15 posts tagged “who would win”
Short-form Poetry rumble! Emphasis on short.
Sonnet vs Limerick
A sonnet has a lot of tricky rules, and not just in the meter and the rhyme. The subject, tone, and muse are also tools that sonnet writers need to keep in line. Plus, usually a sonnet has a twist that's stuck somewhere between lines eight and nine, so now you've got to go from being pissed to acting as if everything is fine. And yet a sonnet's not like that at all; it's simple as the weekly shopping list you write down as you head out to the mall. With fourteen lines, you've mostly got the gist. It also helps to end it with a pun. If you don't feel "write", then you know you're done.
A limerick for better or worse is a joke poem, stuffed in five verses. You must squeeze a lot in the lines that you've got, and then load it with bull$#!% and curses.
Winner: Sonnet
Haiku vs. Blank verse
A word Polaroid free from rules except for some syllable counting. If you need more beats, you could write a second one, if you like cheating.
Blank verse is basically prose and don't try to tell me that it isn't you can pretty much write any damn thing on a piece of paper and bang you've got blank verse and suddenly you're an amazing poet even though you didn't think once about meter or rhyme or metaphor or any of the other things that real poets do no all you did was take out the punctuation and suddenly you're the next e e cummings and then when people start to catch on that you're slumming your way through your poem you just add a few wacky nonsequiturs for people to try to read some deeper meaning into and then sit back and laugh at all the poor saps you've hoodwinked like the lion hoodwinks the gazelle under starry skies when first the blood flowed from claw to heart and back again zippy skippy woo woo
Winner: Haiku
Double Dactyl vs. Villanelle
Dactylly Schmacktylly. This kind of poetry calls for some gibberish, meter and rhyme. Then put a big word like septuagenarian there at the ending. Whee! What a good time.
A villanelle repeats itself a lot so try to make the first verse really great or you will get annoyed at what you've got. The repetition makes it hard to plot, so there's a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. A villanelle repeats itself a lot. If you rushed in you might find that you're caught. Just don't let it become a poem you hate or you will get annoyed at what you've got. There's nothing here. Just look at what I've wrought: it's like unending gruel left on my plate. A villanelle repeats itself a lot. A really gripping poet I am not. I pray that you do not repeat my fate or you will get annoyed with what you've got. Please do not forget what you've been taught. Just keep in mind these urgent words I state "A villanelle repeats itself a lot" or you will get annoyed with what you've got.
Winner: Double Dactyl
(To be continued)
The Three Somethings division
Three Little Pigs vs. Three Bears
Three Little Pigs
The story of three enterprising young swine who are relentlessly stalked by a pork-hungry talking wolf probably scars more young children than any other fairy tale. While Little Red Riding Hood's Grandmother is no longer eaten (or at least no longer digested), no one is making the argument that the Big Bad Wolf is blowing down houses in order to put some pigs in a closet, except possibly R. Kelly. These pigs are going to be eaten. Even in the comfort of their own kindling laden home. When I was a child, it did not evade my thinking that our modern suburban home, when you got right down to it, is made up of so many sticks. And that wolf just does not give up. In the Richard Scarrey version (the one that haunted my fevered dreams), the wolf follows the last surviving pig to the fair, the market, the roast beef, everywhere. And after all of that, he decides he'll just go down the chimney. Just like Santa Claus. Is it any wonder that 40% of my generation sleep in front of their fireplaces with a loaded gun?
Three Bears
The three pigs got smarter as they progressed, going from a hay house that is vulnerable to wind, fire, earthquakes, floods, horses, allergies, magnifying glasses, and a halfhearted punching to a house that is vulnerable to all of the same things except swap beavers for horses and the home-security measure of the threat of splinters to bricks, impervious to all but a single-wolf fighter firing himself down the thermal exhaust port. The three bears, on the other hand, just get their respective grills more got up into. The patriarch of the ursine trio, he of the searing hot porridge and enormous easy chair, clearly has nothing to fear from his fair haired intruder. His spouse, who has already condemned herself to a life of cold porridge and sleeping alone on a concrete slab is probably not going to notice a the breaking and entering unless she sees a chance for sweet death to put an end to her miserable existence. Only young Baby Bear feels the brunt of Goldilocks wrath, what with having his porridge eaten and his tiny chair broken and a new bunkmate. But come on, let's face it, there are a lot of places this story could go at this point, with the strange girl sleeping in the bear's bed. The fact that it pretty much ends with him whining and her running away does nothing to diminish the thoughts of what a violent or disturbing fairy tale this could have been. Neither does the fact that the bears are the eaters, and pigs are the eaten.
Winner: Bears
Three Musketeers vs. Three Stooges
Three Musketeers
The great thing about the Three Musketeers is that there's really four of them, the three that get the book named after them and then the Super-musketeer D'Artagnan. Plus, Musketeers were born to win in a fight. That's their job. If only they actually knew something about operating a musket, they'd be unstoppable.
Three Stooges
The other thing about the three Musketeers, though, is that they're French, and brimming with self-confidence and bravado. Before they get to the "One for all" part, they'd probably have Moe's fingers in Porthos's eyes and Larry would have thrown a half-dozen pies at Aramis and Curly would be spinning around in circles yelling Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk while a mad badger comes out of nowhere to bite Athos in the butt and frankly, that kind of imagery is what makes Who Would Win in a Fight so special to me.
Winner: Stooges
Three Kings of Orient Are vs. Three Blind Mice
Three Kings
The three kings of Orient Are cool. First of all, they have great names. Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazaar are all pretty sweet sounding names. They're the kinds of names you'd want to yell just before drawing your sword and charging a group of ninjas. Try it: "MEEEEELLLLL-CHIOR!" (Also, let me know if you're fighting ninjas with swords so I can include you in the next who would win in a fight. If you win, I mean.) All right, Caspar got the short end of the stick due to the whole friendly ghost thing, but mark my words, once the memory of the most aggravating theme song you know has left our collective consciousness, everyone will be naming their kids Caspar or Casparina. Plus, Balthazaar is just such a kick-ass name, it carries the other two. The three kings also came with pretty cool gifts, all of which would double as handy weapons in a fight. Gold: blunt object or sword covering. Myrrh: Oil of Death. Frankincense: The sweet, earthy scent of a creature made out of dead body parts and lightning. The three kings would win against almost anything. Except for, you know, a rubber cigar.
