan with a speech impediment.

We also demand spaces between words. SCC Anon new guy, and many posts.

Just don't ask me to correct any spelling errors. I can't see for all the red ink.

I can't golf. My husband took me once (after much persuasion on his part). I wore a skirt. That tells you what a golfer I am. By the 7th hole I was just "guiding" the ball to the hole. Instead of driving it, I picked it up and threw it once because I can throw much farther than I can drive.

I prefer racquetball.

I haven't been here in over a year. I'm glad there are still friendly faces. And that the blog monster is still the main picture. Fabulous illustration.

Pozzo informs me that Mac and Tosh pre-date Waiting for Godot by 2 years.

Nevermind.

Hummm. 'En attendant Godot' can't really be "the most significant English language play of the 20th century" as it was written in French. It was my own recollection that, although an Irishman, Beckett wrote mostly in French after WWII. The guy's name is Estragon, not Tarragon. So, according to another Wiki entry, Sam B. wrote the play in 1948-49' and it was translated in English and shown in London circa 1952.

"My Mensa chapter isn't near as boring, and that is saying plenty!"

They tell you it's Mensa, do they? Have you checked the signature on the canceled checks for your dues?

Irony. You enjoy sneering at us and deriding us. Yet, you have been here and paying attention for hours, seeking solely to offer insulting jabs rather than offering some productive contribution to the conversation. How is this not the behavior of "the pathetic and the lonely"? Your need to come back with a rejoinder to every comment, in each case posing as snide and superior -- how is this not "posturing?"

You belong to Mensa, Anonymous? That's where I met my ex. I never met so many people I didn't care for, in one place.

Welcome back Sara.

Oh, and Godot that I have seen twice is as inscrutable in French as it is in English. This is NOT a problem of translation.

Sara's back! Welcome back, Sara! You don't know me -- I was only lurking when you were around. But I was thinking of you recently, because I've become obsessed with wedding dress shopping (almost a year out; sigh, I hate being a cliche), and I was remembering your report on finding your great dress.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dearie me.

Buh-bye. Good luck with your membership in Menses, or whatever it was.

Hey Sara! Long time no boodle, good to hear from you! How's the hubby?

Nice to meet you, bia! Good luck with the wedding dress shopping. It can be completely awful but it can also be incredibly fun. Especially once you put "the dress" on.

Boodle crashers...can't live with 'em...

Yoki, that's priceless.

Yanno, I really didn't care for many of the folks in the local Mensa chapter. They may have been good at tests but their social skills were...lacking. (Not that mine were great, 30 years ago, but still.)

Excellent parting shot, Mudge...

I think I started to lurk the day Sara posted her wedding pictures. Hello Sara, I'm Yoki.

Hey dmd and slyness!

The hubby is good. Working. Biology-ing. Life is pretty routine.

Nice to meet you, Yoki!

For all you poison ivy suffers, a tip from Mary Schmich of the Chicago Tribune and friend of fellow columnist Eric Zorn (of the 1500-posts-on-his-blog fame).

9 things to keep your summer going smoothly -- chicagotribune.com

Sara!! *LTNS Grover waves* :-)

Sorry. Link didn't work.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/chi-schmich20jul20,0,1541907.col

4. Tecnu. Hiking in Northern California a few months ago, a friend and I strayed into a thicket of poison oak.

Terrified of an itching outbreak, we asked a clerk at the Point Reyes market what to do.

He instantly plucked the skin cleanser Tecnu from the shelf and made the kind of enthusiastic product endorsement I later found echoed on the Internet. Tecnu prevents a rash by removing the oils of poison oak, ivy or sumac.

Hey, hello Sara! I also think I was lurking as you were getting ready for the wedding; the pictures were lovely. I'm glad you're back.

AND you made me laugh out loud with "Instead of driving it, I picked it up and threw it once because I can throw much farther than I can drive." Now that's how I could play golf!

