It’s a bird … it’s a plane … it’s cupid!
Valentines Day is alive, well and like most American traditions, eclectic and commercialized.
Florists, chocolatiers, lingerie merchants and jewelers are devoted to that chubby cherub and his quiver of arrows. School children are eager to eat cupcakes topped with conversation hearts and stuff die cut cards into decorated shoe boxes. Same sex couples are poised to stage Valentine’s Day protests for marriage rights. Millions of smartphone users are titillated by texts spicy enough to have made great-grandma blush . . . had she been able to decode them.
This ever evolving chaos has been been part of American culture for quite some time, and it’s here to stay. Mass produced greeting cards became popular in the mid-19th century. By the mid-20th century, the tradition had expanded to include gift giving. (Comedian Jay Leno has nicknamed February 14th “Extortion Day.”)
In that spirit of hearts and flowers, I bring you two of my favorite humorous Valentine’s Day poems:
Ogden Nash 1902 – 1971
To my Valentine
— by Ogden Nash
More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That’s how much I love you.I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than a gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That’s how much you I love.I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oathes,
That’s how you’re loved by me.
Litany
— by Billy Collins
Wishing you all you’re wishing for . . . plus a little chocolate . . . on this celebrated day!
Happy Birthday, dear Google . . .
Today, September 27th, 2012 marks the fourteenth birthday of Google. (I googled it.) Wikipedia (according to itself) celebrated its eleventh birthday last January 15th. The iPhone (according to a news item in the LA Times I used mine to pull up) had its fifth birthday last June 29th. Each of these innovations have changed our world in their own right, but the three of them together have had a kick that reminds me of oxygen, nitrogen and carbon becoming nitroglycerin.*
*Upon reading, this my husband, who is a walking encyclopedia, (see below) said I forgot to mention hydrogen in the nitroglycerin compound. Rather than throw out the analogy, let’s pretend hydrogen atoms are the people using the technology.
While we’ve been learning to reach for our iPhones to Google Wikipedia, our humor has become increasingly referential as well. Seth MacFarlane for example, leads us down ever-more-elaborate halls of mirrors in his hit show Family Guy.
Of course neuroscientists, psychologists and sociologists are studying the myriad ways this ubiquitous digital technology affects us. Some of their findings are surprising, others . . . not so much to those of us old enough to have been firmly entrenched in adult life in the slower, more deliberate, analogue days.
It stands to reason that there’s less social currency in being a walking encyclopedia in a world where everyone walks around with access to an encyclopedia. But I’ve noticed something else as well: The more these tools are available, the less I trust my own memory. (“No wonder,” you say after the nitroglycerin debacle.) Regardless, the less I trust my own memory, the more I double check. The more I double check, the less I commit to memory. . . and so on.
When it comes to facts at our fingertips, there is a thin line between usefulness and compulsion. Once we cross that line, we become like the guidebook-happy tourist whose every experience either confirms what he read, or will be confirmed by what he is about to read.
We are the last generation to remember digging through our pockets for change to buy a hamburger instead of swiping a card. And we are the last generation to remember searching our minds for facts instead of searching the internet. With that thought, I bring you Billy Collins’ 1999 poem Forgetfulness.
(c) 2012, Caroline Sposto
. . . which reminds me . . .
Dramatization of the blogger reading today’s paper.
Somebody once said you know you’re getting older when everybody you meet reminds you of somebody else. This not only bears out, but it also holds true for news items. At my age, they tend to read like reruns or crib notes.
Today––apropos for summer in Memphis––I was up at dawn to beat the heat when two unrelated articles caught my attention: #1.) Scientists are working on a “smoking vaccine” and have developed a shot that blocks nicotine in the brains of mice. #2.) On this day in history––June 29, in 1613––William Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre burned to the ground.
. . . Mice . . . Fire . . . Which reminds me . . . .of this ingenious poem “The Country” by former Poet Laureate Billy Collins brought to life in animation by Brady Baltezor of Radium.
I was going to start theorizing about the allegorical meaning in the piece but (God bless the delete key) changed my mind. As Cole Porter put it in “Kiss Me, Kate,” –– It’s too darn hot.
Sit back, take a cool sip and enjoy this delightful poem. If it whets your appetite for more animated Billy Collins poems, click here.
TGIF!
Humor in America 