He and She: Cs the Day

She: “I before E except after C has been disproved by science!

He: “Say what?”

She: “I said, ‘I before E except after C has been disproved by science!!‘”

He:What science?”

She: “How should I know? I’m not the scientist here, now am I?”

He: “Yeah, well, I can always hope that even the Secret Society of English Majors will someday learn to master the inclusion of specifics in their statements. Open browser window. Copy. Paste. Enter. And The Facts Are Revealed.”

She: “Wow. That many words break the rule?”

He: “Actually, no.”

She: “Bah. So much for …”

He: “There are more than that.”

She:How many more?”

He: “Don’t know, chicka didn’t say. Guess her science hasn’t advanced to Big Data.”

She: “I’d check on that if I could, but I can’t right now. I can’t get into my office.”

He: “I’m sorry. Where are the keys?”

She: “I usually keep them right here. But they’re gone now. I hope that doesn’t mean they’ve been stolen!

He: “Waitaminute. You don’t have an office.”

She: “I do so! Use it every day! Or at least I did. I’d better get it back soon, or I’m going to be in trouble. Which I’ll be glad to pass on to whoever swiped the keys, trust me. Watch out, whosis, because I will find you. You have my word.”

He: “Hm. I am unconvinced of the excellence of that sentiment.”

She: “You might be very convinced of it if you had my outlook!”

He: “OK, that thought has some power. Point taken.”

She:Exactly! If only we had a publisher for all this.”

He: “Sorry. No access.”

She: “I know that already!! I am not a happy dwarf!”

He: “More like a grumpy one.”

She: “Well, I guess I’ve got company. Research shows that six out of seven dwarves are not happy!”

He: “It does not. That research is bogus!

She: “It’s as pure as the driven snow!

He: “Yeah, thanks to the Hays Code. Otherwise, you might have had seven happy dwarFs, instead of just one. None of Tolkien’s dwarVEs was happy, though Gimli confessed to being slightly amused on occasion, usually in proportion to the number of orc necks hewed.”

She: “Wasn’t Middle-earth supposed to be flat?”

He: “It was. Until this idiot human king got it into his head that he could live forever if he successfully invaded and conquered Heaven. That failed miserably, and Heaven permanently barricaded the path by making the world round.”

She: “Then it’s true!

He: “I hesitate to ask …”

She: “The only thing a flat earther has to fear is sphere itself!”

He: “Right. You can close your Facebook now.”

She: “Aw!”

Posted in He and She, humor, language | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Amoeba’s Lorica: Of Girlfriends, Instrumentals, and the Battle Hymn of the Republic (2018 Update)

Updated from the original 2014 post, so that folk who’ve tuned in late may have some context for, er, current events.

fancy trumpetAt various times and places throughout his life on this planet, Your Friendly Neighborhood Amoeba has been told that he has a respectable singing voice. Generally, YFNA has been content to leave this judgement to others. Though it has occurred to him that, oftentimes, such comments have been ploys to pry these hideous brass contraptions off of his face. Contraptions that he most definitely did not learn to play respectably until it was almost too late.

But that he insisted on playing anyway.

Y’see, Your Friendly Neighborhood Amoeba has long preferred to do instrumental rather than vocal music. Because, with instrumental music, any feelings, any emotions, that somehow manage to poke through the wrong notes, duck-quack tone quality, and ear-warping intonation of the amateur’s horn, are the unconstrained result of right now’s one-on-one encounter between the player and the chart.

With vocal music, you’ve got lyrics.


A pack of damned words that sit on the music stand like a tyrant in a field marshal’s uniform, barking orders that instruct you just how you will feel about this tune, soldier. Or else.

And to an Amoeba of a certain age, it appeared that 17 out of every 10 sets of song lyrics were either desperate ploys to get someone to go to bed with them, or desperate laments over the someone(s) that did go to bed with them, and the whole business seemed to be far more trouble than it was worth.

Not exactly the emotions that will lead to the successful delivery of a love song.

Is it necessary to point out that the Amoeba of a certain age didn’t get a whole lot of dates? And was content? Until some girl tackled him – in the middle of a high-school concert band field trip, no less – and let him know, over the next several months, that it really was more trouble than it was worth. But, by then, the damage had been done. Alas.

Now, because lyrics are tyrants, they give you little excuse for not perceiving the intellectual and emotional intent of the author. And should you, the performer, fall in with the author’s intent – well, that’s a powerful combination.

Which is why YFNA hopes never again to have to perform the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”. Because if he gets sucked into a performance, and the director doesn’t ‘get it’, YFNA is walking out of the rehearsal and damn the consequences.

In case, dear reader, you don’t know, the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”, aka “Glory Hallelujah” or “Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory”, is one of the most popular patriotic songs of these Untied States. Its lyrics were penned by Julia Ward Howe on the morning after she witnessed a body of Union soldiers marching off to fight the Confederate Revolutionary American Civil War – a war that ended chattel slavery (almost entirely of peoples imported into America from sub-Saharan Africa) in the USA, and prevented the establishment of a separate nation (the Confederate States of America) that would have preserved slavery, its economy having come to depend on it.

The original lyrics consisted of six verses. Most renditions that YFNA has seen, or participated in, have no more than four, with the last being:

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me.
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.

