Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
Bowl Season
Here's a partial re-post from 2007--concerning (football) bowl season, which doesn't make any sense even in the culture to which in belongs (American):
Bowls I would like to see played, to make "bowl season" more interesting:
1. The Despair Bowl, featuring the two worst teams in college football. Different faith-traditions could sponsor this bowl and offer hope to the teams and their long-suffering fans.
2. The Absurdity Bowl, in which, if a team "scores," points are subtracted, not added. So if a team scored a lot, the scoreboard would read "-58" or something like that. The defenses would attempt to let the offenses score; they would be hospitable, polite, and supportive. The offenses would be inoffensive, reticent, and shy.
3. The Don't Go To War Unless It's Absolutely Necessary Bowl, featuring teams from the military academies. Before the game, all in attendance would pray in their own fashion that the players would never have to see military action and especially not have to suffer wounds or get killed in combat, ever.
4. The Poetry Bowl, in which players from the two teams would choose their favorite poems and read them aloud to the crowd during the four timed quarters. There would be a half-time, during which the teams could change their strategies and consult different anthologies. Judges would determine which set of poems was more interesting and which team gave better readings. All the players would earn academic credits in English at their respective universities.
5. The Zen Bowl, featuring no teams, only spectators, who would file in and look at the empty field. Cheerleaders representing no teams would "cheer" silently.
6. The Interpretation Bowl. This would be an ordinary football game, but on television, you could select different commentators to describe and interpret the game. The menu would include political scientists, feminist scholars, anthropologists, game-theorists, mathematicians, physicists, psychologists, and so forth. Everyone at home would get the deeper meaning of their choice.
7. The Out Bowl. This would be a game between two teams composed of players from all teams across the nation--perhaps East and West. Players would be invited to come out as gay, but no player would be outed without his permission. One aim would be to assemble enough gay players to field two teams. Another aim would be to help the United States get over its homophobia and realize that about 10 per cent of any given group--including athletes--is gay. (Consider the appeal of gladiator-movies.) I predict that this Bowl will not occur soon.
8. The Soup Bowl. Innumerable corporate sponsors would support this Bowl lavishly, but all the profits would go to feeding the homeless, who would be able to attend the game for free (if they so desired), after a good meal, a hot shower, and a fresh change of clothes.
Bowls I would like to see played, to make "bowl season" more interesting:
1. The Despair Bowl, featuring the two worst teams in college football. Different faith-traditions could sponsor this bowl and offer hope to the teams and their long-suffering fans.
2. The Absurdity Bowl, in which, if a team "scores," points are subtracted, not added. So if a team scored a lot, the scoreboard would read "-58" or something like that. The defenses would attempt to let the offenses score; they would be hospitable, polite, and supportive. The offenses would be inoffensive, reticent, and shy.
3. The Don't Go To War Unless It's Absolutely Necessary Bowl, featuring teams from the military academies. Before the game, all in attendance would pray in their own fashion that the players would never have to see military action and especially not have to suffer wounds or get killed in combat, ever.
4. The Poetry Bowl, in which players from the two teams would choose their favorite poems and read them aloud to the crowd during the four timed quarters. There would be a half-time, during which the teams could change their strategies and consult different anthologies. Judges would determine which set of poems was more interesting and which team gave better readings. All the players would earn academic credits in English at their respective universities.
5. The Zen Bowl, featuring no teams, only spectators, who would file in and look at the empty field. Cheerleaders representing no teams would "cheer" silently.
6. The Interpretation Bowl. This would be an ordinary football game, but on television, you could select different commentators to describe and interpret the game. The menu would include political scientists, feminist scholars, anthropologists, game-theorists, mathematicians, physicists, psychologists, and so forth. Everyone at home would get the deeper meaning of their choice.
7. The Out Bowl. This would be a game between two teams composed of players from all teams across the nation--perhaps East and West. Players would be invited to come out as gay, but no player would be outed without his permission. One aim would be to assemble enough gay players to field two teams. Another aim would be to help the United States get over its homophobia and realize that about 10 per cent of any given group--including athletes--is gay. (Consider the appeal of gladiator-movies.) I predict that this Bowl will not occur soon.
8. The Soup Bowl. Innumerable corporate sponsors would support this Bowl lavishly, but all the profits would go to feeding the homeless, who would be able to attend the game for free (if they so desired), after a good meal, a hot shower, and a fresh change of clothes.
Lapses in Memory
So, I have this friend, he's 62, and his mother
is 90. He takes her to her regular medical check-ups.
And so forth. At the last check-up, the nurse who
works for the doctor had the mother, 90, fill out
a form, answer questions. One of the questions
was, "Have you experienced lapses in memory lately?"
The mother read the question and turned to her son,
my friend, who is 62, and asked, "How would I know?"
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
is 90. He takes her to her regular medical check-ups.
And so forth. At the last check-up, the nurse who
works for the doctor had the mother, 90, fill out
a form, answer questions. One of the questions
was, "Have you experienced lapses in memory lately?"
The mother read the question and turned to her son,
my friend, who is 62, and asked, "How would I know?"
