Certain classic American utterances could frankly use some punching up. I’ve appointed myself history’s public relations guy, with the following results. We know what they really said; here’s what they might have said:
Washington’s farewell to his troops: “And may this day herald the end of those #*@^ powdered wigs. I hate those things.”
Lindbergh in Paris: “When they make a movie, could Jimmy Stewart play me? Course he’d have to dye his hair.” (Note: that casting did occur for the movie Spirit of St. Louis with Mr. Stewart a truly inauthentic blonde.)
Neil Armstrong on the moon: “They wrote something for me to say, but frankly I hate scripted historic utterances. Actually I’m just up here to, you know, fool around. There’s really not much to do. It’s not like you can order a pizza.”
Rosa Parks in Montgomery: “Hell no, I’m not moving to the back. It’s full of exhaust fumes.”
Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) in Casablanca: “Play it Sam. Play the German National Anthem.”
William Faulkner accepting the Nobel Prize in Oslo: “And to those geezers and codgers sitting around the square in Oxford saying I’d never amount to anything…. nyah nyah nyah.”
General Anthony McAuliffe at Bastogne: “Tell the Germans I said nuts and then did an impromptu samba around headquarters. By the way, Georgie Patton is coming, right?”
Bert Parks reflecting on the Miss America Pageant: “Face it, it hasn’t been the same since I left. It was never about the girls.”
General Eisenhower on D-Day: “Yesterday, June 5, 1944, one of the reporters asked me, ‘Hey Ike, anything on for tomorrow?’ I told him yeah, right Pal, we’re invading Europe. He told me his readers demanded a serious answer.”
Stephen A. Douglas in Illinois: “So anyway, Abe wants to go around the state in a series of debates. Is he out of his rail-splitting mind? I’ll cream him.” (Note: Douglas did win the Senate seat, but the debates were nevertheless Lincoln’s ticket to the 1860 presidential nomination.)
General Douglas MacArthur upon his return to the Philippines: “Ok I’m back. Got my pants legs all wet walking ashore. Could one of you guys get me some dry socks?”
Mahatma Gandhi during his fasting period: “I don’t want to obsess over this thing. Maybe just a club sandwich and some iced tea.”
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
This column will literally knock you out
Okay, so it won’t literally knock anyone out; only figuratively. Thus is the adverb ‘literally’ misapplied.
Take Sen. Claire McCaskill of Missouri who spoke as follows on MSNBC: “Nine or ten years ago a dead frog could get credit. Literally.”
One certainly sees her point about the credit market, as vivified by the adverb. So, if a dead frog could literally get credit, the scenario might have gone something like this:
The loan officer was aghast. “What do you mean he wants credit?”
“A home loan,” explained the visitor.
“But… he’s a frog.”
“I’m speaking for him.”
“But he’s dead.”
“Yeah, he croaked.”
“What’s his occupation?”
“Actually he avoids all gigs. Just hangs around his pad.”
The loan officer rolled his eyes. “Is this an honest portrayal?”
“Yes. Warts and all.”
“Very impressive. Would $50,000 at 4 percent be satisfactory?”
•••••
A few more everyday uses of ‘literally:’
“He literally hit the ceiling!” (Yep, climbed up a ladder and punched the plaster.)
“She literally blew her top.” (What a mess; brains everywhere.)
“I literally could have strangled him.” One hopes this is a figurative usage but who knows? Can’t you hear Judge Judy from the bench? “You literally strangled him? Why’s he still alive?”
“Okay, not literally.”
“You’re free to go but watch those syntax.”
Judge Judy is to jurisprudence what Ronald McDonald is to cuisine. That woman’s voice literally gives me the willies.
Take Sen. Claire McCaskill of Missouri who spoke as follows on MSNBC: “Nine or ten years ago a dead frog could get credit. Literally.”
One certainly sees her point about the credit market, as vivified by the adverb. So, if a dead frog could literally get credit, the scenario might have gone something like this:
The loan officer was aghast. “What do you mean he wants credit?”
“A home loan,” explained the visitor.
“But… he’s a frog.”
“I’m speaking for him.”
“But he’s dead.”
“Yeah, he croaked.”
“What’s his occupation?”
“Actually he avoids all gigs. Just hangs around his pad.”
The loan officer rolled his eyes. “Is this an honest portrayal?”
“Yes. Warts and all.”
“Very impressive. Would $50,000 at 4 percent be satisfactory?”
•••••
A few more everyday uses of ‘literally:’
“He literally hit the ceiling!” (Yep, climbed up a ladder and punched the plaster.)