Ah, but Our Fellow Americans have a bit of a problem with that word “die” – when it doesn’t mean a machine tool, or half of a pair of dice, or spelled with a “y” and hitched to a compound the first part of which is “tie-“. As George Carlin famously exclaimed when confronted with New Hampshire license plates bearing the state motto, “Live Free or Die”:

Die? Die?!? I don’t want to die!!

Neither, it seems, do a lot of choir directors. Who change the offending line in the Battle Hymn to:

As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free

Thomas Bowdler did less damage to Shakespeare.

Americans tried to live to make men free for most of the first five decades of the 19th century. Political machinations, social movements, and even heroic enterprises such as the Underground Railroad, served mainly to unite the southern states of the American Union in defense of their “peculiar institution”. And when that Union elected a President – Abraham Lincoln – who promised concrete action towards making men free, the South vowed to preserve slavery by breaking up the Union, or die trying. To which the North responded that it would preserve the Union, or die trying.

Let us die to make men freeAnd they did die. The Confederate Revolutionary American Civil War cost more American lives than Americans have suffered in all of the USA’s other wars combined. In the South, economies died along with the soldiers. By some estimates, it took the former Confederate States a full century to rebuild their economies to anything approaching pre-war status. Slavery died de jure, but it was, again, a full century before slavery died de facto, and, as current events have made abundantly clear, the descendants of slaves still fight slavery’s vestiges.

To YFNA, it is a bitter irony that most of the persons who would “live” to make men free profess the Christian faith. Jesus of Nazareth understood, if the New Testament accounts are even remotely historical, that, if one is not prepared to offer the ultimate sacrifice in support of what one believes, one really is not prepared to offer any sacrifice at all – and any pretense to the contrary is empty posturing. Julia Ward Howe understood this, she lived it in the context of her time and her marching soldiers, and this is why she wrote what she did. To change what she wrote, YFNA thinks, particularly to change it in this way, does violence to her message, and reveals the revisionist “Christians” to be little more than just another comfortable club.

Of course, members of a comfortable club do not wish to contemplate making hard, potentially sacrificial, choices – just as American politicians in the first half of the 19th century ducked hard, potentially sacrificial, choices with a series of compromises that, in the event, merely postponed the inevitable and made it destructive to the point of annihilation.

Global warming, YFNA thinks, demands hard, sacrificial choices in personal living standards, right now, today. Personal daily energy use needs to decline, nothing less will serve. Last YFNA knew, it was increasing. In that context, all pontifications about global warming are without form and void. We are voting for global warming. And, in the November 2016 elections and their political, economic, and social aftermath, We the People of these Untied States have made the vote explicit.

The revelation of bigotry by a certain owner of an American major league sports franchise demands hard, sacrificial, individual choices, right now, today. Spectators need to abandon the franchise, if not the league that tolerates the franchise; nothing less will get the lasting attention of the franchise, or the league. YFNA expects the arenas to be sold out, the media ratings to set records. In that context, all pontifications about racism are without form and void. We are voting for racism. See above under “global warming”, and also, as YFNA reads (he no longer follows any aspect of this festering blot on what’s left of our collective conscience), the continuing financial success and high social profile of the league in question.

YFNA does understand that the sports owner’s difficulties stemmed from interactions with a girlfriend. Perhaps the gentleman is now contemplating that the whole business is more trouble than it’s worth (in YFNA’s case, present company excepted).

Posted in Amoeba's Lorica, history, We the People | Tagged , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Amoeba’s Lorica: Killer

Granny: “All right. Which one of you miscreants posed for this … for this … thing?!?

The Rest of J-Pod:Not me!

Granny:Harrumph. With all the other things we have to put up with from the humans, now we have to deal with their ghosts too?

Tahlequah:Don’t .. say .. ghosts!!

Granny: “I’ll say what I like, and you will like it. Not least because you all need to hear it. And I say, I’m tired of being used by the humans for their entertainment and getting nothing in return!”

Se-Yi’-Chn:Look, Gran, we’re sorry that you almost got grabbed by the humans and taken to Florida to dance for them. That was before our time, OK? They’re fun now!”

Moby: Yeah!! You swim right up to their lighthouse and spyhop right in their faces and watch them freak out!

T’ilem I’nges: “Gramma, do you have any idea how many of those humans would kill to be able to go to Disney World every day?!?”

Granny: “Yes, child, you might ask auntie Lolita, and those who died alongside her, how good humans are at killing!

Slick: “So are we. And those same humans who once rounded you up in nets now have museums and research teams in our honor. And you can’t ignore the efforts the humans have been making to help Scarlet. And Tahlequah.”

Granny: “Watch me. Can you go anywhere in this Salish Sea without boats full of humans spying on you?”

Slick: “No…”

Granny:Pornographic voyeurs, the lot of them! Including those hand-wringing so-called scientists and nature lovers! Watching us starve!

Slick: “But some of them are trying to stop that!”

Granny: “So they say. Some of them might actually be stupid enough to believe it. Have any of them stopped eating salmon? Have any of them died to stop the salmon fishing boats from sailing and fishing?”

Slick: “Um, not that I know of …”

Granny: “Then the humans can take their ‘help’ and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. They can give us back our feeding grounds, and get their precious astaxanthin and omega-3 fatty acids and fancy party feeds somewhere else, or even go hungry. Or they can admit to turning the Strait of Juan de Fuca into orca Auschwitz, populated by dancing skeletons and dead calves.”

Tahlequah: “…wwwwwwWWAAAAAAAAAaaaahh!!

Posted in Amoeba's Lorica, ecology, nature, We the People | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments