droll duck

Late architect decries BP's “pulchritudinous challenged” domes

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Tue, 04 May 2010 14:50:00 +0000

bg burke (http://www.drollduck.blogspot.com)
04 May 2010

FLORIDA—Late legendary architect Philip Johnson turned over in his grave in New Canaan, Connecticut today as he decried the ugliness of the 73-ton containment “domes” being placed 5,000 feet down in the Gulf of Mexico by BP in hopes of capturing the oil escaping from its sunken rig.

In speaking out against what he termed the “pulchritudinous challenged” domes, Johnson said it would cost no more to design and lower a esthetically pleasing modern edifice than that which BP has in hand.

When asked for specific design suggestions, Mr. Johnson allowed: “Good grief, man, a facade of rippled concrete and the addition of just a few large portals would go a long way in establishing architectural standards for these types of erections in the future.”

In other news: Citing a report from measurement firm NetApplication, the BBC reports that Microsoft's Internet Explorer (IE) web browser, now accounts for less than 60% of the market, down from 95% at its peak in 2003, due to concerns over security, or so say the experts. What this means for the future of actors appearing in the “Windows was my idea” ad blitz is uncertain. Perhaps they can switch over to hawking IE, a new version of which, we’ve been warned, is imminent.

hats

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 13:51:00 +0000

Birth of the Venus of Willendorf

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 13:23:00 +0000

Choices

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 13:21:00 +0000

I could not have known
In Florida, in the summer
With the soft humidity
That you would leave
My good friend.

We talked for hours
You and I
About choices
Whether to die as you live
Without apology.

In the end
You did it well
You left behind a memory
And a safe harbor for animals.

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 00:19:00 +0000

In my youth I threw caution to the wind, but like a boomerang,
caution rebounded to bite me in the ass.

bg burke, 2009

Uncomplicated sex

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 17:01:00 +0000

The craigslist ad went: "mature female looking for uncomplicated sex with mature male." Seemed a simple, honest ad. Boy, oh boyo, did I have that wrong. One hundred (I stopped counting) replies from, you guessed it, or maybe not, from would-be's, wanna be's my sex partner from 26 years old to 50.

Gee, it turned out I didn't need that $50 million grant to research what smell or look attracts. All I needed was, not a bailout, but a vagina.

Apparently, and I feel so bad about this, I hurt one respondent's feelings when I turned him down; he "flagged" me on the list. I am left to wonder if he was the respondent with the poor little "Weenie."

My impronto ad leads me to but two conclusions: 1) write a book; and 2) the economists have it all wrong.

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 00:57:00 +0000

"The problem with the gene pool is that there is no lifeguard."

Attributed to Steven Wright
the darwin awards - Next Evolution

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 13:48:00 +0000

"Some women give birth to babies; I give birth to words which
don't turn around and bite you in the ass no matter how old they get."

bg burke, 2008

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 18:44:00 +0000

"You mustn't mind that a poet is a drunk, rather that drunks are not always poets."

Oscar Wilde

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 18:56:00 +0000

"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it."

Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

What are their pizza policies?

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 13:52:00 +0000

Excerpt from Truman Taylor's August 12, 2008 column in the Providence Journal.

"Here, at last, may be a way for American voters to cut through all the political rhetoric and make an intelligent decision about whom to vote for. While we may not be able to fathom the depths of the gasoline crisis or have any inkling how we can get out of Iraq, we Americans can say, for sure, which man we most identify with when one eats pizza laced with pepperoni and the other asks for one only with vegetables.

When it comes to running the country, whom do you trust? The vegetable or the pepperoni guy?"

Click the "read more" button for the whole shebang. A note of thanks to Truman for permission to reprint.

Truman Taylor: What are their pizza policies?

01:00 AM EDT on Tuesday, August 12, 2008

You probably think that because Barack Obama’s favorite food is arugula, the Democrats, to try to “go green” at their national convention, are going to stick to their ban of fried foods at the Denver event. Wrong!