“She literally blew her top.” (What a mess; brains everywhere.)
“I literally could have strangled him.” One hopes this is a figurative usage but who knows? Can’t you hear Judge Judy from the bench? “You literally strangled him? Why’s he still alive?”
“Okay, not literally.”
“You’re free to go but watch those syntax.”
Judge Judy is to jurisprudence what Ronald McDonald is to cuisine. That woman’s voice literally gives me the willies.
Monday, February 27, 2012
How to annoy your friends with geography
How to annoy your friends with geography
You’ll want to one-up your pals with this smug collection of global oddities. They’re also great for winning bar bets in the better bars:
Fact: If you boarded an airplane at Miami, Fl., and flew 1,200 miles due south, you’d be over the Pacific Coast.
Explanation: Check it on a globe. You’d pass over the Isthmus of Panama. Next landfall: Antarctica.
•••••
Fact: The capital city of an inland U.S. state lies further west than Los Angeles.
Explanation: It’s Carson City, Nv.
•••••
Fact: The rain in Spain does not fall mainly in the plain.
Explanation: This is what happens when songwriters practice meteorology. Spain’s rainiest area is its northern Atlantic coast, the aptly named Costa Verde.
•••••
Fact: New York is the wildest state east of the Mississippi.
Explanation: New York State contains vast tracts of wilderness acreage, especially in the Adirondack region.
•••••
Fact: Adolph Hitler owned 9,000 acres of land in the American west.
Explanation: It was pastureland in the State of Colorado.
•••••
Fact: Charles Lindbergh was not the first man to fly the Atlantic.
Explanation: A number of others – mostly military men – did it prior to Lindbergh’s 1927 crossing. Lindy was the first to fly the Atlantic solo.
•••••
Fact: One of North America’s best-known natural phenomena is the result of a lake 570 feet above sea level emptying into another lake 245 feet above sea level.
Explanation: Thus producing Niagara Falls. (The Niagara River connects the two lakes.)
•••••
Fact: The easternmost, westernmost and northernmost points in the U.S. are all found in the same state.
Explanation: The state is Alaska, easternmost in that the tip of its Aleutian chain extends across the line that separates east from west.
•••••
Fact: One of the contiguous 48 states has approximately one-third of its land area separated by water from the other two-thirds.
Explanation: The state is Michigan. The water gap between the upper and lower peninsulas is bridged at the Straits of Mackinac.
•••••
Fact: The earth is not round.
Explanation: The earth is a spheroid rather than a perfect sphere. It flattens slightly at both poles and bulges slightly at the equator. (Note: This is a specious point, the recitation of which will not win you any friends.)
•••••
Fact: The world’s largest island was given its name as part of a real estate con job.
Explanation: The Danish government gave Greenland its tempting but inaccurate name in order to attract settlers.
•••••
Fact: The northernmost of the 48 adjacent states is not Maine.
Explanation: It’s Minnesota, whose northernmost point is a detached bit of land northwest of Lake of the Woods.
•••••
Fact: In 1926, it was possible to cross the Atlantic Ocean using scheduled, non-surface, commercial transportation.
Explanation: By dirigible. Though the Hindenburg disaster quashed airship travel, veterans of successful trips deemed them pleasant and relaxing.
•••••
Thanks for reading with us today. Please return your tray tables to their original upright position. This would probably entail ripping them out and taking them back to the factory, but never mind that.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Bad attitude about morning television
All the networks and cable news outlets have a weekday morning show dispensing wake-up potpourri between 5 and 9 a.m. – an amalgam of hard news and ditsy features of the now-Brian-will-go-outside-and-wrestle-a-gator variety. The hosts sport what the networks like to call ‘a morning personality’: chipper, wide-awake and maybe just a little goofy.
Scenes I’d like to see on A.M. TV
Scene One: Jungle Bob comes on-set with his animal du jour, a Burmese ferret. Uh oh, the ferret’s loose. He’s trying to bite a cameraman. Now he’s after Jungle Bob who seems unconcerned: “Nothing to worry about. He’s more scared than aggressive. OW! DAMMIT!” An assistant grapples the gnashing ferret as J. Bob hobbles to a seat: “I’m okay, I’m okay. He’s not used to television.” Oh, really? We thought he had a union card.
••••••••
Scene Two: The host has been teasing an upcoming segment for fully an hour. “You’ll want to stay tuned. We’ve learned that the world is coming to an end but first here’s homemaker Betty Kitchens with her recipe for noodle casserole.” Chirps Betty, “It’s perfect for those pre-apocalypse parties. Festive but not too fussy.”