Three Blind mice
So who have I matched against these gift-wielding potentates from parts East? Mutilated mice. Not only are they lacking in the vision department, but they also got their tails hacked off, which mice use to hear, or smell, or something. Or maybe that's snakes. Anyway, what reason would I have to think that these lowly rodents would stand a chance against three mighty kings? In a word: I have no reason, I'm just a sadistic jerk. See how they run. Mwa-ha-ha-ha-haaaaa!
Winner: Kings
Three Rs (Readin', wRitin' and aRithmetic) vs. Three Rs (Reduce, Reuse, Recycle)
Readin', Ritin', and 'Rithmetic
Here's the thing. If you're going to be defining a word as an R just because it has an R near the front instead of actually at the front, you could justify a ton more subjects: Running, 'Restling, 'Rigonometry, 'Rchestra, 'Rt, the list goes on and on. It would have been easy to eliminate Reading with the hypothesis that you can't Rite unless you can Read. Plus, we're dealing with children here, so the concept of teaching understanding how to read followed by two misspelled subjects is probably lost on them. Who knows how many high school students go through their academic career thinking they never learned a thing about Rithmetic, having no idea that it's a made up antiquated word for what modern youths call plussing and minussing.
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle
At the front, you could justify a ton more subjects: Running, 'Restling, 'Rigonometry, 'Rchestra, 'Rt, the list goes on and on. It would have been easy to eliminate Reading with they hypothesis that you can't Rite unless you can Read word what antiquated for minussing youths call plussing and modern. Dude, these three R's don't work for blogging at all!
Winner: Neither wins, the Three Kings get the extra trophy
Is this a season especially bereft with misheard lyrics? 'Tis! Everyone knows the words to Christmas carols, which is why it's so funny that no one knows any of the words to Christmas carols. Now I am, of course, totally immune to singing incorrect Christmas music, because I have sung in choirs, and Christmas music is about 60% of any good choir's repertoire. However, part of being in a choir is having the proof that you've been mis-singing music shoved down your golden throat. I came to realize that not only did I not know the right lyrics, I didn't even know the right wrong lyrics. That is to say, most people make the same mistakes in Christmas music, but by comparison, my mistakes are completely off.
For example:
Good King Wenceslas
My version: Goat King wets his pants. Look out on the feast of Stephen
The correct incorrect version: Good King Wensy's car backed out on a piece of Stephen
WWWIAF? Christmas music has been surprisingly neglectful of the incontinence of the Goat King, but honestly, I'm more intrigued about which piece of Stephen was smashed under Wensy's car. Where was the rest of him at the time? Who was this Stephen, who leaves body parts somewhere that a king, a good king, can run over them? Was it the start of an international incident? Frankly, that's just the makings of a better Christmas song. Winner: Them.
Frosty the Snowman
My version: Frosty the Snowman is a fairly tainted sleigh
The correct incorrect version: Frosty the Snowman is a ferret elf I say
WWWIAF? Both versions try to cram a little more Christmas into a song that mentions neither Jesus nor Santa. In my mind, this kindly animated snow sculpture is also a means of winter transportation. The common misconception is that ol' Frosty is moonlighting as a ferret that is also an elf. Does this ferret make toys? Work for Keebler? Have exceptionally pointy ears? I don't get it. A fairly tainted sleigh makes ton more sense. Winner: Me.
Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
My version: They know that Santa's on his way. He's loaded lots of poisoned goodies on his sleigh
The correct incorrect version: None. No one else gets this part wrong.
WWWIAF? Those poor tiny tots have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Not only will they leave the MRI all aglow, but they'll find it hard to sleep after a stocking-full of poison. Why did I think Santa was so malevolent? Probably because he never gave me Castle Grayskull. Anyone who could deny me He-Man's favorite hangout spot is probably someone who'd poison a kid. Clearly, I have problems. Winner: Them.
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
My version: God dressed you, Mary Jentermann, let's not think you're this made
The correct incorrect version: Get dressed ye merry gentlemen, get huffing you this May
WWWIAF? Clearly, I was jealous of Mary Jentermann's sense of style and couldn't bring myself to admit that she could achieve such fashions without some kind of supernatural help. She was simply years ahead of her time, and the flowing golden robes seemed like something she would have gotten from the Man Upstairs. The common version of this song is a little more urgent. If there are several undressed gentlemen running around who don't plan to shove off for five months, I'd think that would bring more tidings of annoyance and/or terror than comfort and joy. But what do I know? Clearly not song lyrics. Winner: Them.
Conclusion: I know most of these songs now, so I can console myself about this loss. I won't let it get to me, and tonight I'll sleep in heavenly peas.
Games I played last weekend vs. Games I didn't play but very well could have, thank you very much
Saboteur is the first game I ever played for board game night, because it's one of those rare games that can accommodate 10 players. It's great. Everyone should play it. (And I'm not just saying that because I totally won even though I was stuck being the saboteur two out of three rounds.) But no one should let me explain it to them, because I'm horrible at it. I tried playing with my mom and sister last summer, and I did not explain it well. My sister drew a card and didn't know what it meant. I apologized, and explained that with that card, she could look under one of the three destination cards. On her next turn she played that card, "Ohhhh. Huh," she said, clearly confused. I apologized and explained that two of the cards were just plain coal, and only one of them had any gold under it. "Of course," she said, but it was obvious she was still confused. I apologized and explained that the goal was to get to the gold piece before we ran out of cards. Then she got it. Two turns later, I apologized and added the caveat that the Saboteur was trying to stop people from getting the gold. At that point, she and my mom developed a sudden interest in, well, in not playing saboteur anymore, but at least I won by forfeit! Although I think I added the points wrong.