House Majority Whip Jim Clyburn, a big wheel in the Democratic Party, is from South Carolina, where fried foods are haute cuisine. When he heard that convention food was going to be weird and healthy, he said he wanted fried food, and plenty of it, put back on the menu. And so, the Democratic National Committee did.

It’s still not clear who at the DNC came up with the idea that every meal served at the convention should be nutritious — no fried chicken, no fried catfish, no fried anything. Whoever it was must have decided that any Democratic candidate for president doesn’t have much chance of winning the South anyway, and so it wouldn’t make any difference if they banned the South’s favorite foods.

Although fried foods are back in, plastic plates and bottled water are still out, and the DNC has appointed a “greening director” for the convention. This is another bid to capture the politically correct environmental position.

Obama, however, is still trying to disassociate himself from arugula. He’s embracing pizza. He told a reporter that when he and his wife, Michelle, dine out in Chicago, it’s often at a little pizza joint in a mini-mall near their home.

But the other week, he walked into a pizzeria in Oregon and ordered a slice of vegetarian pizza. A compromise, no doubt, between the macho Everyman image he’s trying to convey to the voters, and the “nutrition is the new patriotism” position of the DNC.

When John McCain, who, of course, thinks that the macho position in the presidential race is his, heard that Obama was a vegetable-pizza man, he made a quick stop at a pizza parlor and ordered a slice with pepperoni.

Here, at last, may be a way for American voters to cut through all the political rhetoric and make an intelligent decision about whom to vote for. While we may not be able to fathom the depths of the gasoline crisis or have any inkling how we can get out of Iraq, we Americans can say, for sure, which man we most identify with when one eats pizza laced with pepperoni and the other asks for one only with vegetables.

When it comes to running the country, whom do you trust? The vegetable or the pepperoni guy?

Be warned though, if pizza consumption becomes the deciding factor for you in this election, things could get complicated. You may have to write in Hillary Clinton on your ballot next November. The New York Times reported that in just one month during the primary campaign, her campaign ran up an $11,000 pizza bill.

What chance do guys who buy pizza by the slice have against Hillary, who can spend $350 a day on pizza every day for a month?

If the pizza voters turn out in force and team up with all the disgruntled women voters who still say they’re going to write in Hillary, who knows how this election will end?

— Truman Taylor

( TrumanBTaylor@aol.com)

the Night

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 17:17:00 +0000

The Night and I have reached an agreement whereby
he cloaks me in anonymity
And I no longer break his silence
With my rants and rails
Against the darkness.

His, the advantage, those childhood years
The creeping footsteps
The monster nears
Goblins and witches and demons
Oh, my.

I thought we had an agreement
Night and I
But Night is like Loki, the trickster
Who waits in silence to catch
you unaware.

Leave it to Norman [Mailer]!

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 18:04:00 +0000

Norman Mailer, in an unprecedented move by a dead author, has just released his semi-autobiographical, creative non-fiction entitled: "I Just Can't Let It Rest." It hit's the book shelves on Thursday.

Next week: Your reviewer upchucks over Updikes "Due Consideration: Essays and Criticism."

"O" Names taken, Iranians riot! by bg burke

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 18:56:00 +0000

Tehran-Mayhem erupted today in this capital city; cars were overturned and set afire; stores ransacked as Iranians rioted over the unpronouncability of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's name.

"It's not fair," as one looter related to our reporter (raincoat by Yves Saint Laurent), "It's just not fair. USA has Obama; the Talibad, Osama. All the good "0" names are taken. When will it be our turn? See this 40" HDTV, Sony flat-screen I've on my Segway. No electricity, no water, no rice. Think you so rich?" We start now with 'Pzama' or 'Qsama.' You Americans, I hawk up gross mucus on you."

Women are not supposed to. . .

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 18 May 2008 20:14:00 +0000

Women are not supposed to
snore,
burp,
sweat or
pass gas.

