Off of Kasey's request for Anchorman poetry. Okay, he barely mentions Anchorman, but Anchorman poetry interests me a lot more than Lord of the Rings/American Pie poetry.

And just to kick something off, on the subject of lines: most of Anchorman's best lines came improvised. Maybe the first problem is no poetry equivalent of Second City. Maybe the first problem is that poetry-as-defense-mechanism involves burrowing and hiding and pouring in private spaces. Whereas the whole goal of improv is to save yourself in the eyes of the crowd. Entertaining: to support, to hold together. To hold together the crowd, sure: but why not yourself as well?

Caveat: I just sort of heard somewhere that Anchorman had a loose, improvised script. If I'm wrong -- well. Well, you know.


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sincerity, bitches

The Day That Dale Died

When I saw the wreck I knew he was gonna be ok.
We were still at the hospital (my first child's birth).
One of the very last times I weighed myself.

I never even cried when my momma, passing through from
acid rock to Hollywood, died in an H-60 crash:
no-one cared. But I quit following NASCAR the day Dale died.

The compass of this sport lost its 'True North
on April 2, 1996, the day Dale died from cancer.

Every day we were assailed by the screech and roar
of our fighter planes. You have a pride for your country
before a determination is made on your claim.

I just hope he brightened it up, doing what he loved,
doing more than anything, surrounded by loved ones,
children and even so many other men like him.

Last October, right before goblin-fish season,
Jimmy Dale died of a coronary.


the british are coming

For those readers interested in the whole Boston LED "terror" story involving LEDs, D batteries, a shamefaced police department and traditional media outlets who adore confusion and ignorance, here is a decent analogy from Joe Keohane of the Weekly Dig:

Next, let’s all get out our dictionary and look up “hoax”, shall we? Because while “War of the Worlds” was a hoax, this was not. There was no subterfuge involved, and no effort made to convince people that these devices were bombs. If I see a scary looking tree out my bedroom window, think it’s a monster, and then discover upon closer inspection that it isn’t, it doesn’t mean the tree has perpetrated a hoax against me. What it means is that for a moment I took leave of my senses. And just because I’m embarrassed about it doesn’t give me the right to go cut down the tree.