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Getting Old: An Introduction
You'll admit you always had the illusion
you were almost hip, sort of with-it, and
you'll admit that you never were and that
you're now completely out of step. Bones
and muscles will ache as easily as they used
not to. To the extent you had personal enemies,
they'll either be dead now or seem
ludicrous--like you. Hair
will have grown in places you hadn't
imagined hair could grow, as in for example
the inside of your ears. By turns, you'll want
to cry out "Leave me alone!" and "Please
notice me!" If the young notice you,
they'll look through you. Lust won't leave
you. It will just badger you and make
you seem creepy. In fact, this is a country
for old men and women. The problem
is simply that age doesn't earn you anything
special, and pneumonia's always
out there, waiting like a burglar,
and nobody cares what you know.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
you were almost hip, sort of with-it, and
you'll admit that you never were and that
you're now completely out of step. Bones
and muscles will ache as easily as they used
not to. To the extent you had personal enemies,
they'll either be dead now or seem
ludicrous--like you. Hair
will have grown in places you hadn't
imagined hair could grow, as in for example
the inside of your ears. By turns, you'll want
to cry out "Leave me alone!" and "Please
notice me!" If the young notice you,
they'll look through you. Lust won't leave
you. It will just badger you and make
you seem creepy. In fact, this is a country
for old men and women. The problem
is simply that age doesn't earn you anything
special, and pneumonia's always
out there, waiting like a burglar,
and nobody cares what you know.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Monday, November 26, 2012
Of Time and the Poets
While Since was settling its accounts
with time, Then subsequented itself
right on down the line. And Because
pretended to be more influential
than it was, as Correlation made
real differences and, well, caused
a bit of buzz. Later, when Eventually,
Never, Seldom, and Once raided the place,
narrative lost face, storytellers
interrupted each other, and poets
withdrew to a corner where
not-that-much-happens, and
where plots are as tedious as
blueprints and Immediately
shouts, "Can I get an Amen?"
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
with time, Then subsequented itself
right on down the line. And Because
pretended to be more influential
than it was, as Correlation made
real differences and, well, caused
a bit of buzz. Later, when Eventually,
Never, Seldom, and Once raided the place,
narrative lost face, storytellers
interrupted each other, and poets
withdrew to a corner where
not-that-much-happens, and
where plots are as tedious as
blueprints and Immediately
shouts, "Can I get an Amen?"
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Retirement Communities Advertise (Of Course They Do)
The retirement communities, where retirements
live in groups, advertise themselves. They
feature images of people who seem vibrant
like earthquakes, active like yeast, and
damned White, if you ask me.
I'm closer to living in such a place
than I was yesterday. I guess this
is true of a lot of people. My hip
aches, so I won't have too much more
to say here (a lie) than I wish the ads weren't
so cheery: It's basically the same appeal
that's used to get American children to get
their parents to buy cubic tons of stuff made
in Asia. Except now the kids are indirectly
urged to shelve the Old Man and Ma here,
and not there. I'd prefer ads narrated
by Charon from his ferry. "Come on down!
We're at the corner of Styx and Acheron!"
Or a riff on Bergman's white-masked Death
playing chess. "It's your move . . . into
assisted living!" Or an actor playing
Robert Johnson singing, "Meet me
at the crossroads, baby. We'll eat
some peas and mashed potatoes."
Or how about this: "Look, it's a
dormitory for the gray, it's okay
to smoke weed, and we promise
not to bother you or make you pray.
We don't guarantee it, but you
might get laid, somehow, some way."
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
live in groups, advertise themselves. They
feature images of people who seem vibrant
like earthquakes, active like yeast, and
damned White, if you ask me.
I'm closer to living in such a place
than I was yesterday. I guess this
is true of a lot of people. My hip
aches, so I won't have too much more
to say here (a lie) than I wish the ads weren't
so cheery: It's basically the same appeal
that's used to get American children to get
their parents to buy cubic tons of stuff made
in Asia. Except now the kids are indirectly
urged to shelve the Old Man and Ma here,
and not there. I'd prefer ads narrated
by Charon from his ferry. "Come on down!
We're at the corner of Styx and Acheron!"
Or a riff on Bergman's white-masked Death
playing chess. "It's your move . . . into
assisted living!" Or an actor playing
Robert Johnson singing, "Meet me
at the crossroads, baby. We'll eat
some peas and mashed potatoes."
Or how about this: "Look, it's a
dormitory for the gray, it's okay
to smoke weed, and we promise
not to bother you or make you pray.
We don't guarantee it, but you
might get laid, somehow, some way."
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Monday, November 19, 2012
In the Last Gangster Movie
In the last (what the the fuck took so long?) gangster movie,
the Italians and the Irish and the Russians and who the fuck
else cares kill each other. Fat illiterate loud men in track suits
self-immolate, Martin Scorcese and Francis Ford Go Fuck
Yourself retire, and
brains exploding on walls no longer appeal:
well what a fucking surprise!
"It's just a bunch of stupid men
killing each other, and most of them
seem to be Catholics and, you know,
underachieving," observed an observer.
