The Firefly
by Ogden Nash
The firefly's flame Is something for which science has no name
I can think of nothing eerier
Than flying around with an unidentified glow on a
person's posteerier.
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The American poet Frederick Ogden Nash was born at Rye, New York on this day in 1902. After family finances prevented him from finishing even a year at Harvard, he struggled as a school teacher (a class of 14-year-olds caused too much stress), bond broker (he sold but one bond in 18 months, and…
We have another round of cephalopodic loveliness. Send me more!
Chris Clarke contemplates the word "sepia".
Why chiropractors shouldn't mess around with invertebrates.
Kevin submits the ubiquitous octopus vs. shark movie.
How can something so cute be angry? (Oh, man, I hear that one all…
Bora, discussing whether elephants run, tells a joke:
Two elephants are sitting on a tree. A third elephant flies by. The first elephant turns to the second elephant and says: "Hmmm, I bet her nest is close by"
Which reminds me of the classic question: Why do elephants paint their nails red?
Click…
This is not a manual or even a how-to blog post, but rather, what I hope to be a few helpful suggestions that may or may not have already occurred to you. I was motivated to write this because of a series of recent events in which it became obvious that a lot of people, myself included in certain…
The Turtle
by Ogden Nash
The turtle lives 'twixt plated decks
That practically conceal its sex.
I think it clever of the turtle
In such a fix to be so fertile.