[623] Ten Ways to Avoid Lending Your Wheelbarrow to Anybody
From the irresistible-followup-dept.:
| Ten Ways to Avoid Lending Your Wheelbarrow to Anybody |
1 PATRIOTIC
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I didn't lay down my life in World War II
so that you could borrow my wheelbarrow.
2 SNOBBISH
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Unfortunately Lord Goodman is using it.
3 OVERWEENING
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
It is too mighty a conveyance to be wielded
by any mortal save myself.
4 PIOUS
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
My wheelbarrow is reserved for religious ceremonies.
5 MELODRAMATIC
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I would sooner be broken on its wheel
and buried in its barrow.
6 PATHETIC
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I am dying of schizophrenia
and all you can talk about is wheelbarrows.
7 DEFENSIVE
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Do you think I'm made of wheelbarrows?
8 SINISTER
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
It is full of blood.
9 LECHEROUS
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Only if I can fuck your wife in it.
10 PHILOSOPHICAL
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
What is a wheelbarrow?
-- Adrian Mitchell
|
From 'The Apeman Cometh', 1975.
[Martin's commentary]
Another brilliant poem from Mitchell. Thomas has called Mitchell his
favourite contemporary poet, and while I wouldn't go that far, there's no
denying that his is an unusually refreshing voice, blending humour and
cynicism with a power that prevents the former two from lapsing into
brittleness.
That same power raises what could have been merely a mildly amusing parody
of Stevens' Blackbird poem into a biting look at the hundred and one
convoluted ways people have of saying 'no'. The poem is hilarious as much
for its perceptiveness in cataloguing these turndowns as for the deft way
each is exaggerated to precisely the right extent. IMHO, one of Mitchell's
funniest works, and one that suffers not at all for being 'merely' a parody
of a more famous poem.
In fact, I'd hesitate to call this a parody, in that it doesn't draw upon
the original for anything other than the idea, and that having read the
original is unnecessary to appreciate it. It's more a poem *inspired* by
'Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird' - knowing the original will give
the reader a brief thrill of recognition, but add nothing else to the poem.
[My own commentary]
What, you want more? <g>
Actually, Martin's already covered most of what I wanted to say about this
poem. So I'll content myself with a few quick notes.
Firstly: No, I wouldn't call it a parody either. In fact, I'm pretty sure
the generic construct "n ways of doing x" was in currency well before
Stevens' magnificent poem; Mitchell's title is no more evidence of parody
than, say, Paul Simon's "50 ways to leave your lover". (That said, I would
be happy to be proven wrong).
Secondly: I must betray a certain curiosity as to who Martin's favourite
contemporary poet is. Spill the beans, do.
Thirdly and lastly: 'dying of schizophrenia' - ah, immortal phrase.
[Links]
Kenneth Koch, "Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams":
poem #278
A previous irresistible followup - Harold Monro, "Overheard on a Salmarsh":
poem #594. I'm sure there are more IFs elsewhere on the Minstrels, but
this was the only one I could remember offhand.
While we're on the ways-and-means theme, check out Edwin Brock's "Five Ways
to Kill a Man": poem #105
Other Mitchell poems:
poem #397
poem #337
poem #211
poem #95
poem #28
thomas.
From: Martin Julian DeMello <martindemello@>
> Secondly: I must betray a certain curiosity as to who Martin's favourite
> contemporary poet is. Spill the beans, do.
Don't read enough contemporary poetry to have any clear favourites - the most
recent poet to make it on to my 'favourite poets' list was probably Betjeman
(died in 1984). I could go through a list of modern poets and pick out the
one I like the best, but that doesn't seem to fit the spirit of the
definition somehow <g>.
m.
From: Sunil Iyengar <sriyengar@>
Your consistency is admirable: I note that Koch's parody of W.C. Williams
was distributed one year from this date.
From: Jeff Berndt <thecraichead@>
> [My own commentary]
> In fact, I'm pretty sure the generic construct "n ways of doing x" was in
> currency well before Stevens' magnificent poem; Mitchell's title is no
> more evidence of parody than, say, Paul Simon's "50 ways to leave your
> lover". (That said, I would be happy to be proven wrong).
Minstrels,
Enjoyed this immensely. It reminds me of the 20 "Somethings Better" that
Steve Martin's character in the film _Roxanne_ came up with on a challenge,
which was brazenly stolen from the original, _Cyrano de Bergerac_, whose 20
"Somethings Better" were more poetic, being metered and rhymed, at least in
the original French. Sadly, I don't have a copy at hand (in any language),
or I'd submit them as a guest poem just to continue the theme. Can anybody
out there oblige?
All the Best,
Jeff Berndt
From: Mamaliga <zvitka@>
--- Abraham Thomas <thomas@> wrote:
> From the irresistible-followup-dept.:
>
10 kinds of laughs I got from this poem"
>
> 1 PATRIOTIC
HA.