Therefore, we must bitch or we will blow up.

Submitted by Beverly Rutelonis, source unknown

Florida - Everglades, swamps and Truck Nutz?

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 18 May 2008 18:55:00 +0000

Florida - Everglades, swamps and Truck Nutz?

[bg's note: The "Truck Nutz" bill failed to pass the 2008 Florida state legislative session, as did SB 386/HB 437 (Require public bathrooms to meet cleanliness standard and provide toilet paper)and HB 1483 (Require teachers to present critical analysis of evolution theory - Rep. Rhonda Storm's Christian Right crusade). But this being Florida, after all, the bills and their sponsors will be back again next year.]

We native peoples, hereinafter and forever, designated: homo sapien Floridius , know wherein the absurbity lies of setting free exotic, invasive species in the environment. Before you know it, they've glad-handed (paid) their way to the state legislature and into the history books as did state republican senator Cary Baker, who has attached his amendment banning the 'hanging from auto bumpers the plastic replicas of testicles' to a transportation bill (SB 1992) that would make those caught in the act of hanging "reproductive glands" from the bumpers of cars and trucks subject to a noncrimimal moving violation. (Jennifer Liberto, St. Petersburg Times, 04.18.08).

Collective wisdom believes that Gore lost the election because of rulings by conservative (right wing) judges on the Supreme Court. Oh, oh! So not so. The chad mishap? You're not even close. Homo sapien Floridius, this one anyway, thinks of the elections as an amusing sport: something to amuse; relieve the tedium as we swat at the mosquitos on the porch in the heat of summer.

Questions of the day: (1) If a woman makes a plastic replica of her breast and chooses to hang it from the bumper of her car, will Rep. Carey (FL) attach an amendment denouncing her right to do so? (2) Whether Maureen Dowd is entitled to the ridiculous amount of money she makes; and (3) should biologists amend their definition of homo sapien Floridius to homo sapien Floridius ridiculous.

bg burke

Woman keeps sex-ed books

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 18 May 2008 18:34:00 +0000

Woman keeps sex-ed books

By Daniel Hartill , Staff Writer (SunJournal.com)
Tuesday, September 18, 2007

LEWISTON[ME] - A Lewiston woman wants to keep local children from seeing an acclaimed sex education book, "It's Perfectly Normal." So she checked out copies from the Lewiston and Auburn public libraries.

And she won't give them back.

"Since I have been sufficiently horrified of the illustrations and the sexually graphic, amoral abnormal contents, I will not be returning the books," JoAn Karkos wrote the local libraries last month.

A check for $20.95 accompanied each letter to cover the cost of the book.

"This has never happened before," said Rick Speer, director of the Lewiston Public Library. "It is clearly theft."

He may even ask police for help.

Though he sent back the check, along with a form Karkos could use to request the book's removal from library shelves, he may take action in court if she doesn't return what she borrowed.

"That's really what we want," Speer said. "We want the book back."

It seems unlikely.

In her second letter to Speer, Karkos cited a war on morality and called the volume "pornographic."

"The truth is the contents of the book in question leads to a lot of misery, pain, lack of freedom, and often death," Karkos wrote.

Written by Robie H. Harris and illustrated by Michael Emberley, the book was published in 1993. Subtitled "Changing Bodies, Growing Up, Sex & Sexual Health," the book features frank but cartoon-like illustrations of naked people in chapters on topics such as abstinence, masturbation and sexually transmitted diseases.

According to its publisher, Massachusetts-based Candlewick Press, it has been sold in 25 countries and translated into 21 languages.

Planned Parenthood has championed the book, including an interview with the author on its Web site. But the book has been harshly criticized by conservative groups such as Concerned Women for America and the anti-abortion American Life League.

In 2005, the book topped the American Library Association's list of most challenged books. The list also included books by J.D. Salinger, Toni Morrison and Judy Blume.

