Thursday, May 06, 2004
(12:25 PM) | Anonymous:
Let It Be Known:
1. When you sit across from me on the bus and you see that I’m reading, I do not want you to ask me, “What’re you reading?” Do you think that I look like I want to talk? If you MUST ask me what I’m reading, then do not THEN say, “Oh. What’s it about?” The fact that I smile and act friendly means only that I like you in the general way that I like all people and that I’m eager to show you respect. By no means does that also mean that I’m dying at this particular moment, nose in book, to listen enrapt as you hold forth about the intricacies of the city’s street-sweeping travesty.2. The Pickle censors.
3. The editor of The Pickle has a miserly sense of humor.
4. There is a certain amount of risk involved in executing a practical joke. The friend you’re trying to amuse may only grumpily denounce your inspired bestowment of creative playfulness.
5. I would like to share a poem with you, a poem which was part of a series of four delightful posts that I magnanimously posted under the editor’s name (who had carelessly left his Blogger account open) at The Pickle and that were only to be crankily deleted by the editor:
Gull
What? Don’t look at me. Oh, shy.
Is the beauty in me make you cry.
I woder why.
A woden foot.
Is the toe of my heart.
6. This post may illuminate the question of whether The Weblog is a scholarly site.