>
> 2 SNOBBISH
>
"Ha"
>
> 3 OVERWEENING
>
HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH.
>
> 4 PIOUS
>
ha
> 5 MELODRAMATIC
HAHA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA HA
HAHA HA HA HA HAHA HA HA HA
>
> 6 PATHETIC
ah ha.
>
> 7 DEFENSIVE
Ha?
> 8 SINISTER
>
Ah Ha!
> 9 LECHEROUS
ah ah ahah aha ahahaha AH!HA! AH AH AH HA!
>
> 10 PHILOSOPHICAL
>
ah...
> -- Adrian Mitchell
>
> From 'The Apeman Cometh', 1975.
Deng gue vedi much. I had a good laugh.
I
From: "Andrew Landgraf" <landgraf.5@>
it seems lie a rip off of cerano de bergerac to me.
From: "Andrew Landgraf" <landgraf.5@>
Here is the 20 "somethings Better" that Jeff Berndt was talking about.
It would please me to see you post it. (The Viscount is trying to insult
Cyrano, but is not very good)
I got it from
ftp://uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu/pub/etext/gutenberg/etext98/cdben10.txt
THE VISCOUNT:
No one? But wait!
I'll treat him to. . .one of my quips!. . .See here!. . .
(He goes up to Cyrano, who is watching him, and with a conceited air):
Sir, your nose is. . .hmm. . .it is. . .very big!
CYRANO (gravely):
Very!
THE VISCOUNT (laughing):
Ha!
CYRANO (imperturbably):
Is that all?. . .
THE VISCOUNT:
What do you mean?
CYRANO:
Ah no! young blade! That was a trifle short!
You might have said at least a hundred things
By varying the tone. . .like this, suppose,. . .
Aggressive: 'Sir, if I had such a nose
I'd amputate it!' Friendly: 'When you sup
It must annoy you, dipping in your cup;
You need a drinking-bowl of special shape!'
Descriptive: ''Tis a rock!. . .a peak!. . .a cape!
--A cape, forsooth! 'Tis a peninsular!'
Curious: 'How serves that oblong capsular?
For scissor-sheath? Or pot to hold your ink?'
Gracious: 'You love the little birds, I think?
I see you've managed with a fond research
To find their tiny claws a roomy perch!'
Truculent: 'When you smoke your pipe. . .suppose
That the tobacco-smoke spouts from your nose--
Do not the neighbors, as the fumes rise higher,
Cry terror-struck: "The chimney is afire"?'
Considerate: 'Take care,. . .your head bowed low
By such a weight. . .lest head o'er heels you go!'
Tender: 'Pray get a small umbrella made,
Lest its bright color in the sun should fade!'
Pedantic: 'That beast Aristophanes
Names Hippocamelelephantoles
Must have possessed just such a solid lump
Of flesh and bone, beneath his forehead's bump!'
Cavalier: 'The last fashion, friend, that hook?
To hang your hat on? 'Tis a useful crook!'
Emphatic: 'No wind, O majestic nose,
Can give THEE cold!--save when the mistral blows!'
Dramatic: 'When it bleeds, what a Red Sea!'
Admiring: 'Sign for a perfumery!'
Lyric: 'Is this a conch?. . .a Triton you?'
Simple: 'When is the monument on view?'
Rustic: 'That thing a nose? Marry-come-up!
'Tis a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize turnip!'
Military: 'Point against cavalry!'
Practical: 'Put it in a lottery!
Assuredly 'twould be the biggest prize!'
Or. . .parodying Pyramus' sighs. . .
'Behold the nose that mars the harmony
Of its master's phiz! blushing its treachery!'
--Such, my dear sir, is what you might have said,
Had you of wit or letters the least jot:
But, O most lamentable man!--of wit
You never had an atom, and of letters
You have three letters only!--they spell Ass!
And--had you had the necessary wit,
To serve me all the pleasantries I quote
Before this noble audience. . .e'en so,
You would not have been let to utter one--
Nay, not the half or quarter of such jest!
I take them from myself all in good part,
But not from any other man that breathes!
From: Martin Julian DeMello <martindemello@>
Also sprach Andrew Landgraf...
> Here is the 20 "somethings Better" that Jeff Berndt was talking about. It
> would please me to see you post it. (The Viscount is trying to insult
> Cyrano, but is not very good) I got it from
> ftp://uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu/pub/etext/gutenberg/etext98/cdben10.txt
Thanks! I hadn't read Cyrano, but you and Jeff are perfectly right,
Mitchell's poem is clearly based on Cyrano's speech. Thomas and Guillemard's
translation seems to at least preserve the structured verse aspect of the
original - can someone who's read the French original comment on how good a
translation it is? The English text read as a clever enough bit of repartee
but nowhere near as funny as Mitchell's wheelbarrow series.
