Hm, need something to read, dum de dum de der
What’s this in my bag? Why it’s a double issue of the mf’ing New Yorker!
Cover is a fresh hot slice of NYC
Playa drew it on his iPhone, that works for me!

Check the TOC, see what’s going down
Looks like a tight line-up, flip to the Talk of the Town
Hot damn, I sure just learned a lot!
Including a fascinating snippet on the best Manhattan tater tot

Instead of going shopping, I’d rather be fed to sharks,
but you bet your sweet bippy – I’ll read anything by Patty Marx!
Some good laughs from Shouts and Murmurs
An absurdist piece on an alcoholic housewife & an escaped family of lemurs

Following this, a counter-intuitive piece from Gawande about using floss
And then a left-field article by McPhee on high-school lacrosse
Off to a good start, how about an in-depth profile?
Looks like it’s on the lead editor of the Chicago Manual of Style

Platon’s grainy black & white photo of that dude was the bomb
Gotta check out the rest of his portfolio on Newyorker.com
Now a Gladwell piece on the psychology of choosing a wedding dress
Which surprisingly is an accurate indicator of future career success

Usually when I get to fiction my attention wanders…
But AYFKM? It’s a story from George Saunders!!!
Nice exploration of mass media and a sentient parking meter
Now excuse me I gotta skip this article on modern theater

Oh man, I accidentally skipped a few
Totally overlooked a great lit review!
That 600 page tome on the East India Company sounds OFF THE HOOK
(Note to self: never ever read that book)

Please lord let there be a sketchbook soon by Chast or Ware
All those intense articles can be hard to bear
Did I mention the cartoons this week are spicier than tarragon?
And we got some A+ illustration Spots in the margin

Sasha’s got the details on a hot Brooklyn-based indie group
Must have taken a lot of PBR to get that scoop!
Anthony Lane just ripped some action sequel blockbuster a new one
Watching a chick flick with him does not sound like much fun

Last but not least the witty winner of this week’s caption contest
And what a surprise: he hails from Cambridge, Massachusetts!
The New Yorker magazine continues to entertain me silly
Hats off to you monsieur Eustice Tilly!!

I speak of a food so divine…
The smell, the texture, the taste – sublime

It’s born and raised on a simple stalk
Rooted in the earth, unable to walk
In the field it grows a mask
Preparing it’s contents for their holy task

The massive combines, they finally come
And it’s trip to my belly has formally begun.
After harvested it’s shucked and dried.
Losing it’s beautiful hair it surely cried…

The cob now is no longer needed
& to a lucky cow it is summarily feeded
At last released from their structured cells!
Freedom! Liberation from their restrictive shells!

Soon I spot a bag of them in a store,
I buy them and their journey seems over, but wait – there’s more!
Now, with much thoughtful trepidation
I begin the final steps of their preparation

Ah, the homely kernel does not realize the special treat
It may become with the right application of heat!
The mechanism itself matters not,
Be it hot air, microwave or scalding oil in a pot

The culinary staccato soothes anticipation
and announces an arrival of this delicious creation
It’s state is reduced to entropy…
and I am as happy as a flea!

At last we have 2-3 second between pops
Silence descends as the machine stops…
The steam clears, a snack is born
Behold this simple perfection: a bowl of popcorn!

Walk in the door and you see the coat rack,
Damn, know that’s an Eames – that piece set us back!

Now you look around, there’s no pix of sea gulls,
We got motherfucking triptychs representing on both walls!

And you know we got more orthogonal side tables
Than the average orthodox Jew’s got dreidels

Careful sucker, you on sacred ground
This livin’ room don’t fuck around
Don’t worry about wiping your shoes
Gotta old-school Roomba with some dopeass moves

I got the real comfy couches and the bamboo shelves
Got ‘nuf knickknacks for a busload of elves

Have so many fine books to make a librarian mad
You know Apartment Therapy would kill to blog our pad!