Hi Scottynuke and Ivansmom!

Ivansmom, I remember you from before I left so you must have started boodling before my disappearing act. Though I have stopped in from time to time and done my own lurking lately, so maybe that's where I know you from.

Hey Sara, welcome back, been thinking about you a little lately. Oh yeah: Bang.

You may remember Yoki as Stampede (which I always thought was a way cool handle).

Hi Sara! Apparently I came here after you left.

Great post over on the John Kelly chat:
"News release says Bush is to have a colonoscopy tomorrow. What will they be looking for? His head?"

I can drive further than I throw but I have vectorial issues. Say the pin is 200 yards North I'm likely to twock the ball 40 yards North and 200 yards West-North-West. I have to play with radio-active balls and a good Geiger counter to keep my ball loss to a reasonble level.

Sara's back?! This is a good day!!!

How have you been? I hope you are doing well and that you still dislike John Steinbeck.

We actually talked about that Bush article this morning at work. We were saying we'd rather the huge grab-your-attention headline read, "minor procedure."

Bia and Sara may be in the coveted under-35 demographic. If so, invite your friends.

HEY BOSS GUY OVERLORD! Are you keeping track?

*sending a quick fax to CNSC about shriek's golfing habits*

:-)

I do still dislike John Steinbeck. He still dehydrates me. When my husband thinks I haven't had enough water that day he mentions Steinbeck. Works every time.

Hi Sara! Great to see you.

Enjoyed a fine lunch today at an undisclosed location. But it's amazing that someone can find a place to park a big black helicopter at a shopping mall!

We need to find more boodlers in the Tysons area so's we can have more lunchtime Gutternalia. Daytime BPHs are just as much fun.

Hi, Sara.

Welcome back, it's nice to see you.

bc

Does this headline have anything to do with GWB's upcoming colonoscopy?

Administration Claims Broader Privilege Scope

Scotty, my esteemed colleagues over at the CNSC don't get excited with low activity stuff. One of our guys had to rattle their cage pretty hard to make them look at crappy drums used for yellow cake. So, don't hold your breath waiting for a reply.

TBG, I think it may have more to do with this headline: "Why Is Bush So Happy?"

Actually the real Bush headline is funnier yet: it is: "Bush to Have Colonoscopy, Hand Power to Cheney." Uh, didn't he pretty much do that six years ago?

"Cheney will serve as acting president until such time as Bush, who will be under anesthesia for the procedure, says he is ready to resume his duties, presidential spokesman Tony Snow told reporters.

The handover, expected to last two to three hours, will be just the third time in U.S. history that a president has made use of the Constitution's transfer of power to a vice-president."

In an unrelated news the Islamic Republic of Iran is now at Def Con 1.

Yes, they are, TBG.

Even when no alcohol whatsoever is involved.

Raysmom: "News release says Bush is to have a colonoscopy tomorrow. What will they be looking for? His head?"

WMDs?
Executive privilege?
A strategy to win in Iraq?
Harriet Miers?
Rove's wristwatch?

Ok, those last two were probably over the top (or under the bottom); sorry.

Instead of looking there, maybe they should look in Mianus. Speaking of which; "Leaving Mianus" is not as depressing a film as you might think.

All right, all right, stopping now.

bc

Thanks, Maggie O'D. Your description really matches thwok on, too. "A rock fan with a speech impediment." Hahaha. :-)

TBG - Look, like I said at the time, I really thought the roof would hold.

Anyway, both TBG and bc are delightful people to have lunch with. We came up with excellent solutions to all the world's problems. Sadly, though, we forgot to write them down.

Sara! Welcome back. I hope you have the opportunity to stick around a bit.

Maggie O'D - I buy Tecnu in the industrial size. It works great if you use it right away. The other thing that works to prevent the rash from forming is good old-fashioned Lye soap.

Scitim, Waiting for Godot is short on written dialogue. In a way, the pause between dialogue reflects the sense of being lost.