Quoridor actually may not have been a legitimate game in keeping with last week's theme. The theme was "Games that involve a journey" but then I worried that we didn't have enough games that fit the theme, so I added "or containt the letter e." Upon further reflection, most of my games do not contain any e's either. I had to shelve Catan, Anagrammania, Star Wars Trivial Pursuit, Cranium Cadoo, Upwords, and or course Quoridor, unless you make the argument that getting to the other side of the board is really making a journey. Next time I'm in charge of a theme, it will be "Games that you own." Anyway, the point in Quoridor is that you cross the board before your opponent(s), and you can choose to either move or stick a wall in front of their paths. I take away point from Quoridor for having an annoying misspelling for a name (of course, I take away points from Saboteur for having an annoying correct spelling for a name).
As far as a physical fight goes, I think a saboteur would beat a corridor. And a wizard named Saboteur would defeat a dragon named Quoridor. And a tackling dummy called "The Saboteur" would probably beat a quarterback named Peyton Quoridor.
Winner: Saboteur, although if I spell it "sabatuer" one more time I'm giving the victory to Quoridor.
Lord of the Rings vs. Order of the Stick
Lord of the Rings is exactly like that movie about the Lord of the Rings except that all of the characters are trudging inexorably toward despair while despair creeps ceaselessly toward them, and once things start to look grim for the hobbits, they just die, and there's a fifth hobbit named Fatty. And there's practically no mention of Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir, or Gollum. Also, instead of traveling through Middle Earth, they're going through Trenton, New Jersey in an enormous flying pickle. Lord of the Rings is really tense, and as we drew closer to Sauron, it looked inevitable that there would be casualties. The fact that we eked by without losing even Fatty was pretty remarkable. I think I would have liked this game a lot less if someone would have shuffled off their mortal coil, but the fact that we all made it through made it feel like a big victory. Not only was this a great, nerdy game, I'd be happy to jump headlong into the nerd pool and play it with the expansions.
Speaking of nerdy, the Order of the Stick is a board game based off of a web comic based off of Dungeons and Dragons. That's some bone-deep hard-core nerdiness right there. That's like the process in which nerds are received. And also, you can play this one game for seven hours. It's called the weekend killer. That's really what scared me off. If I didn't like it, that's a lot of time to throw away forever. If I did like it, well, then I'd be through the looking glass here, people. It was fun to look at the cards though, and enjoy that special nerdy pleasure of getting the webcomic based inside jokes.
In a fight, a well-balanced troupe of adventurers would probably beat five hobbits, but I get the feeling that a hobbit named Fatty could beat an archer named Haley Starshine, and that Belkar would defect almost immediately, like a sabatuer. Plus Sauron is more intimidating that Xykon.
Winner: Lord of the Rings
Lifeboats vs. Apples to Apples
Lifeboats helped me learn something about myself. I have terrible taste in lifeboats. The idea behind the game is that you choose a lifeboat (if the other passengers allow you to board) to get to the island before it sinks (the lifeboat, not the island, although maybe also the island). It was a fun concept, because each lifeboat becomes its own mini-democracy. Of course, that does you no good if the voters all hate you. Every time I chose a lifeboat, it would either spring a leak or the other lifeboat passengers would become so enraged at my presence that they'd dump me overboard. Maybe they weren't ready for my brave new ideas about island management (it involved a lot of kooky inventions made from coconuts). Maybe they didn't like the constant seasickness. Maybe I just had a reputation for dooming lifeboats. Whatever the reason, I sucked at Lifeboats. On the bright side, they were probably all going to die on the island anyway. Especially if they didn't have any coconuts.
You can play Apples to Apples with your friends or with your grandma and still have a great time. Of course, your friends are always going to vote against you and Grandma will probably not use the William Shatner card at exactly the right time, but Apples to Apples is a great game. You have a bunch of noun cards and you have to choose the one that is best described by the adjective card. Aaron could do well at this game.
In an actual shipwreck, I think you'd rather have a lifeboat than two apples. Also, if the lifeboats fought the apples, the lifeboats would probably transform into some kind of robot, and the apples would probably be associated with Strawberry Shortcake and her band of cheery non-pugilists.
Winner: Lifeboats, as long as I'm not on them.
Guillotine vs. Dora the Explorer Memory
I'd never played Guillotine before, but it's a great concept. It is the French revolution, scores of once noble people lined up to die by beheading and it's up to you to save them all. No, just kidding. It's up to you to get the credit when the unpopular ones die. You do this by juggling the line, sending various people up to the front or toward the back, then when the blade falls, you give a little fist pump and mouth "That was me. I did that!" and cheer as the little head goes rolling past your feet. I sucked at this game too, but that did not diminish my enjoyment of decapitating the French aristocracy one whit. Except the one named Piss Boy. Beheading someone who is either named or employed as Piss Boy is just adding insult to injury. I also enjoyed participating in the long-standing but unspoken debate about whether it's pronounced GILL-oteen or GEE-ateen. Long-standing but unspoken debates are something of a hobby of mine. Good times all around.
Dora the Explorer Memory is a lot more complicated than I remember Memory being. For one thing, it includes 400 cards. And about half of them are of Dora, just in different poses. In one she's riding a horse, in one she's catching an Explorer star, in one she's riding a unicorn, in another she's catching a slightly smaller explorer star. Also, in some of the cards, the backgrounds are pink, in other cards, they're rosa. In the end, it doesn't really matter for Aaron, because instead of playing memory, he'd really rather just play 400 pickup.