In 23 years as a librarian, Speer said he has faced only two challenges.

None was like this.

Rosemary Waltos, the director of the Auburn Public Library, called Karkos' decision not to return the book "an inappropriate act."

And it will likely be fruitless, Waltos said.

"If somebody wants a copy, they can get one," she said. At least three dozen Maine libraries have copies available for interlibrary loan, she said.

In the past six years - as far back as the Lewiston library keeps its records - the book has been checked out only 16 times. It was renewed 15 times.

Both libraries have ordered replacements for the books Karkos took. In fact, since the Sun Journal published a letter to the editor from Karkos condemning the book, requests have risen, so Speer ordered two more copies.

If people have an objection, they are welcome to talk to him. They can also submit an official request for removal of the book from the library.

"We have a policy of covering all the sides of controversial issues," he said.

A Place to Dream by Martha Christopher

noreply@blogger.com (bg burke) — Sun, 18 May 2008 18:12:00 +0000

Martha, “Marty,” Christopher is an artist of an age, a Renaissance woman and a dear, dear friend. She is, or was for twenty-five years or so, a professional singer and musician, entertaining in clubs from Detroit, Michigan to Miami, Florida.
Now retired, she is pursuing her true passion, art. Over a period of a week or two, she dreamed this story and together she and I put it together as a small book (the limited remaining number of which are for sale through this website).

Marty now resides on the Gulf Coast of Florida, hanging out in the jungles around her house; drawing; painting; and mostly enjoying life with her wolf, Tango; cats: Hummer and patchouli ; and husband, David. She says she just might write another poem someday.

Her drawings are wonderful, descriptive, and imaginative. I hope to have jpegs up on the site soon for visitors to enjoy.

A Place to Dream

Part I

I write this poem while in my bed
‘Tis where I go to lose my head
A place I know is always warm
Every night I am reborn.

I cuddle in my flannel sheets
And say a prayer before I sleep
Hold my feather pillow tight
Float off again into the night.

I rise and fly to distant stars
And visit places so bizarre
Old gray mansions, dark and vast
Oh, please dear halls, show me your past.

Tapestries hang to the floor
The balcony has seven doors -
Every one is open wide
In every room someone died.

Grandfather clock is striking five
Now the seven are alive
They gently take me by the hand
To show me through the house so grand.

Every room has tall bookcases
Old dark portraits of dead faces
Bedposts spiraling toward the sky
White laced bedding piled high.

Blood red carpets run down the halls
Drapes hung themselves, there are no walls
Wooden staircases near ten feet wide
They floated, too, and so did I.

The chandelier stretched so wide
I floated down and sat inside
The crystals dazzled and they gleamed
As o’er the sides I did lean.

Looking down to the ballroom floor
A waltz was playing, ‘Mi Amore’
Dancers whirled around the room
Not knowing they were dead and doomed.

But on their faces wore a smile
Enjoying happiness for a while
A proper gent had caught my eye
Oh, handsome one, why did you die?

May I come down and dance with you
Instead of one, you’ll waltz with two
I floated down to his embrace
Looked into his eyes; his beautiful face.

I held him tight ‘tween he and she
And all the time he did not see
My prince and I, we danced ‘til three
But now, my love, it’s time to leave.

How can the living love the dead
I floated up through dust and webs
I chose a room atop the stairs
And settled in a bed of tears.

I listened to the gaiety, the music and the laughter
Maybe he’s the prince that lived, ‘happily ever after’
Shadows moved around the room
The darkness foul and full of gloom.

I pulled the covers round my face
Yes, in the morn I’ll leave this place
It’s quiet now, the music ceased
In moments I was on my feet.

Slowly walking to the door, I listened
The chandelier no longer glistened
My departure seemed to end the ball
Saddened souls now in the hall.

Each one retiring in their gloom
Floating swiftly to their rooms
Then in the stilling of the night
Up the staircase came a light.