Oh yeah and that’s a collection of modern lamps
Check it, our plants are certified photosynthesis champs

Careful sucker, you on sacred ground
This livin’ room don’t fuck around
Don’t worry about wiping your shoes
Gotta old-school Roomba with some dopeass moves

We got the custom curtains and the softest rugs
Check it out, bitch, that’s a blanket full of snuggs

Oh hey, you like Ira Glass?
Then that framed “This American Life” poster will knock you on yo’ ass

You know I got my girl on Craigslist 24/7
Looking to add to our lil’ slice of heaven, yeah!

Careful sucker, you on sacred ground
This livin’ room don’t fuck around
Don’t worry about wiping your shoes
Gotta old-school Roomba with some dopeass moves

PEEEEACE!

Earlier this year, little Buster departed for the rainbow bridge/the big yard in the sky. I wrote this to memorialize this proud doggy:

BUSTER

I am a happy canine prince
with four delicate paw prints

My coat is sooooo soft, it’s insane!
but I’ve heard I have a very small brain…

My barks are like little mouse squeaks
but I’m braver than 1,000 Greeks

I’m also told I have a peculiar snore
Like a tiny sleeping wild boar

I love to fetch the frisbee
I never know where it might take me

When I go out to recover the disc
there’s always a fair amount of risk…

Once I thought they threw it for a dog,
but when I grabbed it it was holding a frog!

I’m blessed to have had so many friends
Tucker, Wheatzie, Bodie… the list never ends

As the years wore on it got a little dimmer,
but that only improved my humor!

You see everything was happy for me
as carefree as a dog could be

I gave all the love I could muster,
<3, your loyal dog, BUSTER

(Ed: this is a lady bus wearing a turtleneck, FYI)

#39: The Route to Happiness

Taking a ride on the MBTA #39
Is like uncorking an exquisite bottle of wine
The route’s fleet fancier than Albright’s brooches
Including the Neoplan AN460LF, New Flyer C40LF and NABI 40LFW CNG coaches

The low floors mean that stepping onto this glorious beast
Is like sitting down for the most scrumptious feast
They leave Back Bay about every quarter hour
That’s 355 horses of super bus power

Personally, I prefer the pickup at Copley Square
This bus stop is a pious and homely affair
And, even though they’re powered by Compressed Natural Gas
The Mass Ave underpass stretch will still kick your ass

Usually I get the sixty-foot articulated “accordion”
That lassie will seat 68 of your closest kin
We mosey down Huntington in fits and starts
Picking up passengers on the “Avenue of the Arts”

When you get to Brigham Circle the bus is often full
A seat of your own is the exception, not the rule
Lady with a stroller tries to squeeze out through the crowd
“Rear door please!” she yells out loud

Alright now, take this left at the Texaco
And cruise up S.Huntington, just a couple stops to go!
Okay, here we find the only stop that is complete swill
The f#$^&@@$%# “Back of the Hill”!!!

After the MSPCA, we are closing in on Centre Street
Big props to the corner 7/11 (it holds many delicious things to eat)
Finally we arrive my destination: Lochstead Ave
My trip’s over, but the memories we will always have

I realize your trip to Forest Hills is not always fun
But in the best bus contest, you are #1
My hat’s off to you, my dear Thirty Nine
You may be pushing 40, but you are still looking FINE!

References:

• Madeline Albright’s sweeet pin collection is currently on display at the Museum of Art & Design
• More information about the Neoplan AN460LF (the 60′ bus) may be found on Page 8
• More information about the #39 Bus Route may be found here
• I can find no corroborating sources, but the “Back of the Hill” T stop is the absolute woooooorst stop, horrible, there is another stop 20 ft. away.

Special Thanks:

• Sieman700 for his extensive MBTA knowledge
• E.Roosey for rhyme assistance

We will both wake up one winter day
And without warning he will shave you away…
Before you leave this blessed mortal sphere
There is something you need to hear

I talk a lot, that’s certainly true,
But I regret not saying enough about you
At first I did not support growing the ’stache
What’s the point of purposefully looking like trash?

But you did look good and do compliment the lip
And so my recalcitrance, it began to slip
The ladies swooned. The men? The same
Gotta say it, this face got game

Your style matches Marsh’s fave wifebeater
And you are LEED certified sustainable “cheek heater”
Shaving is not so tough anymore
And when I see you in the mirror, I want to yell “HARDCORE!”

