| Heeeeeeeeere's Adventure Dog!
by Dave Barry
I have this idea for a new television series. It would be a realistic action
show, patterned after the true-life experiences of my dog, Earnest. The name
of the show would be: Adventure Dog.
The theme song would go:
Adventure dog,
Adventure dooooooooooggggg.
Kinda big, kinda strong
Stupid as a log.
Each episode would be about an exciting true adventure that happened to
Earnest. For example, here's the script for an episode entitled: "Adventure
Dog Wakes Up and Goes Outside."
It's 6:17 a.m. Adventure Dog is sleeping in the hall. Suddenly, she
hears a sound. Her head snaps up. Somebody is up! Time to swing
into action! Adventure Dog races down the hall and skidding on all
four paws, turns into the bathroom, where, to her total shock, she
finds: The Master! Whom she has not seen since LAST NIGHT!
YAYYYYYYY!!!
Adventure Dog: Bark!
Master: DOWN, dammit!!!
Now Adventure Dog bounds to the front door, in case the Master is
going to take her outside. It is a slim chance. He has only taken
her outside for the past 2,637 consecutive mornings. But just in
case, Adventure Dog is ready.
Adventure Dog: Bark!
Can it be? Yes! This is unbelievable! The Master is coming to the door!
Looks like Adventure Dog is going outside! YAAAAYYYY!!!
Master: DOWN, dammit!
Now the Master has opened the door approximately one inch. Adventure
Dog realizes that, at this rate, it may take the Master a full
three-tenths of a second to open the door all the way. This is bad.
He needs help. Adventure Dog puts her nose in the crack and applies
600,000 pounds of force to the door.
Master: HEY!
Door: WHAM!!!
And now Adventure Dog is through the door, looking left, looking
right, her finely honed senses absorbing every detail of the
environment, every nuance and subtlety, looking for....Holy Smoke!
There it is! The YARD! Right in the exact same place where it was
yesterday! This is turning out to be an UNBELIEVABLE adventure!
Adventure Dog: Bark!
Adventure Dog is vaguely troubled. Some primitive version of a
thought is rattling around inside her tiny cranium, like a BB in a
tuna-fish can. For she senses that there is some reason why the
Master has let her outside. There is something he wants Adventure Dog
to do. But what on Earth could it be? Before Adventure Dog can think
of an answer, she detects...is this possible? Yes! It's a SMELL!
Yikes! Full Red Alert!
Adventure Dog: Sniff sniff sniff.
Master: Come on, Earnest!
Adventure Dog: Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff.
Master: Will you hurry up!
Adventure Dog: Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff.
No question about it. The evidence is clear. This is a smell, all
right. And what's more, it's the smell of - this is so incredible -
DOG WEEWEE! Right here in the yard!
Master: EARNEST!
Adventure Dog: Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff.
Adventure Dog is getting the germ of an idea. At first it seems
farfetched but the more she thinks about it, the more she thinks, hey,
why not? The idea - get ready - Adventure Dog is going to MAKE
WEEWEE! Right now! Outside! It's crazy, but it just might work!
Master: Good GIRL.
What was that? It was a sound! A sound coming from....over there. Yes! No
question about it! This is unbelievable! It's the MASTER, out here in the
yard! YAAAAYYYY!
Master: DOWN, dammit!
Theme Song Singer: Adventure Dog, Adventure Doooooooooooooggggggggg...
Adventure Dog: BARK!
Master: DOWN!
Bear in mind that this is only one episode. There are many other
possibilities: "Adventure Dog Gets Fed"; "Adventure Dog Goes For a
Ride in the Car and Sees Another Dog and Barks Real Loud for the Next
116 Miles"; etc. It would be the kind of family-oriented show your
kids could watch, because there would be extremely little sex, thanks
to an earlier episode, "Adventure Dog Has An Operation." |   |
| A Wise Word On Success
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
To laugh often and love much;
To win the respect of intelligent persons
and the affection of children;
To earn the approbation of honest citizens
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To give of one's self;
To leave the world a bit better,
whether by a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm
and sung with exulatation;
To know even one life has breathed easier
because you have lived -
This is to have suceeded. | | |
| When All the Laughter Dies in Sorrow
by Kendrew Lascelles
When all the laughter dies in sorrow
And the tears have risen to a flood
When all the wars have found a cause
In human wisdom and in blood
Do you think they'll cry in sadness
Do you think the eye will blink
Do you think they'll curse the madness
Do you even think they'll think
When all the great galactic systems
Sigh to a frozen halt in space
Do you think there will be some remnant
Of beauty of the human race
Do you think there will be a vestage
Or a sniffle or a cosmic tear
Do you think a greater thinking thing
Will give a damn that man was here? | | |
| Wings
by Cathy M.
If you could have wings would you want them?
I don't know.
If you could use them to fly, would you want them?
Yes, if I could fly.
If they would be very big. If they might brush against your knees as you
walked, might interfere with your gait, might be too large for some doorways.
