Marcel Marceau, the greatest mime

For me, he did not die. How could such a man die? I saw him once when I was very young and he has been with me ever since. Here is a wonderful clip I just found. It is perhaps the only talky he ever made.

raven in red circle

While you were out

Shady deals. Don't even ask.

TA DA

Out-of-State Qi has arrived!

If you haven't been following the news, I recently won the Hammer's distinguished First Annual Worst Colored Helmet Award. Mayan Leopard was on hand to greet Out-of-State Qi and conduct the sniff test. There are, after all, certain protocols around the Language Barrier one must observe so that the flow of good luck and winning virtue will not be impeded. Plus, it is one gorgeous hunk and will look great on my window sill. At least now I can proudly wear my helmet. Who knows? Out-of-State Qi may actually have ended up saving my life! Thanks Hammer!

excerpt from the interior prisoner

13.

Being is a mouth
with which an unknowable word articulates itself

in a language which is the partial imprint
of something prior to speech,

like the impression left in grass
where an animal has rested.


--------------
author unknown
a translation of an unsigned manuscript
written at Salamanca around 1902
translated by: geoffrey o'brien
published at wordplayground

Annual Worst Colored Helmet Awards

Big day here. I just received the Annual Worst Colored Helmet Award. Thank you very much. Thank you very much. Acceptance speech included below.

OMG!!! OMG!!! I can't thank The Hammer or the judges enough for this prestigious award. OMG.

(pause for tears and nose blowing)

I want you all to know that The ECOVLGQTIFIMBY will never end up in my garage. It will always be under the auspices of Maneki Neko and sit proudly on my window sill next to the now petrified chip from a flying saucer radiator that I found in the desert.

But actually I cannot accept this award for myself alone. I stand here tonight on behalf of all those brave souls who risk scorn and ridicule to wear their hideously colored helmets in public. Furthermore they do this in spite of helmet laws that many of us feel are an invasion of the rights of idiots everywhere to willy-nilly smash their brains on highways and byways and die free or live on as vegetables at the expense of the hearts and pock books of family and state. And we fervently hope that our example serves as a reminder to spectral bikers everywhere to wear your helmet dammit, and stop playing chicken with LARGE MARGE!

LARGE MARGE

02:11

Ps. After reading eccentric recluse's comment that the The ECOVLGQTIFIMBY may be more than an Enormous Chunk Of Very Low Grade Quartz, I want to publicly remind you Hammer that that rock is mine!

Day in the life.00

It's only been one day but I don't know how much longer I can stand seeing M. Corbeau endure the insults of nature. Yes, he would grow hoary and wonderful after years of frost and snow and layers of poop, muddy prints and scratches from the hand snatchers (Maniraptora) but this morning he was covered with a thin layer of frost and even that was almost too much for me. I know it violates some obscure poetic principal that is compromised even by mention but before winter sets in he may have to join me on this side of the glass.

Charlie the Crow is also here this morning, cawing his signature 4 caws - pause - 4 caws - pause - 4 caws - pause ... on and on. Even I have gone out on occasion and asked him to put a sock in it. I don't know what's with that guy, must one of those loud mouth, first to arrive, last to leave reporters.

In other Bird Park news, the graying magpie with the scars under her jaw is also out there enjoying a Sunday brunch. She's a loner and smart, comes early then makes a second swoop mid-morning and doesn't panic when I toss out seconds on the peanut chips but instead flies to the roof of a nearby house and waits for to me to go away.

Quiz of the day: What do Swatch, Rebecca Taylor, Nicole Miller and Burton Snowboards have in common? Answer here.

Quail groupies

It's afternoon and the moon is 93% full and visible in its waning Gibbous phase over Africa, Paris, the Atlantic and all that, no place I can see, although I did rise early enough this morning to see it shining in through two small windows in the front part of the house and onto the row of cactus's by the door in pots which, I feel certain, made them very happy because plants love moonlight, and a party of quail just now came streaming through the Bird Park on their way to check out the finch spillage on the ground under the seed tube. This is not unusual. They visit the park several times a day for goodies, ending with one final swoop at twilight after everyone else is tucked in for the night, head under wing.

What is unusual, at least around here, is that finches, lots of them, have taken to hanging out with the quail, following them around the yard imitating everything they do. They sit on the fence with them and, when it's time for the quail dirt bath party, the finches are right there wallowing along side them in the soft warm dirt, something I never noticed them do on their own, not that they don't take dirt baths elsewhere. They probably do. I've just never seen them take one here. And they crowd into the butterfly bush when the quail are there doing whatever it is they do, nibble bugs maybe, tasty spiders or ants. They graze the weeds with them, and they bathe in the baths and drink together and, in the writing of this rather pointless post, the whole lot, quail and finches, have scooted off, probably back to Dwayne's for dinner. The only thing the finches don't do with them is the twilight snack. And the quail don't seem to mind the company. I did a quick search and found out that there is actually is an African Quail Finch. I have to say, they do look a bit alike, cousins maybe, same colored feathers anyway. You know what they say about feathers.

That's it. I just needed to write something.

Bill and M. Corbeau

Meet M. Corbeau. He just took up residence in the Bird Park this afternoon and startled the hell out of me every time I notice him today. Also I think he freaked out a lot of birds. Generally the last visitors to the park are the quail. They drop by in the evening to clean up the day's finch spillage but tonight only one made an appearance and, on seeing M. Corbeau, beat it. I went out just after that and took this photo. I wanted to see what M. looks like from a bird's point of view. I say ... scary.

It was twilight which is atmospheric in itself but of course to my delight, M. Corbeau is decidedly Edgar Allen Poeish on his own plus he is a gift from my daughter and her husband which even increases his panache. M. Corbeau is here to stay. The birds will have to get used to him. In fact, I fully expect to see one sitting on his head before long, or perhaps leaping up and down challenging him to a fight.




And in case you missed this, Bill Clinton had some very precise harsh words for the Republicrites who censured MoveOn this week for that General Betrayus ad, plus a nod to the few who refused to play their dirty little game. If you haven't already, have a listen. This guy is a born storyteller. I'd love to hear him cut loose at a rip roaring bullshit session.

Oh that's right. He's a politician. It's always a rip roaring bullshit session but you know what I mean.


Bill Clinton:
MoveOn ad condemnation classic bait and switch

02:03