My English teacher once said that "Waiting for Godot" was a hit in a prison-- all the prisoners grasped the emotional context immediately.

Don't worry RD, I secretly recorded the whole thing.

bc

For the folks whose names are on the titles of the black helicopters; I was just kidding with my 3:00 comment.

Really.

bc

Gol darn it, Sara, Ivansmom, SD, you sound like my kind of golfers.

Sara, I was just thinking of you. My son got married last weekend, and I thought of you. I wore flip flops, NICE ONES, with little jeweley things on the straps. It was hot as hades(people were wearing clam diggers and only sadists wore suit jackets. I was cool and comfy and had a wonderful time. The bride's mother was just a tad jealous of my footwear.

Did the lunch involve big purple bows worn on shoulders?

I guess Frosti is at her family reunion. I want to show her this great hire for police chief...

http://img503.imageshack.us/img503/7212/muffinssx5.png

W must be sicker than we thought:

"President Bush signed an executive order Friday prohibiting cruel and inhuman treatment, including humiliation or denigration of religious beliefs, in the detention and interrogation of terrorism suspects."
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070720/ap_on_go_pr_wh/bush_terrorism;

Call me paranoid, but I don't think Uncle Dick is gonna give back the keys to the shop...

Well, since this seems to be a somewhat morbid Friday, today's "killer" quiz:

http://encarta.msn.com/quiz_266/natures_killers.html?GT1=10187

9/10, and not one of 'em glows in the dark!

:-)

dr, I wore flip flops to my wedding. I sewed jewels on myself. I'm short and I didn't want to send my dress to be hemmed from the waist because the last thing I needed was to add $200 onto the bill and I definitely didn't want to wear 3.5" heels all day. I can't walk in 3.5" heels, let alone dance. Flip flops are the way to go.

Congratulations on your son's wedding!

Personally, I really hope that Snape turns out to be good, and I certainly don't want one of the main three to die. It would be sadistic. Also I can't get over the feeling that there is more to the linkage between Petunia and Lilly than we have been let on.

Oops. Sorry. Wrong Blog.

Speaking of Harry Potter, is anyone else getting the book tonight? Because I sure am.

n/10 on the quiz, where n=whatever the number is and the accompanying text that didn't appear over the background image, presumably due to some weird thing going on with the firewall or the browser or possibly my contact lenses.

For the purposes of this exercise, let n=10.

8/10. I don't know my eagles and crocs.

8/10 on the killers quiz. However, I do believe that I was robbed. On the spider question, they unfairly smear a spider, which has not actually been shown to be guilty of causing death -- unless they mean in the same sense that a honeybee sting "may cause death in humans" because of an allergy. On the crocodilian question, the answer also is unfair, as every one of those animals is, in fact, a crocodile -- in the answer, they make a specific species identification which is not in the question as asked. Personally, I maintain that I got at least 9/10, and possibly better. So there.

I am under pressure to do to but I told the girls I'll get the book at 30% discount next Saturday while I'd get a 10% discount tomorrow. I have been deemed a very bad, cheap parent.

Sara - My son and I are getting it first thing in the morning. As a 16 year old, he grew up on Harry.

I heard that JK Rowlings just stops writing on the last page after Hermione, Ron, and Harry share some onion rings.

And 9/10, I don't know my iggles apparently.

In his Maclean's magazine column, Scott Feschuk has a list of the biggest surprises in the new Potter book.

(Example: "Turns out nobody at the school has any magical abilities whatsoever - Harry was just high the whole time.")

Scroll down to the second item in his column at http://forums.macleans.ca/advansis/?mod=for&act=dip&pid=64003&tid=64003&eid=13&so=1&ps=0&sb=1

We're going to the party at Barnes and Noble and then buying the book at Wal-Mart at midnight because it's half-price there. It's half-price at Barnes and Noble, too, if you're a member (and I am), I just want to get my book before 2 a.m. this year.