He told me not to tell you how it will end
But cannot lie, can no longer pretend
I know when this will happen to you
When he gets his next job interview!

My favorite ride is Post-Panamax
Lookin’ real good up on 40-ft stacks
Upon you decks & in your hull
Are enough Chinese goods to fill an American mall

Oh humble container, invented by Malcolm McLean
You’re over 50 years old, and have not lost your sheen
Every box has its own story
The greens ones even have a bamboo floory!

A rainbow of colored crates from port to aft
And a very comfortable looking life-raft
The trip from Bangkok to Antwerp takes 42 days
Well, only 19 if you take the Suez!

Or go East to Oakland to drop some cargo
Toss the goods in a train car & one week to Fargo
Across the Pacific you stream again
Your only friends are salty longshoremen

You may have no port to call your own
But don’t worry friend, you are not alone…
Oh mighty vessel floating in the sea
I gotta tell you, me likey!

References:
Post-Panamax
Malcolm McLean
Bamboo Flooring in Shipping Containers
Suez Canal

Just fill up the specially designed bottle
And drop a short prayer to the Carbony Father
Then screw it into the magic machine
and keep pressing the button till that puppy scream!

Four hard presses to build adequate pressure
After six,  you are creating seltz beyond measure
The new water, doth it glisten and pop?
But unscrew it too fast and thou needeth a mop!

The special bevvy has some amazing new power
You are due up for a tastebud shower!
What was once a cup of common H2O
Has been transformed into a golden goblet of “Hey-ooooh!”

Be thee not scared of this awesome device,
For all your juices are now two times as nice
A warning for you adventurous  folk,
Re-carbonating a flat beer is no joke!

Your boring tap water will not be missed
Once it has been paid a visit by the Fizzycist
Some may proclaim it divine intervention
Nay, it is merely man’s greatest invention!

Pardon me friends, a leave I must take -
For with this fresh seltzer, a great thirst I will now slake!

When I first saw your price on the syllabus,
I couldn’t believe it was serious

“The TI BA II + Professional is required for Finance”
And it costs more than a meal in France!

I thought “$70 dollars for a stupid calculator?”
I would soon eat my words for being a hater

Our first couple outings left me less then impressed
I got the wrong answers no matter what buttons I pressed

(I know that last rhyme is pretty lame
but those words are not technically the same)

After a few classes,  I began feeling more comfortable with you…
And against all odds – we formed a friendship, pure and true

Suddenly mortgage schedules were simply a joke
And PV/FV? Just a single key stroke

We tore through annuities and destroyed cash flows
We became more than friends – we became bros

As our relationship progressed you noticed Excel
A being of 100% pure awesomeness and well…

It’s not really fair to compare the two of you
One is rubber, the other glue

After a lot of arguments and misty digital eyes
I think we’ve worked to a fair compromise

The most difficult stuff goes into a spreadsheet
I’m sorry buddy, but those formulas are totally sweet

But as for other calculators -  don’t worry your pretty little head
Your are my calc 4 life – if I stray let the Lord strike me dead!

Recently we bought one of those foldable grocery carts that you see old ladies pushing down the street – it has changed me so much… I couldn’t help but write a poem about it, goes a little something like this:

Before you friend,  laundry was a chore
A trip to the ‘mat = A total bore!

To carry the clothes all-the-way downhill
And they carry them up again? I guess will…

The trip would always wear me down
Washing clothes would make me frown

I needed a hand and some company
Never thought I’d find it in Aisle 3

The wheels up front are svelte &  petite
The big ones in back are straight up street!

And theoretical capacity of 250 pounds
That’s a lot of socks, shirts, undies & gowns!

I pile you high with sodden clothes and soap
and we’ll stroll right down there, no time to mope

When the machines spin round and do their work
I no longer sit there crying like an angry jerk

We laugh we cry we tell old stories
(Like the time great-great-Carty fought off the Tories)

My life is richer since we’ve taken to the streets
I’ve even started using dryer sheets!

In the end, finally, my life is complete
You’re the best dang Carty a boy could meet!

Admittedly, this was not as powerful as my earlier swan song “Lament for a Dead Cellphone” or the hauntingly beautiful  “Complainte pour un portable defunt” but I love you Carty!