Who would win in a physical fight between 400 Dora the Explorers and an extra-sharp mob-controlled guillotine? Honestly, I don't want to know the answer to that question. Instead, we'll put it this way: who would win in a footrace?
Winner: Guillotine. Dora's gotta check the map, find the Explorer Stars, jump over the cocodrilos, it takes her a half hour just to get to the backyard.
Today is Blog Action Day! Take action by posting about the environment in your own way.
Who Would Win in a Fight X. Noodle Shapes? The Environment?
Vermicelli vs. Endangered Species
Well, first of all, vermicelli is better than spaghetti because it's slightly less wormlike, and that's a good quality to have in a food. For a noodle, it's got a pleasant texture, and still lets you slurp it if you want to. On the other hand, vermicelli is Italian for "rodent prison", so that takes away some of the appeal. Apparently eighteenth century Italians used vermicelli to entangle mice and rats that overran their kitchens and restaurants. I don't know which enterprising young chef came up with the concept of cooking vermicelli and serving it to people instead of using it to capture disease-ridden rodents, but I sincerely hope that person was shot.
The problem with endangered species is that most endangered species are gross, like the Coffin Cave Mold Beetle or delicious like the Giant Panda. There's not a lot of incentive to save a vanishing animal when you either want to eat it or want to smash it with a sledgehammer and run away screaming. And frankly, if you're trying to imagine a world without Coffin Cave Mold Beetles, you're probably not devastated and crying into your Pandaburger. Still, saving animals is something deeply ingrained into us from a very young age, thank you very much Wonderpets and Go Diego Go, so just rename it the Chuck Norris Beetle and call Pandas Vermiursas (Italian for rodent bears) and rescue the damn species. Doesn't that feel better?
Winner: Endangered Species
Elbow Macaroni vs. The Ozone Layer
I like Elbow Macaroni. Both Elbow and Macaroni are fun words, and it's fun to put them together, like "weasel plucker" and "bumpkin rumba" and "fashion nugget". They also made Kraft a household name, and are a major staple of life for toddlers and college students, both of whom are more than content to eat bowls of the stuff in front of Spongebob Squarepants and then leave the bowls anywhere sitting around the house for weeks. Elbow Macaroni is also the only pasta shape other than the medium sized shell that can justifiably be used in a tuna salad, and that goes a long way for me.
Remember when the ozone layer was disappearing? Those were troubling times indeed. Set one foot in the Arctic Circle and it would combust like an over-microwaved marshmallow. Everyone was talking about ozone back in the early 90s, which was kind of funny, because it sounds like a word that Cosmo made up ("Thirteen things you must know about your man's ozone!") Thankfully, someone managed to take care of that at some point, because no one really talks about the ozone layer anymore. Of course, nowadays you're supposed to slather sunscreen on in February even if you stay indoors, so maybe the problem didn't go away. We might as well work to bring it back, because you can probably never have too many ozone layers. You can restore the ozone layer using common elements found in your home, like antichlorofluorocarbons and ozone.
Winner: Elbow Macaroni
Farfalle vs. Littering
Why bow ties? I understand that, at some point, pasta manufacturers realized that people will eat pasta shaped like anything -- spirals, Scooby-Doo, Spaghetti-O's, genitalia -- seriously, what's wrong with you people? But bow ties? The universal symbol for nerd? If I wanted to eat men's neckwear with my meal, I would have preferred some kind of garlic ascot. I guess the farfalle shape does act as a pair of little scoops for your marinara sauce, but why stop at two? Why not make a double bow tie and call it a windmill (actually, I'm sure those greedy pasta manufacturers already have. Is there no shape to which they will not stoop?)? Most of the points for farfalle come from the fact that it kind of reminds me of fahrfuerdnugen. Ich liebe fahrfuerdnugen.
Litter is a slap in America's face. Give a hoot, don't pollute. Keep America clean. Don't be a litterbug. Use the can, man. Littering makes aging Native Americans cry. As a kid, I equated littering with a crime somewhere between armed robbery and indecent exposure, all of which I figured were punishable by at least thirty years in prison, and eventually, hell. Of course, as a slightly older kid, I loved to open the car window as we were driving and throw out pieces of candy wrapper and watch them flail on the wind like a woefully unprepared skydiver, often supplying little screaming sounds. I'm not sure how I resolved these beliefs. I still bristle at littering when I'm not the person doing it. Also: the first time I saw a sign that said $1000 fine for littering, I figured it meant that someone thought it would be just fine if you threw a few hundreds out the window.
Winner: Littering, and the preventing thereof
Lasagna vs. Global Warming
It is a family tradition for us to have a lasagna every New Year's Day. It is an ordeal. It has six cheeses, five meats, two sauces, and it takes three days to make. By the time the lasagna is done, my parents are ready for the year to be over already. I like lasagna. I kept reading Garfield for years after everyone else had given up on him because I felt a real lasagna kinship. That, and Garfield's name for his teddy bear was my father's nickname for boogers. But mostly for the lasagna. It's like layer upon layer of different Italian cuisine, and also, lots of extra cheese.
There are plenty of scientists who will tell you that global warming is a hoax, but then there are also plenty of scientists who will tell you that cavemen used to ride dinosaurs to the cave-store, and the pyramids were designed by ghostly martians, and Cella's chocolate covered cherries are not good for you, so screw them. All I know is that as soon as we get one warm day in April, everyone's all "Is this global warming? This is global warming, isn't it?" and then when it gets chilly again in May everyone's all "Well, so much for global warming. What a crock." It's more complicated than that, people. Is there empirical evidence that global warming is a legitimate phenomenon, with causes that can be controlled by human behavior? Well, yes, but not on this blog, and face it, that's really as much as you're willing to search right now, isn't it?
Winner: Lasagna
Manicotti vs. Preserving the wetlands
My dad calls manicotti "sewer pipes." And you thought vermicelli was unappetizing.