Footsteps heavy, steadily creep
I could not waken from my sleep
I turned back and ran to my bed
And pulled the covers o’er my head.

The footsteps coming closer now
The door slammed shut, I know not how
Upon the bed then someone sat
And gently pulled the covers back.

I lay so still I could not move
A sweet voice whispered, ‘I love you’
My precious darling, Martha Lee
T’was you and I who danced ‘til three.

But baby I saw only you
Because, my love, I 'm alive too.
I looked into the face I crave
The prince I see, my darling Dave.

Part II

They say that David inherited
That old mysterious mansion
Because of fear no one went near
As David was Dracula's grandson.

The blackened mansion possessed the strangest powers
As gargoyles leaped from tower to tower
On moonlit nights you can watch with fright
As bats by thousands take to flight.

Thorny hedges and gates surrounded the place
For a warning to all who pass by
'Oh, t’was a frightening sight that old mansion at night
As it loomed up in the moonlit sky.

No one would believe that his mother Jo' Lee
Was a mortal on her wedding night
With just time to conceive her husband Du' Pree
Bared his fangs to take his first bite.

But none too soon this honeymoon
Turned out to be quite a thriller
For her husband was slain
By a priest who was named the infamous Vampire Killer.

Well, the news did race throughout the place
All within the mansion did mourn
And within a year the souls drew near
To help Jo' Lee's baby be born.

'Twas a handsome young lad who grew terribly sad
For his mother had passed at his birth.
He grew up to find he was one of a kind
The last vampire to walk on the earth.

David would climb to the towers and stand there for hours
Wishing sometimes he were dead
He'd get lost in his thoughts and want to jump off
For he knew he could never be wed.

As storms would approach, in the courtyard he'd grope
Through the rain and the splashing mud
He would cry out in vane, in hideous pain
And howl, "I HAVE NO THIRST FOR BLOOD."

Back inside the estate, back and forth he would pace
Then he'd let out a bellowing call
"Come all ye dead souls, come young, come old
We are throwing the best ball of all."

Put on your finery, go down to the winery
Help yourselves to the best wine of all
David greeted his guests, always dressed in his best
And the band took the stage on call.

Before it all ended, Martha Lee descended
To dance in his arms until three.
The love in their souls would never grow old
And would dance on throughout eternity.

They embraced through the night by soft candlelight
Then David revealed his last name
She pulled from his breast, our love can't be blessed
With that horrible blood in your veins.

When morning had come, out the door she did run
Through the gates, out into the street
This curse I'll defeat when I meet with the priest
And be back before morning sun.

When she went to the altar she did not falter
To cry out in anger her plea
I must speak to the one who bravely undone
And killed the vampire Du' Pree.

Then a priest came near, I will speak with you dear
For your heart should not be so smitten
For when I killed Count Du' Pree it set David free
For his mother Jo' Lee was not bitten.

Oh, come with me please with the news that will ease
The sadness that drives him insane
For he was not to blame for his blasphemous name
Will you marry us to start over again?

On their wedding day, they danced and they played
And ran through the mansion with glee
All was going so well, they had broken the spell
And they sat on the terrace for tea.

Then the balcony did sway, the old timbers gave way
And together they fell to their deaths.
Before David died he crawled to his bride
And with their sweet lips they did press.

Twas one moment of bliss with that first and last kiss
And all who looked on sadly cried.

Part III

In a casket of heather they were buried together
And lowered ‘neath the ballroom floor
But each night they would rise - the groom and his bride
And dance to the waltz, ‘Mi Amore.’

Like the rest of the souls, they will never grow old
And dance through eternity
The balls would go on with merriment and song
They they’d return to their crypts at three.

Now as sad as it seems, it was only my dream
My dear readers, come on, after all
You know it sounds corny, when I wake in the morning
I’ll probably never recall.

© 2006 by Martha Christopher

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction
in whole or in parts or in any form.

Book design by BG Burke and Martha Christopher