Limerick Friday #644: The Halloween When Grier And The 'Fins Finally Turned Into A Pumpkin -- Day 2,050

Ineptitude year after year

With no vision or plan clear

Had pictures of Ross with a goat

So no one had a firing vote

Yet the 'Fins finally shitcanned Grier

State can't get a loan

From the poorhouse zone

Not rich enough to compete

Or football expectations to meet

Might need to run the wishbone

A pilot's never been more scary

Some secrets Stephen King can't bury

A massive plot twist

That everyone missed

High hopes for "Welcome to Derry"

Signs of life

Amid struggle and strife

Bitched the ATL

Though we're still in cap hell

And McDaniel lives under a knife

Accountability a concept foreign

Prepare the boos to keep pourin'

Determined to make this end badly

As Pack fans watch on sadly

Mediocrity, thy name is Doeren

Last time ...

Day 2,047, Quasi-Qaurantine: "Place Of Tides" Depicts A Dying Tradition Upheld By A Force Of Nature In Stunning Norway

“Ours is a dark and chaotic world. We are all in need of lights to follow.”

Rarely will you find a nonfiction book that touches you so deeply and achieves a sort of unexpected tenderness. "The Place of Tides" is that book.

“The island and the wild things are never fully known. There is no end to learning. Anna knows that, and, now, so do I. When we were young, the old folk seemed to know everything. I had imagined that there was a moment when you felt wise, that you had learnt it all. She looks over at me, smiling, as though she can hear the thought. We are all just children. We never know enough, not even the half of it.”

James Rebanks visits a harsh Norwegian archipelago to learn the ways of the "duck woman," but the author undergoes something of a spiritual transformation along the way. Living with Anna -- the duck woman -- and her friend Ingrid, Rebanks learns the ancient craft of tending to ducks and harvesting eider down in the midst of a beautiful, wild, and unforgiving landscape.

“And in this radically pared-back life, she had found peace and meaning. She was the waves, the light, and the terns rising and falling on the bay. She was them, and they were her.”

The work suffers a little bit in the lack of clarity surrounding the author's breakdown or midlife crisis, as well as the overall chronology of the story. It's also unclear whether Anna knew what Rebanks was after or why he was there -- a significant miss since it's kind of the foundation of the book.

“We cannot be what we are and what we aspire to be at the same time, something in us has to die for something else to be born.”

"The Place of Tides" sneaks up on you, contrasting the relentless nature of the modern world with a disappearing tradition in an environment under siege from man's thoughtlessness. Rebanks's adventure is a compelling story, his personal journey is a cautionary tale, and his portrait of Anna is enchanting and revealing.

“I had been searching for a hero, and I found what I’d thought was the most defiant person alive. But, instead of a superhero, I had become friends with an ordinary woman who had lived an extraordinary life.”

Limerick Friday #643: Teleport Us Out Of This Newscycle -- Day 2,043

Deep in fascism's throes

In the lowest of all the lows

But even for the world's worst grouse

Literally destroying the White House

Feels just way too on the nose

His ineptitude you have to applaud

As he drags down an entire squad

The broad side of a barn he couldn't hit

Just another MAGA piece of shit

Tua, the noodle-armed fraud

This is the bed we've made

Under Doeren for more than a decade

NC State Shit shall not pass

It's here to stay, alas

But at least we now have Will Wade

Four or five days a week

Youth soccer is not for the meek

But the smell of grass at dawn

I'll miss when it's gone

So excuse me if my eyes leak

Will we ever get to fall

It's still too warm, y'all

When will it be hoodie season

Will we ever have a reason

To wear cold-weather clothes at all?

Last time ...

Day 2,040, Quasi-Quarantine: "King Of Ashes" Feels Formulaic, But Delivers The Page-Turning Engagement It Promises

“‘Karma is what comes back to you for what you done. Getting what you deserve is just what finds you eventually,’ Dante said.”

S.A. Cosby has a Southern noir formula that works, as evidenced by his prolific output ("All The Sinners Bleed," "Razorblade Tears," "Blacktop Wasteland"). "King of Ashes" is his latest offering, and while it doesn't break a lot of new ground, it makes up for its limitations with another damn good story.