6 out of 10. Apparently I don't know my crocs, spiders, eagles or wild dogs.

Scotty, can't ya find a d@mn quiz about semicolons or classic movies or naval battles or spy novels or something?

Hey, Sara, welcome back. Missed ya, kid.

Thanks Scotty I feel redeemed, I was doing great but didn't get the last three, rhino/hippo it was a coin toss just picture hippos as calmer. Aligator/crocodile I always get confused on them and I have never heard of a Harpy Eagle.

7/10 I am OK with that.

Sara and dr, I am going to a wedding next week, bejewelled flip flops sounds like a great idea - too casual for an evening wedding? Very fancy, plus my kids are in the wedding party so looking appropriate will probably matter.

Hogwarth was just a high school in Québec?

http://www.canada.com/montrealgazette/news/story.html?id=89dd1b3f-eaf2-4945-99d9-de420f19dbd5&k=64745

Anyway, I'm going to stay off the 'puter this evening to avoid the inevitable Potter Spoilers. Have a great weekend folks!

10/10! All correct! One hunert precent! O joy and jubilation!
Can I join that Pensa whatchayamajiggerit now?

9/10 on the killers quiz. Missed the eagle question. I guess loving to watch shows on Animal Planet pays off.

byoolin, I liked Scott's breakdown of the political speech.

9/10 on the quiz, got #9 wrong, I also have never heard of a Harpy Eagle. I only had to guess on three of them however.

Let no one say I don't take requests...

http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/departments/education_1/?page=quiz51&Quizid=51

7/10, BTW

:-)

SCC whatchyamajiggerit

Once again, let us assume n=10.

I am *really* good at these, no?

I IM'ed with Son of G about Scott Feschuk's surprises and he wrote back...

OF COURSE..

HARRY POTHEAD AND THE SORCERER'S BONG

duh

8/10. Killer carnivores I know better then grammar.

(hehehe)

9/10 on the grammar quiz. Score one for technical writing. Though, to be fair, we had to take an almost identical quiz in that class last semester. That was kind of like using a cheat sheet on this one. I still mixed up the "lay/laid" one. I don't think I'll ever get that one down.

Son of G cracks me up.

9/10. Second-guessed myself on one and got it wrong.

9/10 on the grammar quiz. Apparently, I am adverbially challenged, some likely say. I feel bad about it.

8/10 on the grammar test. I nailed the it's vs its question thanks to 'Mudge.
Thanks to 'Mudge.

Harry Potter was actually Canadian? who knew.

Shocking news I got 6/10 on the grammar quiz. I always bet the me/I ones wrong as I was apparently raised to incorrectly say I all the time (is that one of the British excuses I can claim - dr?)

Also, I feel pathetic, lonely, and postureful.

8 on the grammar. Sheesh. Well, it's a good think I only work for the gummint.

I don't play golf either. I am terrible at golf. But, for some reason, put me on a horse and send me galloping down the field with a mallet the size of a club, and I can send the ball (and sometimes the horse) exactly where I want it to go.

That said, like Rock Creek, the playing field has a number of hazards, especially if you walk around after the game in bare feet.

SCC: thing. Can't type or spell either.

9/10 on the killer quiz

I'm a Potter-phile as well, just not a race-out-and-get-a-copy one. I haven't read any spoilers and hope not to. My predictions on the death toll are Harry and Snape.

Welcome back Sara.

10/10 on the anaimals

5/10 on the grammar

its a shame we(me and the other) coulda been a contender.

I guess us will go outside

Ever wonder what kind of crowds Uriah Heep plays to these days? Answer - fish

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070720/od_uk_nm/oukoe_uk_fish;_ylt=AjRtHSnAnpa1K9vPwkh9PYrMWM0F

Apparently I don't watch Animal Planet enough...6/10.
Amazingly, I got 9/10 on the grammar quiz. I know I mangle some of my posts like nobody's business, so I don't know how I managed that.