And if you could never take them off?
I'd want them.
If you couldn't sit at some tables, ride in some trains. If you could never
take them off, even when you wanted to meet someone, even when you wanted to
go to bed?
Yes.
Because you could fly?
Yes, because of the flying.
If they were heavy, if they bowed your shoulders, if no one else had them.
If they made people stare, made them angry. If they wouldn't understand that you could fly. If they thought the wings meant something else, if they didn't know?
I would know.
If you had arms, legs, eyes, ears, could speak, wings too?
If I could have them too I would want them too.
And if the flying, if that only worked sometimes. If you could only fly once
In a great while, with only those few who had wings too?
I would want them, always.
All, because of the flying?
Yes,
On account of the flying,
but also,
in honor of the wind. | | |
| Unknown
by Pastor Martin Niemöller
First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me. | | |
| Politics and Feminism
by Anonymous
You tell me
I am not political.
That my poems have no meaning
To any outside
Those who have shared the experience.
When every time
I open my legs
Politics come to bed.
When any poem
Of politics I write
Would be relegated
To the Woman's studies section
Of the bookstore. | | |
| Anguish Unseen
by Dragon and Rae
Sparkling in the sunlight,
And sombre in the rain,
This dragon yearns for nothing
But to be rid of her pain.
Beauty in her movements,
And wonder in her eyes.
This dragon asks for little
But wants to feel alive.
Words are often spoken,
Caring in each thought -
This dragon yearns for knowledge
And for her fears to rot.
Scarred deep down inside her
But happy she appears,
Friendly in the light of day
At night she cries her tears.
Hidden by her glory
And sheltered by strong walls,
Her scars she hides so deeply
But inside her anguish claws.
Life has cut too deeply
More then our words can show
And while she veils her torments,
She blooms and starts to grow
Her soul is all in pieces,
Knowing neither how nor when,
This dragon longs for amity
And to be whole once again.
And as her wounds are healing
She needs you as a part,
This dragon longs for little more
Than to live inside your heart.
Even though she hurts inside,
Although she's not all right,
This dragon knows that with your love,
She'll make it through the night. | | |
| Cry
by Dragon
I accepted that I was weak, because they said so.
I accepted that I was worthless, because they said so.
I accepted that I was beneath them, because they said so.
I accepted their whispers, sneers, and name calling, because they told me
to.
I accepted abuse,
Because who was I to want anything better?
I let them control me.
I suppressed all the pain,
All the hate, all the anger,
Because that was what I was supposed to do.
Often, I felt the sobs
Well up in my throat,
Choking me, ripping away all my dignity.
I thought this was the ultimate signs of weakness.
I knew that if I cried, I’d have to admit that I wasn’t right.
That something was definitely wrong with my life, and that I wasn’t okay.
So I didn’t cry.
Okay, sometimes I cried
When I thought I lost my money for the book fair.
But we were very poor,
And money was very important to Mommy,
And it was important not to lose it.
Mrs. Tilley and Annie would help me search for it,
And we usually found it in some of the most obvious places.
And then I felt weak because I completely overreacted.
Sometimes I cried for other reasons.
Sometimes I cried because Dad hurt Mommy.
Or because Dad or his new family hurt me,
And those are the times I tried my hardest to suppress the tears.
Sometimes I cried because of the divorce.
And the fighting. There was so much fighting.
I still remember the first time
I heard truly profane words.
Dad told Mommy that
She was a “mother fucker”,
And he slammed his door and drove away.
I was scared and confused.
I’d never heard my father scream like that.
I asked Mommy what it meant,
And she bent down to my level,
With tears in her eyes and a mask of anger,
And told me not to worry about it and not to repeat it.
Hitherto, I never did.
Isn’t that funny? I know it’s not.
So you can see why
I sometimes lost myself
In tears after I overheard the fights.
But even then, I didn’t cry very often.
I remember coming home from school
And meeting Nanny on the corner.
I was sobbing.
She asked me why I was crying.
I told her it was because the kids at school
Were making fun of my shoes.
They were caked with dirt
And had lots of holes in them.
And I didn’t have the heart
To ask Mommy to buy me a new pair.
Money was very short in those days.
Nanny told me not to cry.
Never to cry. Not in front of them.
That I shouldn’t let them know I’m in pain.
That would only provoke them, of course.
So I took it to heart. It worked.
They soon tired of making fun
Of the girl who didn’t care.
I did care though. I cared a lot.
But suppressing the tears
Didn’t really make the pain go away.
Bottling it up is a good short term solution,
But in the end isn’t too efficient
But for 9 years,
Note that this is over half of my life,
I suppressed my pain.
It wasn’t until I hit puberty,
When I just couldn’t hold it in any longer,
That I realized how beautiful tears could be.
And just how wonderful feeling anything can be.
I wish I had learned how to
Cry without shame a lot sooner than I did.
But better late than never, right? | | |
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