Did you know that watering your lawn does not count as preserving the wetlands? This tidbit brought to you by the Preserve the Wetlands in Actual Ways Instead of Just Watering Your Lawn Association.
Winner: Preserving the wetlands
Use your noodle! Don't pollutle!
I'm in the self-service fruit of the month club. It takes a little extra work than the kind you sign up for through Harry and David's or whatever, but it's cheaper, there's no contractual obligation, and you don't get stuck with a month's worth of something ridiculous, like limes.
Here's how it works: When you go to the grocery store, buy fruit. Try to change it up every month. That's it.
You don't have to be a fanatic about it. I tend not to run out on the first of the month with visions of plums dancing in my head; instead, I'll gradually shift over from one fruit to the next. If it's a particularly good fruit, like cherries, and they stay in season and don't skyrocket in price, unlike cherries, I'll go longer than a month if I can. Flexibility is a real selling point in the self-service fruit of the month club.
Some people measure their year by sports; to them, fall is when all the baseball teams I like stop playing and all the football teams I like start sucking right off the bat. Other people, especially elementary school teachers, measure their year by holidays. Aaron's doing this right now. He knows it's Mommy's birthday, then Halloween, then Thanks-for-giving, then Christmas, and then his birthday. (He's really excited about his birthday.) Unfortunately, in his head, these are all occurring in the next two weeks. I'm expecting a significant amount of righteous toddler indignation right around October 20 or so. These are fine methods, but they lack edibility.
I measure my year thusly:
January - Oranges. For whatever reason, the oranges in the grocery store look pale and lifeless until some point in January, usually January 9th and about 11:24 AM. Then they turn day-glo orange and expand to twice their normal diameters and that's good orange eatin'. Right now, the thought of eating an orange fills me with distaste, ennui, and a little sleepiness, but come January, and I'm ready to sign up for Navel Academy. Sorry.
February - Tangerines. While others are shopping for their valentines and chasing groundhogs and revering presidents and just generally wishing that February would be over already, I find myself thinking of crated fruit. I've gotten my first dried-out, mealy orange and I'm ready for something new. Preferably something I can peel with my fingernails. And not a banana. So I pick up a crate, wondering if we'll eat them all before they go bad. Then I pick up another crate, and then one more. And then they go bad.
March - Pears. It's time to move away from citrus, because starting in March, it's nothing but heartbreak. In fact, March is a dismal time of year for fruit. It's like the good fruits are observing Lent and giving up their own existence. Except Easter doesn't arrive until late May. Pears are pretty much the same any time of year, so I turn to them when my options are limited. So March comes in like "Hey! A pear!" and goes out like, "Huh. A pear."
April - Green Grapes. How could it be April already and still no cherries? How could it be April already and still snowing? How could it be April already and school is still going, there have been no work-free holidays since New Years, TV shows are all in reruns, and all is bleakness and despair? Guess I'll eat a few grapes. That didn't help.
May - Rainier Cherries. I have an annual ritual. Every year I notice that Rainier cherries are cheaper than Bing Cherries. I do a double take. I think, will I be eating mostly Rainier cherries instead of my old favorite, the Bing? I wonder how that might impact my life, my marriage, my career. Then, a week later, Rainier cherries get more expensive, Bing cherries get less expensive, and I forget about the whole thing. Every year.
June - Bing Cherries. Is there anything better than a bing cherry? For your sake, I hope you're shaking your head right now. Shake it! There are so many things to love about June. Or so I'm told, I'm too busy gorging myself on Bings to notice.
July - Peaches. Late July, the cherries disappear from the shelves, but rather than wear black all month and weep and rend my garments and gnash my teeth, I eat a bunch of peaches. Did you know that cherries and peaches belong to the same family as almonds and cyanide? It only makes sense that four delicious tastes would all have to be related. Hey kids! Don't really eat cyanide. It may be really ultra-delectable, but it's also pretty poisonous. Yes scrumptious cyanide is a mouth-watering and deadly food best left uneaten.
August - Nectarines. By late August, I've usually eaten a mealy peach, and that's downright heart-breaking. So I switch to nectarines. Surely this nearly-identical fruit won't suffer the same fate! Surely!
September - Honey Crisp Apples. A good Honey Crisp tastes like someone replaced your apple's juice with sparkling apple cider. It's the champagne of apples, except it's good. Like Bing cherries, Honey Crisps don't last very long in the grocery store, so enjoy them while you can. Here's a recipe I like with Honey Crisps. Take one Honey Crisp, and three Nutter Butter cookies. First, eat the Honey Crisp. Then eat the cookies. If you're still hungry, have another cookie. This is a great recipe for parties.
October - Granny Smith/Harrelson apples. By now, I've given up on the pretense of eating fresh fruit, and my fruit purchases are used for cooking into dessert. An October without apple crisp is like a cryptic crossword with out an anagram -- pointless.
November - Cella's. By now I've given up on the pretense of buying fruit at all, and I'm just eating desserts. Technically, Cella's have a cherry inside, but it's really less the kind of cherry they grow on trees and more the kind of cherry they create in a lab out of sugar and bits of angels. Sure, Christmas items have been on the shelves since late August, but the Cella's tend not to make their appearance until the day after Halloween, when Christmas is practically over.
December - Enormous Red Delicious Apples. If you want big red delicious apples, you can find them pretty much any time of year. If you want mutant apples so big that two or three of them overwhelm your crisper drawer, you have to wait until December. These juicy monstrosities have been a part of stocking-stuffing tradition in my family for years, so I always have to pick a couple up. Plus, the Christmas stocking I made for Aaron is large enough to hold most of a Buick, so these gigantic mega-apples help take up some of the space.
Oh, and in case you're wondering who would win in a fight, it's Cella's.
Factoids about programs my son likes to watch division:
The Wonderpets vs. Dora the Explorer
The Wonderpets
Synopsis: A guinea pig, turtle, and duckling learn the value of teamwork as they rescue baby animals stuck in some kind of foliage.