Incidentally, Mitchell didn't 'rip off' Rostand - 'parodied', perhaps, or
'paid tribute to', or 'borrowed the idea from', but to call it a rip off is
to dismiss the considerable creativity Mitchell dressed the bare framework
of an idea in. Likewise, although I've never seen Martin's 'Roxanne', it's
clearly a retelling or adaptation of 'Cyrano de Bergerac', both from the
name alone and from the IMDB synopsis. Indeed, Rostand is listed in the
writing credits, and it explicitly says 'based on the play "Cyrano de
Bergerac"'. So the scene was not "brazenly stolen" from the original - au
contraire, it would have been quite surprising did it not feature in the
movie.
This confusion between parody and plagiarism is a common one - it's a
perennial problem in Pratchett fandom, for example[1] - and it is almost
inevitably unjustified. The plagiarist steals in silence, and endeavours to
render his theft unrecognisable; the parodist, on the other hand, targets
his writing towards those people who are familiar with the original, and if
he veers towards subtlety it is more to reward the reader who catches the
reference than to deny the tribute to the original.
[1] to the extent that the Man Himself has said that he wishes people would
exercise more care in their choice of words
martin
From: "Lundquist, Ronald" <Ronald.J.Lundquist@>
In response to Jeff Berndt's comment about this poem:
As Jeff notes this poem does indeed bring to mind the famous "twenty
something betters" scene in the movie "Roxanne", starring Steve Martin,
written by Steve Martin. Roxanne is a modern-day (well, modern-day minus 13
years) version of the play Cyrano De Bergerac, written by Edmond Rostand.
Martin plays C.D. Bales (note the initials) a chap with a gargantuan
proboscis. In a bar Bales' schnozz is insulted and Bales shames the insulter
by doing him "twenty something betters," i.e., coming up with 20 better
insults about his own nose than the rather pedestrian affront meted out by
the affronter. It is interesting that Bales actually comes up with 25
something betters.
(Why are titles so inaccurate when it comes to these lists? Reference Amit
Chakrabarti's e-mail about Simon's "50 ways to leave your lover" comment
found in the last fortnight in comments.)
Anyway, here are the "20 something betters":
1. Obvious: Excuse me. Is that your nose or did a bus park on your face.
2. Meteorological: Everybody take cover. She's going to blow.
3. Fashionable: You know, you could de-emphasize your nose if you wore
something larger. Like ... Wyoming.
4. Personal: Well, here we are. Just the three of us.
5. Punctual: Alright gentlemen. Your nose was on time but you were fifteen
minutes late.
6. Envious: Oooo, I wish I were you. Gosh. To be able to smell your own ear.
7. Naughty: Pardon me, Sir. Some of the ladies have asked if you wouldn't
mind putting that thing away.
8. Philosophical: You know. It's not the size of a nose that's important.
It's what's in it that matters.
9. Humorous: Laugh and the world laughs with you. Sneeze and it's goodbye
Seattle.
10. Commercial: Hi, I'm Earl Schibe and I can paint that nose for $39.95.
11. Polite: Ah. Would you mind not bobbing your head. The orchestra keeps
changing tempo.
12. Melodic: Everybody! "He's got the whole world in his nose."
13. Sympathetic: Oh, What happened? Did your parents lose a bet with God?
14. Complimentary: You must love the little birdies to give them this to
perch on.
15. Scientific: Say, does that thing there influence the tides.
16. Obscure: Oh, I'd hate to see the grindstone.
17. Inquiry: When you stop to smell the flowers, are they afraid?
18. French: Say, the pigs have refused to find any more truffles until you
leave.
19. Pornographic: Finally, a man who can satisfy two women at once.
20. Religious: The Lord giveth and He just kept on giving, didn't He.
21. Disgusting: Say, who mows your nose hair.
22. Paranoid: Keep that guy away from my cocaine!
23. Aromatic: It must be wonderful to wake up in the morning and smell the
coffee ... in Brazil.
24. Appreciative: Oooo, how original. Most people just have their teeth
capped.
25. Dirty: Your name wouldn't be Dick, would it?
Just one more thing. In Amit Chakrabarti's comment on: "Ten Ways to Avoid
Lending Your Wheelbarrow to Anybody", Amit characterizes the poem as a
"pintsize piece of pleasant poppery." "Poppery"? I can't find this word in
any of several dictionaries. Is this a place where popping occurs? Perhaps a
collection of pops? Perhaps the state or condition of being a pop? Does it
have something to do with Pope John Paul II? I am sure that "poppery" is a
perfectly cromulent word, the meaning of which could perhaps be deduced by
context, but I am wondering if anyone can find a definition of this word.
Thanks to all,
Ronald J. Lundquist, Esq.
Ceridian Performance Partners
(651) 994-2963
From: Dennis Rich <dennis@>
Brilliant!! Loved it.