And they came from near and they came from far,
bearing gifts of frankincense, myrrh, and pumpkin pie.
Category: Love
“Blurtso and Harlan consider Christmas”
I suppose some people get depressed at Christmas, said Blurtso. And New Year’s, said Harlan. I suppose, said Blurtso, the memories make you reflect on what you do and don’t have. Too often, said Harlan, on what you don’t. Is there any more cocoa? said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan, plenty. And whipped cream? Yes, said Harlan, a full can.
“Blurtso envies Rudolph”
There’s always tomorrow
“Blurtso finds footsteps in the snow”
Hey… footsteps in the snow. I wonder where they’re going? Maybe I’ll follow them. Doo dee doo dee dee, dee dee dee dee doo… hey, what’s this? No more footsteps. I wonder what happened to the person who was making them? How can a person just vanish like that, and make no more tracks? Hmmm, maybe I’d better go see Harlan, and make sure he’s alright.
“Blurtso stands in the snow” (V)
Welcome to tonight’s discussion sponsored by “The Campus Institute of Political Seriousness for Enhanced Living in an Unenhanced World.” I’m your host, Jonathan Wellborn Truington III, and joining us this evening is Mr. Blurtso Lundif, a third-year diversity fellow at Harvard College, who has garnered attention in Cambridge as, “the donkey who stands in the snow.” Please tell us, Mr. Lundif, if you would, what is your opinion of the current political climate in our nation’s capital? The political climate? said Blurtso. Yes, said Mr. Truington. I don’t know anything about it, said Blurtso. Do you think, said Mr. Truington, that the politicians should all go stand in the snow? It couldn’t hurt, said Blurtso. And what have you accomplished, said Mr. Truington, by standing in the snow? Accomplished? said Blurtso. Yes, said Mr. Truington, what have you learned? I’ve learned to stand still, said Blurtso. To stand still? said Mr. Truington. Yes, said Blurtso. Anything else? said Mr. Truington. Isn’t that enough? said Blurtso. Well, said Mr. Truington, I suppose it is… and where exactly do you stand? Anywhere, said Blurtso. Anywhere? said Mr. Truington. Yes, said Blurtso, anywhere that’s snowy and cold. Is there something, said Mr. Truington, that inspires you to do it? Yes, said Blurtso, it’s compelling to stand in a public place that is empty… and where, if someone does appear, they move so quickly they may as well not be there. I see! said Mr. Truington, standing in the snow is an indictment of the modern world and its frenetic pace! Is it? said Blurtso. Does it bother you, said Mr. Truington, if others stand in the snow next to you? No, said Blurtso, as long as they don’t ask questions. Questions? said Mr. Truington. Yes, said Blurtso, about why I’m standing in the snow. Of course, said Mr. Truington, and apart from your scathing attack on people in a hurry, what other statements are you trying to make? Are you attempting to draw attention to a charitable cause? Are you trying to see how long you can stand before collapsing? No, said Blurtso, I go home whenever I want. And how do you know, said Mr. Truington, that it’s time to go home? As soon as I start walking, said Blurtso, I know it’s time to go. Remarkable, said Mr. Truington. Well, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it, neither ice, nor sleet, nor snow will stop this remarkable coed from making his stand. Please join us next week when our featured speaker will be Somerville’s own self-deprecating playwright and hairbrush salesman, Reverend Willy J. Loman.
“Blurtso announces the opening of his store”
My store is open! said Blurtso.
I don’t know, said Pablo, you may need more flags.
“Blurtso reads the morning paper”
Hmm, said Blurtso, licking his hoof and turning the page of the morning paper. Let’s see who did what when and why… love hate, give take, future past, slow fast, here there, then now, what when, who how, win lose, live die, settle choose, where why, fortune fame, pardon blame, smoke choke, weep joke, his hers, yours mine, rain shine, sad fine… rolls are fresh and the coffee’s free, la dee da dee da dee dee.
“Blurtso looks at the snow” (I)
I wonder how long it will snow? I wonder how much it is snowing in the mountains? I wonder if there is ice on the stream or if the snow is falling on the water? Snowflakes don’t last very long in the water. Unless there is a rock. Then the snowflakes can land on the rock. I wonder if snowflakes look for rocks in the stream? If I were a snowflake, I would look for a rock in the stream. It would be very sad if I were a snowflake on a rock, to watch all the other snowflakes land in the water. I think I would prefer to land in the water. Then I could be happy for all the snowflakes that landed on rocks.
“Blurtso considers mindfulness”
“Blurtso sings the donkey electric”
“Blurtso sings the donkey electric”
I sing the donkey electric!
A song of asses I sing, near and far!
Asses on hills, asses in fields, asses in herds,
more bountiful than the once-bountiful buffalo,
asses on land and asses at sea, asses short, skinny, fat and tall!
Multitudes of asses, spanning these star-spangled states!
I have perceived that to be an ass
is to be enough.
The ears of the ass are sacred, delicate,
twitching receptacles of sound,
assiduous antennae registering, recording all,
the hooves of the ass are no less
than the slippers of sultans
striding silken alfombras and seraglio stone,
the snout of the ass and his nostrils—a dual lamp
of Aladdin—inhaling flowery fragrance,
leading to wished-for fiestas of pumpkin pleasure,
the ass’s tail, though stumpy or small, and swatting flies,
is a palm fanning reclining Cleopatra,
his teeth, precious jade, are greened and polished
by the grass of a thousand fields,
his attentive eyes and friendly balance of features,
—courtly countenance and caryatid composure—
no less perfect than the visage of Helen.
Such asses I see, to the north and to the south!
From blistering bivouacs of winter
to blazing battalions of summer,
Patagonia to Peloponnese, Malibu to Manhattan,
Concord to Cambridge, every here
and every there, asses I see! Brown, grey,
yellow, red, purple, orange, azure asses!
Asses in other climes, asses in other times,
French, British, Australian, Arabian, Asian asses!
Eating every blade of grass, an ass!
Trampling every leaf that falls, a hoof!
Wading every stream that sings,
a snout, a snort, and a bray!
Hee-haw goes the jack!
Hee-haw goes the jenny!
Hee-haw go the judge and jury and judged!
Hee-haw from the dell! Hee-haw from the glen!
Hee-haw at mid-day! Hee-haw at the moon!
I see the resigned ass, bearing a load,
obeying the coax of his lord,
I see the boisterous ass braying,
in the barn, his bonny bray,
I see the amorous ass (of these there are many),
expressing exigencies by day and by night,
I see farms, fields, freeways and burgs,
each in their way, replete with asininities,
I see the asinine politician, professor, and poet,
each one leaving a brand on the asses of asses.
And the asses of yore, you ask, where are they
with their clip and clop on the stones of the street?
Les ânes voici! I say! Les ânes voici!
Heeding the whinny and neigh,
and ass-bray of the future!
What song do I sing? (you ask and I reply),
I sing the song of asses!
Certain, and stoic, and strong!
From each face an ass!
From each office, family, and farm!
Asses I sing! Avalanches of asses!
I sing! I sing a song of asses!
I sing the donkey electric!