Raysmom - oh, thanks for your Kelly's chat note. I'm going to a party tonight....I am going to use that one, hahahah...looking for his head. That was funny! I did see a bumper sticker at work today that made me laugh--

January 20, 2009
The End of an Error

Hi Sara! I think I was just starting to lurk when you posted your wedding pics.

And dr, I meant to say congratulations on your son's wedding. Nice pictures.

Is postureful even a word?

I think Red Head (ron?)buys it, he looks disposable. Red heads are like black guys in Startrek, don't get too attached to them. Snape turns out he's a good guy but dies helping Pothead against the VP (Voldemort Person). Any of the old Phoenix guys alive should thread carefully too.

8/10 on grammar. Things ain't any better in the private sector apparently.

re: funny WaPo headlines, this one made me smile:

U.S.-Canada Gulf Widening
Can Canada Do Anything to Stop It?

10/10 on the killer quiz. I'd have committed hari-kiri had I gotten any less.

8/10 for the grammar; I shoulda been a contender, irregardless.

Harpy eagles are cool eagles, they're virtual griffins, they have a plume on their head, and their talons are as long as grizzly bear claws.

They're definitely a terrifying sight for any monkey or snake.

http://www.enchantedlearning.com/subjects/birds/printouts/Harpyeagle.shtml

For a pic...
http://www.indyzoo.com/uploadedImages/Harpy%20eagle.jpg

I CAN FINALLY BOODLE!!! and even sara is here! wow! hey sara! ok - well i've saved up some boodling so bare with me...

ex cap - i saw that ferret special on PBS - i thought it was kinda funny - those ppl are sooo insanely obsessed! but i do love ferrets - i just hate the way they smell and they are a LOT of work...

9/10 on the killer quiz - ok, i REALLY got a 8/10 but i second guessed myself on one that i really knew so i'm giving myself the benefit of the doubt so there! :p

8/10 on the grammer - i is always really gooder at grammer.

bph last nite - what joy! what fun! what great fart jokes! if i use a telescope in miannus can i see uranus? and yes, i hugged everyone - even the waitress who has GREAT eyelashes and she got the kitchen to make me a special shrimp/pasta dish! YUMMMMMMM

i play golf too dmd! stop having so much in common with me! i work in a very male dominated field so i have to learn to play the boys games if i wanna be in on the loop - cuz you know that's where most of the impromptu meetings happen donchaknow... i mostly play tournies tho so it's usually best ball - and since i'm usually the only female on the team and i can tee from the girls tee - well, every once in a while my ball is best ball. i buy those "specialty" balls at the golf store - the ones painted to look like bright yellow tennis balls or cue balls - i've never lost a ball or confused my ball for someone else since! only probem is i need a shorter driver - i have female clubs but i bought pre-owned and since i'm so short - i shoulda gone custom... ah well...

i'm getting my potter book first thing sat morning at costco - at least i hope to... they usually have palattes of books on the first day.

10/10 on the grammar quiz, 15/15 on spelling. I am marvelous, really. Haven't tried the killer quiz yet.

and dr - i loved the wedding pics! you guys look like my kinda ppl! (pst - kerric is a cutie pie!!! meow!!)

I'd put smart money on Snape, but I suspect he will simply save Harry's life again just to tick him off.

Ron's not the only redhead out there.

Let's not forget Ginny and the trouble twins, Mr & Mrs Weasley, and that annoying not-so-red sheep Percival.

How many people want to see Umbridge go down?

Hi Mo and thanks to your reasoning I can change my results on the quiz, due to second quessing I am now upping my numbers to 9/10 and 8/10.

Next time I am in DC we will golf mo, I think we can handle the course Joel mentioned, and by the way I am not SPAM :-)

Hey, mo! Good to see you!

