Weird Dream

Last night I dreamed I was watching a movie. It was a romantic comedy, the male lead was John Cusack, and the film was titled "Children of Kim Jung-Il."

Sometimes I worry about me.

John Cusack can be explained by my having recently watched "Grosse Pointe Blank."
I briefly considered watching "Children of Men" last night, but didn't. But that probably accounts for the first part of the title.
Where Kim Jung-Il fits in I do not know.

It seemed like a funny movie. The female lead (I don't know her name, but I think maybe it was the woman who stars in "Big Bang Theory.") was Kim Jung-Il's daughter, and she kept saying 'but that doesn't make me a bad person."

The plot details are fuzzy, but I seem to recall the usual devices; identities mistaken and dialogue partially overheard and subsequently taken out of context.

Any preference? Which one should go on the greeting card?

If you and she go together like snow
And February, and if your sweetheart
is the only, not just some skanky ho,
then proclaim your love loudly as a fart
after burritos- but not as stinky.
Roses, hugs, and romance are fine unless
she prefers something somewhat more kinky.
If flowers are not her thing then I guess
you could try a ring. But you have to try,
appease her unless she is a teaser
because if you don’t some other dumb guy
will take a stab at trying to please her.
So be sure to show your true affection
and don’t cheat or you’ll get an infection.

I prefer this one. The meter still stinks like bean burrito gas, but overall it seems a little better. But I can understand if you like the first one better-they are both pure gold. I expect a few generations from now, school children will be studying them, perhaps having to recite them aloud. ("Teacher, what's 'snow?'")

Also, I now understand why Shakespeare invented so many words. When trying to fit 10 syllables to a line and keep a set meter, it seems far easier to just make up a word than to find one that fits. It's sort of like what I do with crossword puzzles.

A Poem for Valentines

As it turns out, Shakespearean sonnets are awfully difficult. This one took over an hour. Last year's fake Chaucer report was a lot easier.

Warm embraces, thoughtful gifts from your heart
are the thing, if you and your lover go
together like bean burritos and farts,
or perhaps like February with snow.
If you pair up together like stink with
its shit, if your true love is forever,
eternal, give them a hug and a kiss
or-if you’re weird- just use whips and leather.
Be good to each other, forgive small spats,
be faithful, be true, show your affection
and gladness, just remember, dummies, that
unfaithfulness can lead to infection.
Valentine’s Day is for lovers and so
go buy gifts, and spend all your hard-earned dough.

Bookmarks and Other Insignificant Items

In my conservative estimation, I obtain a dozen bookmarks per year. The number might be much higher. I pick up free bookmarks at counters, clerks tuck them in with my purchases when I buy books, movies, or music, and I sometimes receive nice bookmarks as gifts.

So where do they all go? At a dozen per year, that's 240 bookmarks since I reached adulthood. Why do I end up using napkins, pens, coasters, envelopes, receipts, and everything else?

I guess a fair number get left in the books. There are probably 50 hidden in books on my shelves right now, and some have probably disappeared in the library bookdrop.

There does seem to be one definite rule: the nicer the bookmark the more quickly I lose it. Give me a sturdy plastic bookmark engraved with a neat character or phrase and it will vanish in an instant. On the other hand, the stub from Jewish Hospital's parking garage has lasted me through at least five books now.

This same rule appears to apply in other instances. Nice metal divot fixers escape before they even reach the first tee, but the cheap plastic ones accumulate as if they are breeding in my golf bag. Lovely engraved pens are misplaced forever while cheap Bics with fading ink hang around for all eternity.