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What Says The Good Doctor?

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Author Topic: What Says The Good Doctor?  (Read 482 times)
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« on: March 18, 2008, 08:56:00 pm »

I wonder sometimes, perhaps because I'm greying, what great literary works there were, which had something to say about cities in need of change. I thought about the many biblical references to cities where God demanded change, sent messengers and judged them. God probably hasn't sent me to this town to save it's ass since I got plenty to do saving my own, so a biblical work won't suffice in a brave new world of man's own doing where God has stopped judging, right?

So I ponder modern times and the workings of its press. Big ironed machinery, electostatically controlled environmentals and cogs. I get confused by the double, squeak then cannot make heads or tails of IT.

As I wander back pandering thusly it occurs to me as a fable of old, a random house book. I owe it to the flooded basement, this revelation, having to box up the goods of yesteryear and move them to higher ground. I held on to this book as most everything else went to the trash or the attic to collect dust once again.

The great literary work was in my hands. The opening and closing pages sum it all up in kinder confidence through these words, as they come into folk us from a children's tome, if the CITY, is a ZOO.

"It's a pretty good zoo,"
Said young Gerald McGrew,
"And the fellow who runs it
Seems proud of it, too."

"But if I ran the zoo,"
Said young Gerald McGrew,
"I'd make a few changes.
That's just what I'd do...".


That's what I'd do,"
Said young Gerald McGrew.
"I'd make a few changes
If I ran the zoo."

By Dr. Seuss

Would anyone care to comment about this town's zoo and some of the guts in that <SNIP> above the, "Yes...? I get the feeling" Donald might like this style of penned man shoot-from-the-hip, EH? A change of scenery if nothing else, as was once spoken to little ears for they listen still and they are dear.
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The Older I get The less I know for sure

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« Reply #1 on: March 18, 2008, 09:21:28 pm »

Well said... Grin
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« Reply #2 on: March 22, 2008, 03:16:47 am »

Encouraging words Don, strong silent type-2 EH? Sorry this reply took so long, we must always be careful with the encourageable, NO? In this exercise, not unlike young Gerald McGrew who was heralding odd creatures unto his zoo, I went to Hamilton's specthread to pay my respects with others, wailing over the long-winded metrics of spraying some of Hamilton's public and private woodlots for Gypsy moth, caterpillars and eggs. It is there I was calm fronted by Jonny Velvet.

I left a second comment, harmonizing to Jonny's velvet chord. I then reread and herein restate, what McGrew's moldy mist might, dew in the wild wood's great.

"Most beasts are quite friendly, but still, in some lands
Some beasts are too dangerous to catch with bare hands.
For those that are ugly and vicious and mean
I'll build a Bad-Animal-Catching-Machine.
It's rather expensive to build such a kit,
But with it a hunter can never get bit." - The Good Doctor

So with all the information presented in the specthread by all the different contributors, for and against spraying, I stitched together my own lame attempt to amuse children and bemuse their adult readers at the same time,  in the good doctors' style, with this ridiculous redbook-like inspiratorial <clearing throat> diatribe!!.

In the town of Chum-Hummerville a Gypsy moth laid an egg
In this myth laid her egg on an old barn door peg
Then along came a farmer to do his daze work
He hung his torn jacket on the peg with a jerk
The _egg _ough the peg fell down into his pocket
The farmer did not notice it flew just like a rocket

But on its way down, egg spinning end spun
The shell of its case came completely undone
A red thread of silk and at the end of the thing
Was a worm, not an egg, dressed in silk and soft string
The worm yawned and winked at the sky and then slumped
Then he jumped and he stumped like his heart was all pumped
He leaped round the jacket where the torn fibers chumped
Then he spinned and he spun and he spit out some thread
He sewed up the holes with this thread as he sped
Then on to the next one two, until then would bee said,
He'd mend the whole coat, but now it was all red.

The farmer by now was out milking his pigs
Then later he pickled three pecks of raw figs
By the time he returned to the old barn door peg
Where the Gypsy Ma-Moth had first laid her egg
The Jacket he wore at the crack of the dawn
Which he'd hung there heed sworn, was now suddenly gown
Hung they're instead weird a red silky thing
And like the small worm's it was hemmed in with soft string.

Our farmer it seems did not like this one bit
He screamed to the sky "Whoo did this owl-foul knit!?
My coat is all fixed butt, that red's to darned snarry
It's silky and soft and I'll look like I'm to bloody marry!
Come out hear you scoundrel who darned my's worn cowt
Come out or I'll go get my Jersey Rex Horned Gowt
She'll ram you and buck you and make your hems blowt
Until you resume this hideous gloat that you wrote
That jacket you mended was all tattled and torn
Eyes liked it that way, all forfeit and forlorn."

Now the worm had jumped back to the pocket when finished
Its mission, it seams, have now been greatly diminished
What the farmer had said had gave him bad felt, SEW...
He pumped and he jumped and he lumped and he clumped
He ripped and he tore at that redcoat to restore
And when he was done the farmer declared,
"Yore a pest and this thing that you dared
Will not go unprunished!" as he stared and he glared

The farmer then plucked up some old tin can sprayers
And he sprayed on the worm with it layers and layers
Screaming "Dye ewe fowl bug, weave no need of your kindness
I'll fix mine owned coat, you really are quite known mindless!"

The worm grumbled and spluttered and eventually dyed
But one thing more happened before it went dead
Its head split wide open and out taped red thread
Miles and miles of incalculable length
It covered the farmer and strapped all his strength
Silky with soft strings he'd become in the end
All covered in redress like Christmas times friend.

The spray in May might fall mainly on its prey
But who can someday say, nay, none else got in ITS way?

All in favor of eradicating the planted silk worms and their Gypsy Mother Moth, say aye.

All Opposed and to a call for yolks to materialize Genuine HamSpun Gypsy Silk Fabric, within a new line of "MacBrandished Cloaks by Revolution Wear Org" say nay; Then promptly begin the many-hands-free-in-Hamilton collection campaign. I'd suggest calling the newly developed fiber "Hamstring" though, unless you aren't truly serious about ITS being so. This spinner could be a winner.

Like the worm, I suSpec this thread is near dead too. Perhaps we'll move onward toward Dofasco ArecelorMittal, unions and the earth's upcoming 60 minutes?

"I'll catch 'em in caves and I'll catch 'em in brooks,
I'll catch 'em in crannies, I'll catch 'em in nooks
That you don't read about in geography books.

I'll catch 'em in countries that no one can spell
Like the country of Motta-fa-Potta-fa-Pell.
In a country like that, if a hunter is clever,
He'll hunt up some beasts that you never saw ever!" - The Good Doctor
« Last Edit: March 22, 2008, 03:49:44 am by Gregory D Hough » Report Spam   Logged

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