Roll out the fucking Brooklyn, Little Italy,
Atlantic City, Las Vegas, Dildo-ville accents.
Lay out the buffet of sociopathic practices.
And then, for fuck's sake, go away
forever and always. Badda-boom,
badda-fucking-bore.
Hans Ostrom 2012
the Italians and the Irish and the Russians and who the fuck
else cares kill each other. Fat illiterate loud men in track suits
self-immolate, Martin Scorcese and Francis Ford Go Fuck
Yourself retire, and
brains exploding on walls no longer appeal:
well what a fucking surprise!
"It's just a bunch of stupid men
killing each other, and most of them
seem to be Catholics and, you know,
underachieving," observed an observer.
Roll out the fucking Brooklyn, Little Italy,
Atlantic City, Las Vegas, Dildo-ville accents.
Lay out the buffet of sociopathic practices.
And then, for fuck's sake, go away
forever and always. Badda-boom,
badda-fucking-bore.
Hans Ostrom 2012
Have It History's Way
Shaggy evergreens shrug and sway in a rainstorm.
Ezra Pound wasn't much for trees--Wordsworth-weary,
I suppose. Couldn't see history in or through them.
Instead he thought of rocks, layered, and of drills.
He was an American engineer. He wanted
comprehensive control of culture as if it were
acreage for the over-taking. Mineral rights.
But history's circulatory, and it's wet. It's
flexible, weird, and mysterious. Try to package
it, and you'll lose the magic. Impose upon
it, and it will flee like an Idaho mountain lion.
No, don't drill it, as if you were going
to set a charge, blast some ore. Receive
it easy like a storm, shrug and sway and stay
surprised by it, and you will have its way with you.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Ezra Pound wasn't much for trees--Wordsworth-weary,
I suppose. Couldn't see history in or through them.
Instead he thought of rocks, layered, and of drills.
He was an American engineer. He wanted
comprehensive control of culture as if it were
acreage for the over-taking. Mineral rights.
But history's circulatory, and it's wet. It's
flexible, weird, and mysterious. Try to package
it, and you'll lose the magic. Impose upon
it, and it will flee like an Idaho mountain lion.
No, don't drill it, as if you were going
to set a charge, blast some ore. Receive
it easy like a storm, shrug and sway and stay
surprised by it, and you will have its way with you.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Weary of Movie Acting
Sometimes I get fed up
with the "great" acting
movie-actors enact.
I watch a scene,
and I think, "These
are famous people
doing something
for which they're
famous." I look
at the make-up,
the mannerisms,
the evidence
that the director
has had to suck up
to the celebrity.
I don't give even
one fuck what
the alleged
"story" is about.
I see angles, noses,
lips. I listen
to the goddamned
dubbing. I see how
the famous actor
demanded better
lighting and lots
of money
on "the back end."
They are acting up a storm.
And I am weary.
And what do I do?
I go read a novel in
well worn paperback form.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
with the "great" acting
movie-actors enact.
I watch a scene,
and I think, "These
are famous people
doing something
for which they're
famous." I look
at the make-up,
the mannerisms,
the evidence
that the director
has had to suck up
to the celebrity.
I don't give even
one fuck what
the alleged
"story" is about.
I see angles, noses,
lips. I listen
to the goddamned
dubbing. I see how
the famous actor
demanded better
lighting and lots
of money
on "the back end."
They are acting up a storm.
And I am weary.
And what do I do?
I go read a novel in
well worn paperback form.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Voting Biblical Principles
Someone encouraged me
to vote for Biblical principles
in a recent election. I didn't
see any on the ballot.
Well, now, there was
this one thing about supporting
a bond to maintain bus-routes
in this city. I know how
working people have the Devil's
own time getting to and from
work, shops, family, and clinics.
Although Jesus Christ
never rode a bus, only
a donkey, I still figured
voting to pay to keep up
the bus-routes wasn't
anti-Biblical. Right?
The measure failed.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
to vote for Biblical principles
in a recent election. I didn't
see any on the ballot.
Well, now, there was
this one thing about supporting
a bond to maintain bus-routes
in this city. I know how
working people have the Devil's
own time getting to and from
work, shops, family, and clinics.
Although Jesus Christ
never rode a bus, only
a donkey, I still figured
voting to pay to keep up
the bus-routes wasn't
anti-Biblical. Right?
The measure failed.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
Monday, November 12, 2012
Today I Am Sure
Today I am sure
most of the poetry
written by William Blake
is unnecessarily complicated
and more or less
a pain in the ass.
Today I am sure
that life is the art
of delaying what is
inevitable and
accelerating
what is recalcitrant.
Today I am sure
that greed
is a disorder,
an addiction that blinds
the sufferer
and corrodes society.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
most of the poetry
written by William Blake
is unnecessarily complicated
and more or less
a pain in the ass.
Today I am sure
that life is the art
of delaying what is
inevitable and
accelerating
what is recalcitrant.
Today I am sure
that greed
is a disorder,
an addiction that blinds
the sufferer
and corrodes society.
Copyright 2012 Hans Ostrom
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