My favorite episode: Ming-ming the duckling decides that teamwork is for suckers and goes alone to rescue a squirrel from a tree, only to become trapped in the tree herself. The rest of the team convinces her that teamwork is the way to go. She never questions them again.
The episode I'm sick of: Ollie the Bunny, convinced that teamwork is for suckers, joins the team and goes alone to rescue a skunk from a bush, only to be sprayed and humiliated. The rest of the team convinces him that teamwork would have been a better approach. He is never heard from again.
Catchphrase: This is sewious! (Ming-ming)
What Aaron has learned from watching it: Plants will destroy you and everything you love; rescuing babies is awesome; the Wonderpets theme song in its entirety.
Dora the Explorer
Synopsis: Dora and her monkey familiar are sent through dangerous terrain, where a talking map shows them three points of interest, a talking fox steals an item from a talking backpack, and they sing peaens of triumph when they arrive at their goal. Also, sometimes they collect talking stars that speak only Spanish.
My favorite episode: In order to participate in the silliest riddle contest, Dora and Boots must cross a bridge controlled by an angry troll, pass through a door that tells knock-knock jokes, and climb the tall mountain. They ride a burro. The answer to the silliest riddle is (spoiler!): everybody.
The episode I'm sick of: Dora receives a star pocket, which allows her to catch stars. She and Boots journey to the tall mountain to bring a baby star back to the sky. On the way, she exploits the other stars she has nabbed, once in order to jump over a bunch of sharks. The baby star is returned. The other stars are sold for weapons-grade plutonium.
Catchphrase: I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the MAAAAAAAAAAAAAP. (The Map)
What Aaron has learned from watching it: Who the map is; to be fearful of a ravenous backpack; how to tell two-thirds of a knock-knock joke.
Winner: The Wonderpets
Go, Diego, Go vs. The BackYardigans
Go, Diego Go
Synopsis: Dora's adrenaline-laden cousin Diego and his jaguar familiar use a talking camera and a macho, shape-shifting backpack to return frightened baby animals to their parents, often against incredible odds. His older sister Alicia assists by surfing the web.
My favorite episode: The one with the baby pygmy marmoset. A baby pygmy marmoset! It's like the size of hamster, but it's a monkey! I think it was about to be buried in an earthquake.
The episode I'm sick of: Diego rescues a baby chinchilla from an avalanche. He commands a family of cacti to double in size in order to form a barricade against attacking pumas. He then lauds the chinchilla's ability to hop (in Spanish) in a particularly nefarious earworm. I have seen this episode approximately 400 times, and I still have no idea what the Spanish word for hop is. Grinka? Blenga? Trinket? No idea.
Catchphrase: Yoooooooooooooooooooooo!!!! (Rescue pack, introducing himself)
What Aaron has learned from watching it: Rescuing baby animals is hella sweet; boy's backpacks are about 100 times cooler than girl's backpacks, pidgin Spanish.
The BackYardigans
Synopsis: A bunch of CGI animals gather in someone's backyard, which slowly metamorphosizes into a historical venue such as ancient Egypt, the Old West, or Robot Apacolypse. They sing about their adventures in a manner completely incongruous to their surroundings. They are shaken completely out of their fantasy world by one of the creatures aching hunger.
My favorite episode: Tasha the hippo is a paleolithic tribal chief, who invites her Backyard buddies to the top of her mountain for the opportunity to howl at the moon. They comply with her request. Along the way they invent various tools and struggle with finding appropriate names for them. They sing the hokey-pokey.
The episode I'm sick of: Pablo the Penguin wants to go surfing but Austin the Kangaroo lifeguard won't let him until he learns three awesome surfing moves. He does. Tasha the hippo is not featured. The animals sing fusion jazz.
Catchphrase: Buy BackYardigan products if you want to be cool! (Uniqua the, um, something)
What Aaron has learned from watching it: The hokey-pokey; three awesome surfing moves; the role of polka in the Wild, Wild, West; for some people, the hippo isn't always the center of attention.
Winner: Go, Diego, Go
Mad Men vs. Cheaters
Just kidding, I don't let Aaron watch either of these shows. Still, don't forget to watch Mad Men on AMC!