“A couple nights ago he’d been lying in bed next to a model whose claim to fame was being Ass Shaker #2 in an Usher video, and now he was bleeding on the floor of the building his father had built brick by agonizing brick.”

The Carruthers family has a lot of secrets, a built-in body-disappearer, and the bad luck to live in a small Virginia town with a murder rate seemingly near 100 percent. "King of Ashes" documents the slow-moving but systematic disintegration of that family, as the past and the present meet in horrifying and relentless ways.

“Roman was beginning to think the only difference between a tragedy and an opportunity was how much what was lost mattered.”

The novel doesn't require a whole lot of thought and features some significant plot holes, but makes it work on the power of a delightfully surprising revelation and the denial of a storybook ending. It's clear that Cosby has his very own genre -- and he isn't ready to give it up anytime soon.

“When they came for her this time, she’d scream like she did that night. A wild feral howl that asked an uncaring universe why this was happening. And the universe would do what it always did.”

Limerick Friday #642: A Hoosier Of A Whirlwind Time -- Day 2,036

Predictably, the Pack laid an egg

May be time to sweep Doeren's leg

The Colts salvaged the trip

Around Indiana did we rip

Now I need a couch and a keg

Above average, more or less

Though the luck's been a mess

Unlikely opponent games

From fucking no-names

That's fantasy football, I guess

What would make UNC more of a snake?

If they were on the Saudi take!

Who are they trying to fool?

A joke of a fucking school

And will always be a fraud and a fake

A key win to go to 4-2

A romp was good to see, true

Made some shrewd moves

Got the team in good grooves

Now the Scooters gotta see it through

Of regrets, I'd be remiss

And long would be that list

An ache bittersweet as persimmon

For all kinds of redheaded women

That I ain't supposed to kiss

Last time ...

Day 2,034, Quasi-Quarantine: Alternately Hysterical And Gut-Wrenching, "Vera, Or Faith" Explores The Collision Of Technology, Culture, And Politics

“She hated that happiness and sadness were always forming a pretzel.”

“A family is worth more than a country, isn’t it?”

The irrepressible Gary Shteyngart -- author of "Our Country Friends," among other works -- pulls zero punches in his latest novel, which takes on nativism, futurism, border repression, and other societal landmines. "Vera, or Faith" feels ripped from the headlines, while also feeling at least a little bit autobiographical.

“‘Make-work,’ Daddy called her homework, derisively, and it mostly was a continuation of the school day, the careful recording of numbers, letters, and concepts that would vaunt them into the appropriate high school, the appropriate college, and, for those whose families had recently arrived, into the ‘gleaming anus of late capitalist society’ (Daddy, of course, for which he was severely ‘censured’ by Anne Mom).”

The first three-quarters of this short book focus on inanity, irony, and pure humor to depict the life of 10-year-old Vera, her Russian immigrant father, her stepbrother, and her "Anne Mom." Her biological mother -- "Mom Mom" -- is a mysterious figure who eventually captivates precocious Vera's imagination, leading to a devastating conclusion.

“Anne Mom wanted a lot of structure, but Daddy said childhood ‘should just happen,’ like it had happened to him, and that until you went to grad school ‘nothing really mattered,’ it was all just a ‘neoliberal frog march of the damned.’”

Powered by a heart-breaking, clever, and emotional ending, "Vera, or Faith" is a shattering reminder that adolescence has never been more fraught, and contemporary politics has made heritage both dangerous and contextual.

Maybe, just maybe, it takes a Russian immigrant to write the ideal post-ICE-takeover novel. Shteyngart has made a compelling case for that here.

“‘I’m only ten,’ she repeated. It was what her mother wanted to hear and just maybe it was true.”

Limerick Friday #641: Off On A Midwest Football Weekend -- Day 2,030

Headed off to Indy

And climes more windy

To see the Colts game

And if State beats Notre Dame

I'll do a hotel-pool Triple Lindy

The Mets just choked

The 'Fins getting smoked

State missed a golden chance

Now all I've got are rants

Because every joke I've already joked

The state of the Scooters

Has me doing shooters

Rebuilding the roster

Tossing every impostor

'Til I wake up .500 in a Hooters

"Follow the herd" bitches

Got me rolling in stitches

Pissing their pants perceptibly

In fear of Belicheat pre-emptively

Now UNC is steering straight into ditches

Of sanity they're bereft

Of morality, there's no heft

A government with no frontal lobe

Got me looking at the globe

Wondering if there's anywhere free left

Last time ...

