How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags,
What is't you do?
Macbeth, Act IV Scene I
What is't you do?
Macbeth, Act IV Scene I
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Poope-Noddie
" . . . the Poope-noddie's paramour . . . the Swil-bole's swinetroffe . . . "John Deacon, 1616
Great American Smokeout 2009
Coming soon to an ashtray near you!
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sorry, Byron, I couldn't help myself...
Gnash thy fangs! Yell loudly for the prey!
The fiercest shall bear the cheese-fest prize away!
The fiercest shall bear the cheese-fest prize away!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
My Dog Dash
I have a dog of Blenheim birth,
With fine long ears and full of mirth;
And sometimes, running o'er the plain,
He tumbles on his nose:
But quickly jumping up again,
Like lightning on he goes!
'Tis queer to watch his gambols gay;
He's very loving—in his way:
He even wants to lick your face,
But that is somewhat out of place.
'Tis well enough your hand to kiss;
But Dash is not content with this!
Howe'er, let all his faults be past,
I'll praise him to the very last.
John Ruskin (1819-1900)
With fine long ears and full of mirth;
And sometimes, running o'er the plain,
He tumbles on his nose:
But quickly jumping up again,
Like lightning on he goes!
'Tis queer to watch his gambols gay;
He's very loving—in his way:
He even wants to lick your face,
But that is somewhat out of place.
'Tis well enough your hand to kiss;
But Dash is not content with this!
Howe'er, let all his faults be past,
I'll praise him to the very last.
John Ruskin (1819-1900)
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