Winner: Mad Men
Debating the worth of the letter C edition:
Chair vs. Hair Chair How can a chair win, or even participate in a fight? Perhaps a story, or "parable" could explain it better. My dad, it turns out, had a funny story about a chair when he was growing up. I guess there was a chair in the kitchen that was beyond fixing. The chair was on its last legs, so to speak, and pushed off to the side, maybe to be used as a plant stand or something. Except my dad didn’t know it was broken. So he joined the family for dinner one night, and pulled up that rickety old chair and took a seat, while my uncles looked on in amusement… and nothing happened. He helped himself to some food and started eating. About halfway through dinner, Dad got a tickle in his nose. He threw back his head, saying, "Ah, ahh, ahhh-CHOO!" And he disappeared. The chair had disintegrated underneath him, and he was lying flat on the floor. I hear that my uncle laughed so hard that peas came out his nose. So you see, it is possible for a chair to defeat an enemy in a fight. In this parable, my dad represented a challenger, the chair played the part of a chair, and the peas represented the budget deficit erupting out of the nose of American politics pushed by the guffaws of mishandled tax dollars. Hair I have an amusing parable about hair, too. One day, all my hair started falling out. Now I am bald. Oh, did I say amusing? I meant infuriating. This parable means hair is stupid. Winner: Chair Covert vs. Overt Covert "In this corner, we have Covert, weighing in at… hey, where the hell did Covert go?" I think being a covert agent sounds much cooler than being a secret agent. To me, secret implies schoolgirls giggling about crushes in whispered tones, and covert implies ninjas hiding under the cover of darkness, using any environment as easy camouflage. I imagine that most covert/secret agents fall somewhere between the two definitions, perhaps hiding in the shadows from dreamy Jeremy Steele from homeroom and giggling occasionally. Overt Here’s a situation where one letter leads a word to mean it’s opposite. An overt agent reads the spy manual on the subway. An overt agent orders his martini "shaken, not stirred, that’s the way agents like me like to get drunk." An overt agent lights off sparklers in the darkness and sends an endless stream of love notes to Jeremy that say, "I like you. Do you like me? Y/N Please destroy this message." Unless we’re talking about a fashion show (we’re not—we’re talking about a fight), overt is missing the element of surprise, and loses easily. Winner: Covert Swatch vs. Swath Swatch A swatch is a tiny chunk of cut fabric. Swath A swath is a wide, expansive hunk of something. They say size is relative, so I’m just going to say that both words mean the same thing and say it’s a draw. Winner: Draw Pic vs. Pi Pic Some analysts believe that by the year 2060, an international currency will be created for internet commerce. This currency will be called the pic (pix plural), and consist of a naked picture of an attractive woman. Users will log in to, say, Orbitz, where a trip from O’Hare to Jamaica will cost approximately 20 pix. O’Hare to Los Angeles will be about 15 pix. For a single pic, you could go from O’Hare to St. Louis (if it’s a pic of Paris Hilton, East St. Louis). But will its monetary worth in the future foretell its pugilistic worth on the battleground? And more importantly, is that a ridiculous question or what? Pi Pi is irrational, constant, and transcendental. That doesn’t sound like the description of a mathematical concept as much as a description of a trickster god. Pi’s got something for everyone, both in the sense that it is an appealing number and in the sense that it is long enough that somewhere within it is numeric code that spells out "Monkeys with typewriters try typing this!" It is an awesome number if you like circles, Greek alphabets, infinity, and puns involving baked goods. Pi is used for a number of important equations. You can determine a circle’s circumference by multiplying its diameter by pi. You can determine the area of a circle by determining why pie are square. You can determine how geeky someone is by finding out how many digits of pi they have memorized. People have known about pi for centuries. According to Wikipedia, in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, Paul goes on for six verses getting out to the 42,651 digit of pi (although in Paul’s letter to the Robotniks, he claims that pi is exactly 3). The long and short of it is that if you’ve got a challenger who is irrational, constant, and transcendental, you’re in a heap of trouble. Winner: Pi Clover vs. Lover Clover For years, the humble clover was the only actual lucky charm in a bowl of Lucky Charms. Yellow moons aren’t lucky. Orange stars aren’t lucky unless they’re shooting, and there was clearly no evidence of that. Blue diamonds are usually considered cursed more often than lucky. And pink hearts, even if they’ve been ripped out of rabbits’ chests, aren’t considered the lucky body part. Imagine you’re a leprechaun, hoarding a box of cereal from a bunch of crafty and determined kids and it only contains one stupid charm. As a leprechaun, you’re a failure! Frankly, I can’t figure out what the hell Lucky is doing with that other crap anyway. Heck, even the clover’s not that great. There’s an old saying that goes "Clovers are for chumps." (Although, for the sake of this battle, it could be argued that the sentence is still true without either of the C’s.) Maybe there’s something I’m overlooking. Something I’ve overlooked before. Lover Ooh la la! There’s more to a lover than just being intimate. There’s something risqué, some quality that makes lovers burn with a passion that is almost dangerous. And I know what I’m talking about, as a bona fide lover of video games. The world’s most famous lovers, Romeo Montague and Angelina Jolie, prove that love is stronger than war or sanity, so it’s probably also stronger than some dumb plants. Winner: Lover Not featured today: Occur vs. Our (Winner: Our) Cloud vs. Loud (Winner: Cloud) Crumble vs. Rumble (Winner: Rumble) Batch vs. Bath (Winner: Bath) Verdict: C can stay, but it has to split carries with K.
Semordnilap edition
Rats v. Star When we moved to our first apartment in Chicago, one of the rules was that everything needed to go in through the back door, so we all pulled into the alley to unload. So of course, the first welcome to Chicago that my family got was a sign warning all who neared it to watch out for rats. And not cute rats like Mrs. Frisby or Chuck E. Cheese. The picture displayed a vicious looking beady-eyed beast with teeth that could bite through six inches of solid steel. Every neighborhood feature became a setting for a horrible rat invasion. The playground, the L tracks, the Catholic church ("Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…aaaaiiigggghh!). My mother audibly gasped. One look at that thing and she knew I was a goner. I couldn't help but think back to the catacombs hidden under the canals of Venice, posing little threat to Indiana Jones, but freaking the hell out of his dad. My new backyard. If the rats are allowed to win this one, then the rats have already won. Now, in this bout, I wasn't sure if this should be a Polaris-type star or a Paris Hilton-type star. Would I enjoy seeing thousands of plague-ridden Chicago rats burning in the flames of a white-hot sun, or would I enjoy seeing the cast of Georgia Rules reduced to little more than rodent kibble? There's a certain poetry to both, I'll admit, but there's palindromic precedent that