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Archive for the ‘elephants’ category
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October 15, 2010Continuing Legal Education – First Koala
September 30, 2010Yesterday, I had to take a class in law. I am a lawyer and New York State requires all lawyers to take a certain number of hours of law classes every couple of years.
Although most lawyers complain about them, the requirements are probably a good thing, at least in principle. Laws change; people forget; you can’t take everything in law school.
Unfortunately, the classes actually pertain to, you know, law. Which means that they can be–well, not to mitigate it, put too fine a point on it, split hairs, obfuscate the truth… a bit boring.
Although the speakers do try, their topics are…dry.
And usually the lectures are taped, so there’s not even the frisson (okay, let’s not go wild here) the mild distraction (the possibility of tics, throat-clearing, unfamiliar windows) of a live performance.
Yesterday’s lecturer was particularly lawyerly.
Yesterday's Lecturer
The great thing about watching a videotaped lecture is that one is free to doodle while listening without actually being rude.
The other good thing is that you can eat a sandwich. Mine was tuna fish. I also had a little pasta salad.
Black & White Tuna Sandwich (and a bit of rigatoni)
But how long can you stretch out a tuna fish sandwich? Or a little pasta? The guy in front of me had a reddish ear. (You’d see it if this were in color.)
Black & White Recreation of Reddish Ear
(This is a re-creation–I actually erased that drawing in case he turned around.)
It was a lecture on business torts–the types of actionable offenses people commit in advertising, for example. Be very careful about disparagement of competitors.
Elephants jump to hand. But everyone tells me that there’s no future in elephants–that that territory has been completely explored by Babar. You’ve got to spread out, they tell me.
Ears… ears… ears… koalas!
First Koala
Okay, the first one is just recognizable, but the second—
It really would be better in color--
One thing I never before realized is that koalas look remarkably like robots. Also, like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. Especially if they are not done in color (which would show the variation in their fur.)
This was getting really discouraging and the lecturer had only just started on the Lanham Act.
Note Presence of Dog!
I’m sorry, I can’t help it. At least there’s a little dog.
Elephant a la Astaire
Okay, so there’s not even the little dog this time. But he’s tapdancing! When does Babar ever tapdance?
(What was that about disparagement?)
Yard Work – Colbert In Congress – Draft poem
September 27, 2010
Yard Work is Hard Work
Stephen Colbert, amazingly, made an appearance before the House Judiciary Committee Subcomittee on Immigration last Friday, testifying on issues related to illegal migrant farmworkers in the U.S. Colbert’s alleged expertise on the issue arose from one day spent with migrant laborers in which he learned that farm work is “hard.”
Colbert’s testimony is fascinating on many levels; a few that especially struck me: (i) his chutzpah in appearing at all (to highlight the issue with his celebrated bump); (ii) his chutzpah in maintaining the Colbert “persona” (the narcissistic, jingoistiic, know-it-all, conservative talk-show host) throughout the testimony, even when it did not seem much appreciated by his audience; and (iii) his chutzpah in making an oddly sincere and thoughtful contribution to the debate. It’s all pretty crazy; the aftermath too.
In the meantime, I had an independent, and far more pampered, experience of agricultural “work” this weekend. (I hesitate to make the comparison to either Colbert or migrant farm workers–my experience was as much in the nature of exercise as work and completely voluntary.) But, it gave rise to a draft poem. (Note that the competitiveness at stake is not with Stephen Colbert.)
Raker’s Progress
Yard work is hard work;
raking makes for aching
even for the frequent
grass-comber, but for the grandiloquent,
hell-bent on proving that she
can too do it, that she can more
than do it, certainly
as well as he,
it makes for a sore
next day.
Why Jeter Wasn’t A Cheater
September 18, 2010
it?
Why Derek Jeter Wasn’t Cheating When He Pretended To Be Hit By a Pitch.
1. It might have gotten his sleeve.
2. And did get him on first base.
3. If it had hit him, it would have really hurt.
4. They do it in soccer. (And they have a World Cup that really does involve the whole world.)
5. In fact, feigning/bluffing is a time-honored tactic in any game. (See e.g. poker.) (Forget soccer.)
6. He’s a Yankee and I’m from New York.
7. He’s Derek Jeter (and I’m from New York.)
On base
(PS – sorry these are a re-posting of last night’s drawings.)
Derek Jeter (A Biased View)
September 17, 2010It’s a game. He plays it very well. 
Very very well.
(If you like elephants, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon or http://www.backstrokebooks.com.)
Religious Outrage – Elephant Dung
September 10, 2010
We live in a country where you can use the Bible as toilet paper. You can even post a video of this use on youtube. (I hope not.)
It’s a country where you are allowed to draw horns on the President, a country where you do not generally have to memorize poems for fear that your scribbles will be discovered by the local police. (The downside of this is that no one is much interested in poetry.)
It’s also a country where silly self-promoters, like Terry Jones and several other copycat “ministers”, have a right to do silly self-promoting symbolic things.
Of course, the rules that allow for Jones are also the rules that allow for artists and writers, museums and collectors, many of whom are also self-promoters, some of whom are also foolish. (Some not.)
