Oh My Darling,

Oh My Darling, Oh My Daaaaaaarling Clementine . .

My first question has got to be, who exactly is Clementine? And should I be jealous of her? Is she attractive? Intelligent? Does she charm every man she meets as easily as you?

Man, beware. Woman is a harsh mistress. Not as harsh as the moon, it is true. But if I get mad, I am gonna blow you throw the porthole into the vacuum of space. I am gonna make you suffer through a radiation storm that’ll fry your gonads to Krispy Kremes. As angry as I get, I could conjure up that much radiation with sufficient motivation. And darling, this Clementine gal sounds like sufficient motivation to me.

So I repeat, who is Clementine, and why do you insist on calling her Darling?

Is this affair recent?

Look, there’s no point in arguing, I KNOW it ain’t your pet name for me. You have never called me Clementine during the throes of passion or at any other point in time. It ain’t any of my middle names, and nor has it ever been a nickname of mine.

Should I be jealous? Should I stomp all over your face until you have footprints on your eyelids? Should I mummify you in packing tape? With all that body hair of yours, well, I think that should prove sufficient deterrent from ever dallying again.

But still, I must insist. Who is Clementine, and why are you singing about her?

Lament of the Modifiers

I am saddened at the quality of online thesauri. Lack of proper adjectives abound. Who stole all our adjectives? Well, maybe not OUR adjectives. You may have never met them, whereas I used to be intimately acquainted with them, talking like a dictionary and having been concussed many times as a result of dictionaries tossed at my head. It’s one way to get the information in, albeit not an overly effective one.

But alas, I lament the lack of adjectives. I sing a dirge, Lamentatio Verbum. It almost sounds as though I know Latin, but alas and alack, no. And my puny little dictionary had no translation listed for adjective, which leads me to believe that Romans didn’t have adjectives. They’re the ones who should have written a dirge to the lack of adjectives. In my historical wanderings across the face of the planet, I did find me an earthenware jar hidden at the back of a cave, and inside it I did find parchments. Said parchments were written entirely in Latin and other languages not English. They must be translated. They must be understood. They must be sung and heralded about the land. But alas and alack, again, it is now my responsibility as the sole observer of this dearth.

The original, written in Latin, doesn’t translate precisely over to English, nor is it as poetic as the original, so we will make do with imprecise English as best we can. It was originally sung to the tune of Lament of the Adverbium, sometimes also referred to in historical documents as Requiem of the Verb Modifier in twelve part harmony with accompanying 55 part orchestra comprised in its entirety of woodwinds.

The lyrics are as follows.

Lament of the Adverbium, or Requiem of the Verb Modifier

“When the adverbs are confounded
Call us, with thy verbs surrounded
Low we are, with meaning submissive
See, like ashes our contrition!
Help us in our clarification.

“Day of Sadness, Day of Regret,
From the dust of sentences converging
Adverbs meaning must prepare
Spare, oh wise one, in mercy, the adverb!
All pitying, grant the adverb eternal usage.

Lamentatio Verbum is much more idyllic in the original Latin, but alas and alack yet again, the parchment didn’t survive past the seventh century AD. All we had was an Olde Germanic translation, which has since been translated into Olde English, and then into modern English. But this will suffice for our purposes this day.

Lamentatio Verbum

“Eternal use give to them, O Writer,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
A hymn, a poem, a ballad, O Writer,
becometh the adjective, enhances the clarity.
A vow made now, oh hear my desire,
All flesh shall use the adjective.
Eternal use give the adjective.

I did mention it was translated into German before English, didn’t I? Well, it’s those Germans fault the translation is so ugly, so lacking in poetic flow.

And today, the internet is down.

No, not my connection. The entire internet.

You disagree? And you may be right to disagree except for one small fact. Today exists only for me. For the rest of you – it is but an illusion.

Ah well. Whatever. I think I’ll write haikus instead.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue . . .

Wait! That’s no haiku! Who put that silly rhyme in my head? Dagnabbit. Okay, let’s try again.

Purple orchids bloom
Brilliant colors ablaze

Dying at midnight

Death of a stranger
Rancid, sour stickiness

Sticky blackness rains