Way to go with the golfing. Golfing takes skills I don't have. I also don't plan to acquire them. Jeremy and I were at Sports Authority last night buying new racquetball glasses (we've been using chemistry lab glasses--we're cool) and he said, "When I'm a dentist I'm going to get some custom golf clubs because mine are too light and they tend to torque when I drive. We can get you some, too." I said, "Let's not waste that money on me. Just buy yourself some nicer custom ones and I'll buy a pair of jeans."

9/10 on the killers. The eagle got me. Cool pic of the eagle, Wilbrod.

8/10 on grammar. Lay/lie and is/were got me.

I'd love it if Umbridge would bite it. Awful woman.

7/10 on the killers and 8/10 on the grammar. The latter hurts my feelings.

My copy of HP comes tomorrow from Amazon, but I'll be tied up all day with a family wedding, so I don't get to read till Sunday. Bummer. At least I get this one before the younger child. She and I have read all the books together.

10/10 on the killer quiz. I'm so good, I think I will give myself an early out.

Friends in for dinner tonight, day trip to the mountains tomorrow. Have a good weekend, everybody. I'll catch you Sunday, probably.

Tim,

Your 11:34 post this morning was absolutely brilliant, but the last item needs a plural noun in there somewhere.

10/10 - grammar

5/10 - beasties

*You may be dinner!*

The closest I ever get to nature is my screened porch.

Summary of the death scene I'd like to see--

Umbridge marches up to Voldy, assuming he's a ministry peon, and insists he write 1000 lines "I shall not do Avada Kavadera inside the ministry."

He does-- on Umbridge's flesh.

dmd! i don't know how that happened! i never ever ever check my spam box and one day i just happened to and i was like "WAIT! OMG! DMD IS NOT SPAM!" - i quickly de-spamed you the minute i realized it! mea culpa! we m's hafta stay together!!!
(sorry mudge for the "like")
and hey - "35 and under"? what's THAT about?? what's wrong with just 35???

dmd! i don't know how that happened! i never ever ever check my spam box and one day i just happened to and i was like "WAIT! OMG! DMD IS NOT SPAM!" - i quickly de-spamed you the minute i realized it! mea culpa! we m's hafta stay together!!!
(sorry mudge for the "like")

Chemistry safety glasses, the nerd noose tightens!

HP ordered to be picked up this evening at the luddite independent bookstore in the area: VERTIGO books.

I don't read them, I listen to them on tape, as does most in the family. But we do own the books. At the swim meet tomorrow, during the copious down times between event we have assigned a few monitor-parents to WACK the kids who keep spilling beans about content. Two years ago at this time, I had to pull a certain boy out (NOT CeePeeBoy, really) who kept telling because he simply could not help it! He sat next to me; I am very scary in red-head/freckle burka-garb AND knitting needles. He is just now beginning to trust me again. Fierce, I must seem. Now he has a reason to go to therapy ten years hence. We do what we can.

Hey, SD, did you say that redheads tend to buy it? Watch out, as we have great powers...etc.

I am laughing mo - Hugs.

35 and under the table... yeah, just 35 is fine ;).

surfacing briefly from lurkerdom to ask a quick question - Reagan, Washington or Thatcher

http://www.economist.com/blogs/democracyinamerica/2007/07/bald_eagles.cfm

(hope the link works)

I'm sure JK has already gotten a howler from you, CP, promising magic consequences if she dares kill off any redheads.

Burqas with red hair? LOL. I hope it was in a tasteful color that wasn't black.

oops

Wilbrod, I see I am unclear. We fair ones, at least this one, cover up poolside. Sometimes I drape a white sheet around me, in addition to hat and glasses....so sun protection, burka or burqua style.

Thatcher.

Oh, white burqa--much more flattering than black ;).

I simply avoid being poolside too much for the same reaason-- the water really does reflect the sun so it seems I sunburn twice as fast.

5 p.m. on a Friday...running like mad for the bus.