••••••••
Scene Three: Matt Lauer interviews me.
MATT: What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?
ALAN: Oh, well let me think. Probably the Lindbergh kidnapping.
MATT: Very funny. But we’re hearing that you’ve done bad things.
ALAN: Everybody’s done bad things.
MATT: You admit it! What one factor turned you into a bad person?
ALAN: Sometimes I fantasize about strangling journalists.
MATT: You’d like to strangle me, wouldn’t you?
ALAN: (nodding) You, Bill O’Reilly, Nancy Grace. Look, I’m confused. In the green room everyone was nice to me and there were pastries and juice. Then the lights go up and you turn into a werewolf.
MATT: That’s my job.
ALAN: Character assassination?
MATT: Finding the truth.
ALAN: The truth isn’t all bad. You have a rotten attitude.
MATT: So do you, pal. Listen, you want to go for martinis later?
••••••••
Scene Four: Stoner the Weather Guy finally goes over the top. “I’m a serious journalist, not some weather vane rooster on top of a barn. I hate the weather – all of it! You think it’s some kind of picnic, standing outside in a typhoon? I hate the weather!... No, no, leave me alone.” And they haul him away, ultimately to be with Willard Scott in a place where the sun always shines.
Scenes I’d like to see on A.M. TV
Scene One: Jungle Bob comes on-set with his animal du jour, a Burmese ferret. Uh oh, the ferret’s loose. He’s trying to bite a cameraman. Now he’s after Jungle Bob who seems unconcerned: “Nothing to worry about. He’s more scared than aggressive. OW! DAMMIT!” An assistant grapples the gnashing ferret as J. Bob hobbles to a seat: “I’m okay, I’m okay. He’s not used to television.” Oh, really? We thought he had a union card.
••••••••
Scene Two: The host has been teasing an upcoming segment for fully an hour. “You’ll want to stay tuned. We’ve learned that the world is coming to an end but first here’s homemaker Betty Kitchens with her recipe for noodle casserole.” Chirps Betty, “It’s perfect for those pre-apocalypse parties. Festive but not too fussy.”
••••••••
Scene Three: Matt Lauer interviews me.
MATT: What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?
ALAN: Oh, well let me think. Probably the Lindbergh kidnapping.
MATT: Very funny. But we’re hearing that you’ve done bad things.
ALAN: Everybody’s done bad things.
MATT: You admit it! What one factor turned you into a bad person?
ALAN: Sometimes I fantasize about strangling journalists.
MATT: You’d like to strangle me, wouldn’t you?
ALAN: (nodding) You, Bill O’Reilly, Nancy Grace. Look, I’m confused. In the green room everyone was nice to me and there were pastries and juice. Then the lights go up and you turn into a werewolf.
MATT: That’s my job.
ALAN: Character assassination?
MATT: Finding the truth.
ALAN: The truth isn’t all bad. You have a rotten attitude.
MATT: So do you, pal. Listen, you want to go for martinis later?
••••••••
Scene Four: Stoner the Weather Guy finally goes over the top. “I’m a serious journalist, not some weather vane rooster on top of a barn. I hate the weather – all of it! You think it’s some kind of picnic, standing outside in a typhoon? I hate the weather!... No, no, leave me alone.” And they haul him away, ultimately to be with Willard Scott in a place where the sun always shines.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Striving for humbleness – and falling short
Meek? The faith expects me to be meek? Let’s take a quick look at the U.S. culture: The American Dream; the Greatest Generation; Super everything; megachurches. America is all superlatives! And I’m supposed to be meek?
Maybe humility is a more accessible virtue. I’ll try humility. Why? Because I’m tired of being aggressive/assertive/opportunistic/upwardly mobile in panting pursuit of success. (By the way, The American Dream is also The Swiss Dream.)
Maybe there’s another measure of success. I sense it sometimes when I lost an argument to a civilized adversary. Oddly, I come away enhanced. I can now say, “Valid point,” to a worthy opponent. I can even say, “I don’t know,” and it’s a relief to argue not to win but to learn.
Herewith a few phrases that have taken my conversation halfway to humble:
“On the other hand” – an irresistibly facile transition. Acknowledges point A while opening the curtain to point B.