Remember Chris Ofili and the Virgin Mary painted with Elephant Dung, part of the Brooklyn Museum’s 1999 show Sensation, which exhibited works from the collection of Charles Saatchi. Ofili’s Virigin Mary caused such a….sensation that it inspired then Mayor Giuliani to start a lawsuit to evict the Museum, the Museum to countersue Giuliani, and all kinds of politicians, artists, religious groups and concerned citizens to speak out. The U.S. House of Representatives (typically!) passed a nonbinding resolution to end federal funding for the Museum, the City of New York actually stopped the Museum’s funding; a federal judge restored it.
I am not sure that people around the world, Muslims particularly, understand this aspect of our culture.
I’m not sure that many of us always understand it. Especially some of the ones doing silly symbolic things. (And why do so many have to center on 9/11? Ground Zero? Do these people even like New York?)
But what do you do? We live in a country (thankfully) where people do not have to swallow their poetry, but can post it on the internet. Even though no one is terribly interested in it. With or without elephant dung.
More tomorrow.
Rain Stops! (Friday With Elephants)
August 27, 2010
Rain Stops (On the Esplanade)!
Rain stops! Friday comes! Hope eternal! (With elephants!)
Have a great weekend, and, if you like elephants, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon.
Wet Day (With Elephant)!
August 22, 2010
For more wet elephants (in color!), check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson on Amazon.
“Swimming In Summer” – Villanelle For August
August 15, 2010
Swimming In Summer
I’ve posted this villanelle before, but it seems pretty appropriate for Sunday evening, mid-August.
Swimming in Summer
Our palms grew pale as paws in northern climes
as water soaked right through our outer skin.
In summers past, how brightly water shines,
its surface sparked by countless solar mimes,
an aurora only fragmented by limb.
Our palms grew pale as paws in northern climes
as we played hide and seek with sunken dimes,
diving beneath the waves of echoed din;
in summers past, how brightly water shines.
My mother sat at poolside with the Times’
Sunday magazine; I swam by her shin,
my palms as pale as paws in northern climes,
sculpting her ivory leg, the only signs
of life the hair strands barely there, so prim
in summers past. How brightly water shines
in that lost pool; and all that filled our minds
frozen now, the glimmer petrified within
palms, grown pale as paws in northern climes.
In summers past, how brightly water shines.
(All rights reserved, Karin Gustafson)
For more about villanelles, how to write them, and how they are like Magnolia Bakery’s banana pudding, check out this and this.
And for more poetry by Karin Gustafson, get ready for a book! Coming out soon! It is called Going on Somewhere – with poems by Karin Gustafson, illustrations by Diana Barco. I will be writing more about this soon. In the meantime, check out the poetry category of this blog for prior poetry posts.
Finally, if you are more interested in elephants than poetry, check out1 Mississippi, a counting book for children, their parents and their pachyderms.
My Own “Take This Job And Shove It” Moment
August 13, 2010
Should We Take The Guitar?
Thinking of Steven Slater brought me back to my own “Take This Job And Shove It” moment. It really didn’t have much to do with shoving a job (I was raised to be very very nice). It arose more in the context of seeking a job, and had to do with the Johnny Paycheck (the country music singer about whom I wrote yesterday).
This was back in my own country music days. They were also my law school days, but law school, as you may have heard, is not exactly scintillating, and my brilliant, beautiful, roommate, Cynthia, and I decided that writing country music would be a viable (and far more interesting) career alternative.
The problem with the music world is that it’s difficult to just decide to have a career in it. Especially if you are not all that talented. You need an “in”, a break, some significant help from the stars, both celestial and human; at least a hook.
Our hook came (we thought) in the form of the “Paycheck Song”, a song we wrote while interviewing for summer jobs.
It would be just perfect (we thought) for Johnny Paycheck, his next hit after “Take This Job and Shove it”.
But how could we get it to him?
We had the young and blonde part going for us; but we were far from Nashville. (We were in school in New Haven, Connecticut.) Our efforts at groupydom were going to be significantly mitigated (to use a good law school word.)
Our chance came when Johnny Paycheck came to New York, to the Lone Star Cafe.
The show was on a weekday, but hey! this was important. We took the train down in our best (in my case, only) Texas boots. Cynthia’s had tassles. Our hair gleamed, our eyes glommed, the lashes thick with mascara. Our hopes were crazily high.
So many decisions to make: should we should mention that we were in law school? (No. It would make us stand out, but might seem weird.)
Should Cynthia bring her guitar? (No. Her playing wasn’t that great, my singing worse.)
We would just give him the print version of the Paycheck song, with big smiles, a little enthusiastic crooning.
Johnny Paycheck was a short grizzled man back then; his skin had the slightly leathery look of hard living in hard weather–sun, wind, cigarette smoke.
He gave a great performance, but even in a small place like the Lone Star, the back stage was, well — way back. I remember a glimpse of the dressing room; black cowboy hats blocked the wedge of open door, a make-up mirror was overbright behind them. The people at the door didn’t seem all that interested in our page of sheet music.
Did we hand it to someone? I think so, but we couldn’t really wait all night to see what happened to it. We had a train to catch, class in the morning.
ManicDDaily 
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