Happy Halloween

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

-Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven, 1845

Colbert For President!

Stephen's presidential bid has become international news! One million strong for Colbert!

On Memorials

"After I'm dead I'd rather have people ask why I have no monument than why I have one."

-Cato the Elder (234-149)

Experience

I like Barack Obama. He is intelligent, charismatic, and capable. As much as I prefer to remain aloof from this absurdly premature presidential race, I have to say that he's my preferred candidate.

But there are some who argue that he lacks experience. He's young - if 46 can be considered young - and he's 'only' a first-term senator. Thus some say that he lacks the worldly political knowledge necessary to be president.

The flimsiness of this critique becomes apparent when one consults recent history. In the past twenty years, two presidents have emerged as icons: Reagan for the right wing, and Clinton for the left. Both of these men had only been state governors before assuming the office of president; they hadn't even had any federal government experience, let alone experience in foreign policy! And yet each man continues to enjoy the reputation of a very successful presidency.

But if you're still concerned with experience, perhaps you should consider the resume of one of the most experienced presidents in our history. The son of a blacksmith, he had pulled himself up by his own bootstraps, attended Stanford University, and made his wealth as a mining engineer. He served as a humanitarian administrator who oversaw food and disaster relief to millions of people inside and out of the US, for which actions the New York Times named him one of the Ten Most Important Living Americans. He then served as US Secretary of Commerce, and he was so good at the job that he often overshadowed the sitting presidents he was serving. He was, thus, a natural choice for the presidency, to which he was elected in a landslide election. That man's name was Herbert Hoover, and his presidency is regarded as one of the most disastrous in US history.

So much for experience.

Tough Call

Christian Science Monitor: Religious Right's Tough Call

WASHINGTON - After two days of wooing by all the Republican presidential candidates, religious conservatives appear no more in agreement on whom to support than they did going in.

The good news, said some of the 2,500 attendees at the Values Voter Summit organized by the Family Research Council, is that most of the GOP candidates share their views on the bedrock issues of the movement: opposition to abortion rights and support for traditional marriage. The bad news is that the strongest Republican in national polls, former New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, is not with them on those issues.

It looks like the so-called 'values voters' are having trouble finding a candidate who is popular but also sufficiently homophobic and strong against women's rights. Shame that Brownback's out of the race. His 'values' were certainly backward enough.

What about God? Is he available for a presidential bid? Or is He too busy preparing to rapture all of those values voters? I hope he does so soon - then those of us who are 'left behind' can elect a worthy president according to rational criteria.

"Clean"

I've pointed out before (here and here) how quotations can be misused with tragic results.

I say again: quotation marks do NOT add emphasis (that's what italics, boldface, underlining, and capital letters are for). Quotes are used to quote someone (is that so hard?), or to make a sarcastic joke, which is what this unfortunately punctuated sign ends up looking like.

Too bad they don't teach that kind of thing anymore in this nation's public "schools".

Stalling for time

CNN: Craig appeals judge's ruling in sex sting case

Keep stalling, Larry. (Get it? Stalling?) And thanks for all those Democratic votes you're winning over for next year!

Thoughts and Ends

Our wills and fates do so contrary run
That our devices still are overthrown;
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of their own.

-The Player King, Hamlet, III.ii

The Idiot

"As yesterday's positive report card shows, childrens do learn when standards are high and results are measured."

-George W. Bush, September 2007

"My job is a decision-making job, and as a result I make a lot of decisions."

-George W. Bush, October 2007


This man is the President of the United States of America. That fact, by itself, is the strongest case against democratic representation I've ever heard.

Ghosts, Witches, Pumpkins... and Santa?

You know what they say about Christmas: it comes only once a year. For four goddamned months.

The above photographs were taken in a Costco store on September 29. That's more than a month before Halloween. And sure enough, three aisles away there was a stack of Halloween candy. Halloween treats and Christmas decorations should never, ever meet in the same store.

These obtrusive and unseasonable decorations were accompanied by the loud, odious chords of electronic Christmas music. Hearing a bad adaptation of "Deck the Halls" is depressing in the first place; hearing it in a wholesale retailer in September is enough to make one suicidal.

This perverse extension of "the season to be jolly" will make Scrooges of us all. Bah! Humbug!