Today's theme of LIES UNDER OATH should probably read: "Lies under mild oath," as there are few today, I imagine, who would even consider these words oaths at all. Me, I have been known to utter an "Egad" in earnest from time to time, but really, these four words each have their own specific, sometimes sarcastic meanings. At least for me. "Gosh," is feigned surprise, "dang" is more sincere, respectful surprise (?), and "drat" is for humorous frustration.
But sure, they're oaths. I mean, what else could they do? Use George Carlin's seven words you can't say on television? I don't think so. And below each one, satisfyingly right-justified, is the word "lie." Ergo - LIES UNDER OATH. Very nice.
"Talking item in Dora the Explorer's backpack" (MAP) will always make me laugh, because back when a niece was young enough to watch that show, we would sometimes be in the house while it was on, and we heard Dora yell "MAP!" so many times that we will often still yell it ourselves. Sometimes in appropriate situations, like when we have to consult a map (yes, we do still enjoy an atlas, or even a fold-out map), and sometimes, like Dora did, just for the sheer joy of screaming "MAP" at the top of our lungs. ... Sigh. It's all part of life's rich pageant. :)
Let's see, what else? Doesn't SANPEDRO always remind you of the song "Hot Rod Lincoln?" No? Well, it does me. "Pulled out of San Pedro late one night / The moon and the stars was shinin' bright. / We was drivin' up Grapevine Hill / Passing cars like they was standing still." Go listen to it again. You'll love it.
I haven't heard of NOLITA (Manhattan neighborhood next to SoHo). Without the clue I would have thought it was some anti-Nabokov group. Heh. And I'm not so sure I'd equate "Spleen" and FURY. Spleen is complicated. Baudelaire titled four separate poems with that one word. For him, I believe, it's more of an agitated-yet-resigned self-loathing coupled with world-weary despair. And he should know - most sources credit him with first using "spleen" in a non-medical way. Here's Spleen I for you - in translation.
Spleen
I have more memories than if I'd lived a thousand years.
A heavy chest of drawers cluttered with balance-sheets,
Processes, love-letters, verses, ballads,
And heavy locks of hair enveloped in receipts,
Hides fewer secrets than my gloomy brain.
It is a pyramid, a vast burial vault
Which contains more corpses than potter's field.
— I am a cemetery abhorred by the moon,
In which long worms crawl like remorse
And constantly harass my dearest dead.
I am an old boudoir full of withered roses,
Where lies a whole litter of old-fashioned dresses,
Where the plaintive pastels and the pale Bouchers,
Alone, breathe in the fragrance from an opened phial.
Nothing is so long as those limping days,
When under the heavy flakes of snowy years
Ennui, the fruit of dismal apathy,
Becomes as large as immortality.
— Henceforth you are no more, O living matter!
Than a block of granite surrounded by vague terrors,
Dozing in the depths of a hazy Sahara
An old sphinx ignored by a heedless world,
Omitted from the map, whose savage nature
Sings only in the rays of a setting sun.
— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
OK, so on that note, have a great day!
- Horace
p.s. Shout out to REL - the initials of my father and two brothers! :)
.jpg)
.jpg)