Day 2,028, Quasi-Quarantine: Subversive, Posthumous "Master And Margarita" Delivers Satanic, Supernatural Takedown Of Moscow

“‘Forgive me, but I don’t believe you,’ Woland replied, ‘that cannot be: manuscripts don’t burn.’”

Written over some dozen years and published more than a quarter-century after the author's death by his widow, "The Master and Margarita" documents a dizzying series of supernatural events taking place in Moscow and Jerusalem in linked timelines.

“And at midnight there came an apparition in hell. A handsome dark-eyed man with a dagger-like beard, in a tailcoat, stepped on to the veranda and cast a regal glance over his domain.”

Mikhail Bulgakov manages to mesh irony, satire, and humor while subtly criticizing Soviet society and its atheistic stance. He manages to cushion the blows of torture, disappearances, and corruption through fantastical analogies, underscoring the intersections of courage and cowardice along the way.

"The Master and Margarita" can be difficult to follow and challenging to read, as the devil and his retinue interact with and impact a seemingly endless number of "citizens." However, the effort is worth it, as Bulgakov has created a satirical masterpiece that still resonates today.

“Gods, my gods! How sad the evening earth! How mysterious the mists over the swamps! He who has wandered in these mists, he who has suffered much before death, who has flown over this earth bearing on himself too heavy a burden, knows it. The weary man knows it. And without regret he leaves the mists of the earth, its swamps and rivers, with a light heart he gives himself into the hands of death, knowing that she alone can bring him peace.”

Limerick Friday #640: Embarrassment Reigns Again In Queens For The No-Shame Mets -- Day 2,023

A collapse for the ages

Happened in stages

But we've seen it all before

It's part of Mets lore

You have to laugh through the rages

Usually enjoy the Ryder Cup

But the world's got me all shook up

Embarrassed to be American now

Always asking what, why, and how

So I definitely was rooting for Europe

The talent is beyond thin

Coach is a dead man walkin'

But fuck the Jets

So celebrate, let's

For our first (and maybe only) win

Break up the Big Four

They're frauds at the core

Play grabass at crunch time

Then choke when it's on the line

This is the Mets, less or more

The league logo should be a tool

Every goddam owner a fool

Offering asinine trades

Or reneging in spades

Guess I'll just take 'em all to school

Last time ...

Day 2,021, Quasi-Quarantine: "Down And Out In Paris And London" Is A Stark, Hysterical Memoir

 

“The Paris slums are a gathering-place for eccentric people – people who have fallen into solitary, half-mad grooves of life and given up trying to be normal or decent. Poverty frees them from ordinary standards of behaviour, just as money frees people from work.”

“There is only one way to make money at writing, and that is to marry a publisher’s daughter.”

The incomparable George Orwell shares experiences of living in poverty in two of the world's most renowned cities. Published in 1933, "Down and Out in Paris and London" serves as a fascinating social commentary on the contrasting perception of "tramping" and luxury. 

“It is curious how people take it for granted that they have a right to preach at you and pray over you as soon as your income falls below a certain level.”

“I believe that this instinct to perpetuate useless work is, at bottom, simply fear of the mob. The mob (the thought runs) are such low animals that they would be dangerous if they had leisure; it is safer to keep them too busy to think.”

The author's insights into the seedy underbellies of these hallowed places borders on the shocking. For the discerning reader, this account can be accurately described as the original "Kitchen Confidential."

“Roughly speaking, the more one pays for food, the more sweat and spittle one is obliged to eat with it.”

The memoir is tragic, hilarious, revelatory, and moving at various times. Even if this work serves more as a travel book, the seeds of "1984" and "Animal Farm" are apparent in Orwell's memorable observations and turns of phrase.

“Still I can point to one or two things I have definitely learned by being hard up. I shall never again think that all tramps are drunken scoundrels, nor expect a beggar to be grateful when I give him a penny, nor be surprised if men out of work lack energy, nor subscribe to the Salvation Army, nor pawn my clothes, nor refuse a handbill, nor enjoy a meal at a smart restaurant. That is a beginning.”