Have a good weekend, Boodle persons!

The Chris Dodd caricature makes him look like John Ehrlichman (minus the hair, of course) and the bald Reagan reminds me of someone else. Calvin Trillin, perhaps? Not sure.

I'll go with Thatcher, too.

I had to go back and find the spelling quiz after Yoki mentioned it. 15/15.

Dolores Umbridge must die while realizing how deeply wrong she is about everything. She cannot live with this knowledge, as she is incapable of personal growth -- either she dies, or the knowledge of her perfidy dies.

I maintain that an army of Hermiones will return from various moments in her future, all using the time-turner to reach the same moment. The army of brilliant Hermiones will weave a web of spells that will ensnare the Big V and incapacitate the Deatheaters. Hermione, being not a complete nitwit like the rest of the wizarding world, will implement her knowledge of both magic and physics to dispatch Big V to the Sun's interior (sure, he can't be killed -- who said anything about killing him? Sure, magic won't work on him, due to his protective spells -- but it can work on a piece of furntiture, to which he can be tied). Voldemort, consigned to ever-lasting immortal torment, until the Sun goes Red Giant, is nevertheless vanquished, effectively permanently. The Hermione army, triumphant, will then set the stage for Hermione, as she returns to her own respective moments throughout her future history, to take over the world and establish a benevolent (initially benevolent) utopian dictatorship. It is at this point that Harry finally realizes what must be his REAL life's quest -- to free Voldemort from the Sun and prevent Hermione's well-meaning tyrrany. Hermione, understanding that Harry will not be so enlightened as she, traps him inside a modified Pensieve (how come Hermione is the only one who seems to realize that there have been no new spells originated in centuries? I dunno -- must be her Muggle upbringing). Harry goes on to fight heroically against Hermione, at last defeating her in a showdown on Mercury as the awful Sun slowly rises and Voldemort draws her attention. Voldemort and Harry agree to disagree on the proper level of strnegth in a unitary executive, initiating a truly fair and representative Democracy that serves Muggle and Wizard alike, all for the benefit of the whole planet's survival. But sadly, it's all in Harry's head, as he will realize just before he dies. Hermione constructs multiple magical simulacra (golems) in the shape of various men she has fancied and maintains them as a tireless harem. At last, she dies, happy, evil, sexually satisfied by her last night with "Viktor Krum", and with fabulous teeth (remember, her parents were dentists, before she had them "re-educated").

At this point, the world is destroyed, as the Sun explodes. Voldemort is freed, but mindless and insane from his decades of infinite physical torment (he can't be killed, but he was buried in the Sun -- that's gotta hurt), drifting out into space, madly but silently chanting nonsense spells (no air, you see), slowly cooling, the radioactivity of his immortal flesh fading. At last, untold eons in the future, all that is left is an utterly mad Voldemort and a universe composed of photons, leptons, and quantum black holes. Oh, and Voldemort's remaining horcruxes. If only he were still functional, he could destroy them and finish his endless torment. But he can't.

Oh, the horror. The horror.

Man, it's only 3 here. I have two hours left.

Definitely Thatcher.

Not to mess up a Happy Friday on the blog, but I may have missed any discussion of the broad new expansion of executive privilege that the evil emperor asserted yesterday. If anyone could direct me to where a reasoned discussion of this is on the blog, I would be interested in reading it. The comments after today's WAPost article are, to me, a little too vitriolic.

Except that Hermoine doesn't have the self-confidence and the personal vendetta against Umbridge, I'd back your doomsday scenario, SciTim over more sappy deaths.

Personally I think she'd settle for jinxing Umbridge's wand so it never obeyed orders, sorta like how Ron's broken wand used to work.

No need to time-turn herself into an army of clones for revenge. Wouldn't that give her a transtemporal headache, anyway?

>I heard that JK Rowlings just stops writing on the last page after Hermione, Ron, and Harry sha