Three is a magic number. Somewhere in that ancient mystic trinity you get three, ’cause it’s a magic number. The past, present, the future. Faith, hope and charity. The heart, brain and body give you three. A man and a woman have a baby. There were three in the family, it’s a magic number.
–Paraphrased from Bob Dorough, writer for Schoolhouse Rock!

I happened upon this very lengthy but very good article about the editing and rewriting of old children’s classics. ( you have to sit through a lame ad to get the day pass to read the whole thing, but it’s worth the wait )It is nothing new. In my youth I knowingly read editions of Frankenstein, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Red Pony, all which were edited or abridged. Looking back, it is as if I never read them at all. When I read Farenheit 451, Ray wrote an afterword condemning the act of condensing or editing literary works. His notion, it was not much different than what his “firemen” were up to.

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It’s poetry time again, kiddies. Garrrison reads Victor W. Pearn’sReceiving.

This is a rabbit with a pancake on its head.
Oolong

Back again by popular demand.

The Pledge of Allegiance is under Supreme Court scrutiny.

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Tonight after English Club I hopped on ’round the corner to seeAnnamateur, my buddy Anna Maria’s trio. I’ve known her since the time I studied at the conservatory here in Dresden. She has one of the best voices I have ever heard up close, and a captivating stage presence. The club was packed with people, going all the way back to the door. Rock on, Anna Mari!

I found this story from the Guardian. Early April Fools? Apparently not.

Violinists at a German orchestra are suing for a pay rise on the grounds that they play many more notes per concert than their musical colleagues - a litigation that the orchestra's director yesterday called "absurd".

Paid by the note? That’s like an old music school joke. Below are a few
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As I was sitting at a bar alone tonight, waiting for my friends to arrive, I let my mind wander. At one point I remembered a story told by a journalist back in ought one. Coincidentally, I found out later, he has written a little recap on the affair here.

...I had the chance to shake Bush's hand, I said,
"Mr. President, I'm very disappointed in your work so far. I hope you
only serve four years." His smiling response was swift: "Who cares what
you think?"

After I read the piece, it prompted me to remember the last time I shook hands with a president. That would be back in `97, when I graduated. I shook the hand of the president of the University as I received my diploma. As I did so, I whispered in his ear, “convocation sucks.” Not missing a beat, he grinned and said “sorry!”

Happy Birthday to Akira Kurosawa, director of Yo Jimbo (above), Rashomon, The Seven Samurai, the basis for the Magnificent Seven, and Ran, which retells the story of King Lear.

He’s one of my favorite directors, you might have guessed.

This entry goes out to the late Kenneth Koch, who among other things wrote the selection below, “Permanently”.

It’s a charming Schoolhouse Rock! type homage to the parts of speech, leading up to an earth-moving conclusion:

You have enchanted me with a single kiss
Which can never be undone
Until the destruction of language.

Which gives me the willies.
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How long? Not long, ‘cuz what you reap is what you sow.

The new class today was a real hoot. I must have been so excited that I wasn’t getting enough oxygen to the brain apparently. So let’s recap the different forms of to fly just to be on the safe side:

I fly, you fly, he flies (not flys 8-o) they fly; fly, flew (not flied), has flown.

There was an incredible rainbow out this afternoon. It was so bright it had double arcs, the lower one so brilliant that as it spanned the Elba (from the bridge at least) you could almost hear how it launched out of the heath (with a harp sound) and pounded into the middle of Striesen with a loud bonk(?).