says that "Rats live on no evil star" and to me that translates to Hollywood star, specifically: "Dennis Hopper is a vermin-killing machine." Winner: Star Drawer v. Reward A drawer does not inspire a lot of confidence as a brawler. Certainly it could beat a shelf, and maybe on a good night a cupboard, but a regular drawer is not going to do well against much else. That’s why the answer is to send forth the world’s mightiest drawer: the underwear drawer. I have always hidden stuff in my underwear drawer: birthday presents, love letters, self-help books, applique, the superhero cowl, all kinds of stuff. But Cherney, you say, didn’t you just spoil your secret? Well, yes, but I’m not going to worry about it, because who’s going to go digging through my underwear drawer? No one who knows what’s good for ‘em, that’s who. Plus, if anyone tries it, I’ll just go to my backup plan… the diaper pail. What is the difference between an award and a reward? If you rustle up a no-good varmint with yer lasso, you get a $1000 reward. If you rustle up a no-good electrical box with yer lasso and you kick th’ bucket, you get a Darwin award. I think the difference here is that when the deputy demands his reward back, it could be repaid, but once you get an award, it’s yours for life. Yeah, that makes sense. But if you don’t end up having to give it back, a reward can be pretty nice. Also, rewards beat drawers (even underwear drawers), so there’s that, too. Winner Reward Dog v. God There’s a reason that dog is man’s best friend. Puppies are adorable, really, really adorable. People have been shown to become 35% happier just from hearing a voice emit the word puppy. Dogs do what people do, not necessarily because they like it, but because they like people. That’s why they go along on a duck hunt, that’s why they catch frisbees, that’s why they bring barrels of whiskey up mountainsides. They just love to make people happy. Dogs can protect you from intruders and still play with your kids. It’s no wonder that people buy their dogs sweaters, frozen desserts, spa weekends, and strollers. Dogs are awesome. Dogs suck, and people are stressed out and disgusted by them, just like they always have been since the beginning of time. Whoa, well played, God! Winner: God Tops v Spot Tops spin. But then they stop. Wheeeee. Spot is, of course, the beloved mascot and video game champion of 7Up, circa 1992. Every kid wanted to be Spot, what with his cool shades, hip ‘tude, and pots of refreshing 7Up stored in his tub. In his video game, Cool Spot, Spot repeatedly showed the many virtues of the Uncola as well as teaching players a lesson about the good feeling you get when you drink it. I think he also defeats a dragon between nips of his carbonated ambrosia. Or maybe that was the Noid. Or possibly Mack Tonight. Wow, we had lame video game avatars back then. Anyway, Spot is also a popular name for a dog, so this fight was pretty much determined by the last one. Winner: Tops
Mother's day edition Mama Cass vs. Emily's Mom Mama Cass was such a driving force in The Mamas and the Papas that it was all they could do not to change their name to Mama and the Mamas and the Papas. Best known for her songs California Dreamin' and Dream a Little Dream, Cass was often characterized as a "dreamer" or as someone who "dreams about dreaming dreams". Rumor has it that Mama Cass choked to death on a ham sandwich, but this is not true: she actually died of heart failure when her ham sandwich came to life and tried to choke her to death. Subsequently, she will not be helping us move this month, although if we're still unpacking, we may listen to Monday, Monday for inspiration. Emily's mom, also known as Katie, has been training to be a mom since practically age 3 and is so well prepared that she can share a tupperware cup full of Cheerios with Aaron and still have enough for her own daughter. This is something I would never have thought to do. If the Swiss Army ever invented a mom's purse, they'd have to base it after my sister's, because she always seems to have just the right thing that Aaron needs at any given moment. And also Emily. Katie is helping us move, which means she gets first strike capability in the fight. Also, she sold us her car for a steal, which means she gets a +2 rampage and her choice of familiars which doesn't really matter because she's pretty much won this one. Winner: Emily's mom The Museum of Modern Art vs. Jenna's Mom MOMA holds over 150,000 pieces of art (not counting film stills) and is considered my many to be the premiere museum for artwork from the last 150 years. This may be due to their recent remodel and clever marketing campaign: "Yo MOMA so big, she's got 630,000 feet of new or redesigned space." MOMA is home to Van Gogh's Starry Night and Warhol's Campbell Soup Cans. I will leave the discovery of the other 149,998 pieces as an exercise for the reader. MOMA is not helping us move. Apparently they need to devote all their manpower to the 50 Years of Helvetica Exhibit. Hevetica? Really? Jenna's mom Becky has allowed me to stay at her house while checking out houses in Minnesota waaay more that anyone should have to put up with me. She holds over 150,000 toys and Things To Do including Aaron's Rocking Horse, and Aaron's Laptop computer. She has been so generous with us that I should probably have a PBS style banner on this blog that says "Brought to you in part by Becky and Ron." They are not only helping us move, they're letting us stay at their place until we can move into our house. So her advantage for the fight is that she gets to pick any five opponents and she automatically defeats them. Winner: Jenna's Mom The Mummy vs. Aaron's Mom So in Ancient Egypt, when you die, someone pulls out your organs, liquifies and removes your brain, and wraps you in gauze. And you're supposed to be a threat? Who exactly is the mummy supposed to beat? Dracula? No. Batman? No. Jigglypuff? Doubtful. The real threat isn't the mummy itself, but the mummy's curse. How are you going to beat a curse? If you defile a mummy and the auto-curse put into place is that horrible misfortunes will follow everywhere you go, that's a pretty good challenge. Of course, in a fight that means that if the challenger just leaves the mummy alone, the curse will go to the fight promoters who get increasingly irritated that the challenger is leaving the mummy alone. Then they're attacked by scarab beetles or something. Still, curses are no matter for Jenna, who took the bus to and from day care with a screaming baby for well over a year. In fact, having to finish a dissertation and pack one's belongings into countless boxes in the middle of Chicago's 17 year Angry Cicada Revenge season sounds about as bad as a curse can be. Jenna still makes her family her first priority, though, and has been understanding while I'm losing my mind and Aaron's throwing a fit. Will she be helping us move? She's been doing it for months, so I don't see why not. Winner Aaron's Mom Mother Theresa vs. My Mom Everyone talks about all the good things that Mother Theresa did, but no one ever mentions the six years she spent touring with Ozzie Osborne and biting the heads off of bats. Ok, that’s not true. I pretty much can’t dig up any dirt on Mother Theresa, except that she’s not helping me move. Well that, and according to Wikipedia, she had a torrid love affair with Evil Dr. Robotnik. My mom’s helping me move. Also, she’s a great mom and spent most of last week preventing me from going crazy. But is that enough to defeat Mother Theresa? Yes. Yes it is. Winner: My mom Happy Mother's Day, fight-winning moms!