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Imitation, Mitosis, Osmosis

Imitation, Mitosis, Osmosis

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“Imitosis” – Andrew Bird

He’s keeping busy
Yeah he’s bleeding stones
With his machinations and his palindromes
It was anything but hear the voice
anything but hear the voice
It was anything but hear the voice
That says that we’re all basically alone

Poor Professor Pynchon had only good intentions
When he put his Bunsen burners all away
And turning to a playground in a Petri dish
Where single cells would swing their fists
At anything that looks like easy prey
In this nature show that rages every day
It was then he heard his intuition say

We were all basically alone
And despite what all his studies had shown
That what’s mistaken for closeness
Is just a case for mitosis
And why do some show no mercy
While others are painfully shy
Tell me doctor can you quantify
He just wants to know the reason, the reason why

Why do they congregate in groups of four
Scatter like a billion spores
And let the wind just carry them away?
How can kids be so mean?
Our famous doctor tried to glean
As he went home at the end of the day
In this nature show that rages every day
It was then he heard his intuition say

We were all basically alone
Despite what all his studies had shown
That what’s mistaken for closeness
Is just a case of mitosis
Sure fatal doses of malcontent through osmosis
And why do some show no mercy
While others are painfully shy
Tell me doctor, can you quantify
The reason why


Hokey-Pokey Shakespeare

Hokey-Pokey Shakespeare

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The Washington Post Style Invitational contest asked readers to submit “instructions” for something (anything), written in the style of a famous person. The winning entry was “The Hokey Pokey” as written by W. Shakespeare:

O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heaven’s yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke — banish now thy doubt;
Verily, I say, ’tis what it’s all about.

(thanks Corinne!)

I’m not the only one who enjoys it (despite the missing four lines which would have made it a true imitation). It has been blogged a lot. I found the original at the March 2003 contest page. The author is Jeff Brechlin, from Potomac Falls. He won a shotgun shell salt and pepper shaker for his effort. Congrats Jeff!

These other two entires weren’t circulated, but I liked them just as much.

Here is Paul Dudley’s impression of Robert Frost’s voicemail (or answering machine) message. I’m thinking about singing it, as a tango, to the next telemarketer that bothers me during dinner.

I’m not at home, or I’m asleep,
But do not fret, and do not weep.
Just leave a message at the beep,
Just leave a message at the beep.

And of course, where would my sense of performative irony be without the inclusion of some fake Emily Dickinson (snort)?

Have a little giggle, and pray that the lady of Amherst isn’t hanging around in any conscious form to know about things like being channelled by Jim Roy Wilson (Washington) for this consumer message:

A gauzy Skein of Propylene —
That sways with slightest Breath —
This bag holds smocks — and Bread and Milk
But — in its folds — lies Death.
It sways and puffs — this Thistledown,
Balloonlike in its joy —
Each tiny mouth a perfect fit —
This bag is not a toy.

Try it to the tune of “The Yellow Rose of Texas”… or “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing” (the latter itself stolen for the old Coke commercial).