•••
“A C-note for your thoughts.” – Quiet people can be irritating. It’s fine to be a person of few words, but in social situations the idea is to express oneself, i.e. talk. Reticent speakers need to be drawn out, like butter. Occasionally you meet one who doesn’t want to be drawn out and they just glare at you. Or, as one clever introvert put it, “I’m not quiet; I’m just dull.”
•••
“Credit where credit is due.” – Usually it’s me to whom the credit is due and I am loath to give it to anyone else. This is probably a character flaw.
•••
“I hate to use the R word, but I was wrong.” It’s tricky to be humble and witty at the same time. If this little joke is unappreciated, you may have fallen in with dullards.
•••
“I see your point.” – A tidy conversational confection that acknowledges without committing. Excellent as a response to “Shut up.”
•••
“Got time for a cup of coffee?” – Always say yes. If it doesn’t go well, guzzle the coffee and leave. But I’ve watched difficult people become engaging under this premise. Please, never tell anyone in word or manner, “I don’t have time for you.”
•••
So how about humility’s underlying assumption: that I’m no better than anybody else. Recently I was talking to a prison inmate and I recall thinking that I’m a better person than he by any objective standard ever devised. On the other hand he was forbearing and contrite and I arrogant. And I went away musing over Kipling’s hymn to classlessness, “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”
And I realized that humility was a thing of the spirit and had little to do with what one had or had not achieved. So anyway, I’m not humble now and may never be. It is, however, worth a try.
[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, www.essentialba.com]
Maybe humility is a more accessible virtue. I’ll try humility. Why? Because I’m tired of being aggressive/assertive/opportunistic/upwardly mobile in panting pursuit of success. (By the way, The American Dream is also The Swiss Dream.)
Maybe there’s another measure of success. I sense it sometimes when I lost an argument to a civilized adversary. Oddly, I come away enhanced. I can now say, “Valid point,” to a worthy opponent. I can even say, “I don’t know,” and it’s a relief to argue not to win but to learn.
Herewith a few phrases that have taken my conversation halfway to humble:
“On the other hand” – an irresistibly facile transition. Acknowledges point A while opening the curtain to point B.
•••
“A C-note for your thoughts.” – Quiet people can be irritating. It’s fine to be a person of few words, but in social situations the idea is to express oneself, i.e. talk. Reticent speakers need to be drawn out, like butter. Occasionally you meet one who doesn’t want to be drawn out and they just glare at you. Or, as one clever introvert put it, “I’m not quiet; I’m just dull.”
•••
“Credit where credit is due.” – Usually it’s me to whom the credit is due and I am loath to give it to anyone else. This is probably a character flaw.
•••
“I hate to use the R word, but I was wrong.” It’s tricky to be humble and witty at the same time. If this little joke is unappreciated, you may have fallen in with dullards.
•••
“I see your point.” – A tidy conversational confection that acknowledges without committing. Excellent as a response to “Shut up.”
•••
“Got time for a cup of coffee?” – Always say yes. If it doesn’t go well, guzzle the coffee and leave. But I’ve watched difficult people become engaging under this premise. Please, never tell anyone in word or manner, “I don’t have time for you.”
•••
So how about humility’s underlying assumption: that I’m no better than anybody else. Recently I was talking to a prison inmate and I recall thinking that I’m a better person than he by any objective standard ever devised. On the other hand he was forbearing and contrite and I arrogant. And I went away musing over Kipling’s hymn to classlessness, “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”
And I realized that humility was a thing of the spirit and had little to do with what one had or had not achieved. So anyway, I’m not humble now and may never be. It is, however, worth a try.
[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, www.essentialba.com]
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Prejudices I enjoy too much to give up
Prejudices are by no means rational, or merit-based, or well thought out. Yet everyone has them. The psyche embraces and coddles thoughts that repel the rational mind.
The way to deal with prejudices is to acknowledge them, so here’s a list of mine. Why seek professional help when you can psychoanalyze yourself?
Pop music – Lady Gaga should be Lady Googoo to emphasize the infantilism of pop music. And yet when I think about it rationally I have to concede that pop music brings joy to millions. So I don’t think about it rationally. ‘Gaga’ is hardly a rational concept.
Clothing as advertising – I do not wish to wear shirts that are emblazoned with corporate slogans or logos. Must I not only carry Nike’s logo but also pay for the privilege? Let them pay me! I’ve been told that this is a stupid point on which to take a stand. Impractical maybe, but it isn’t stupid to prejudge those who would manipulate you for profit.
Soccer – I keep wishing that someone would just grab the ball and run with it. This viewpoint defies the sensibilities of virtually the entire world, and yet I can’t dispel it.
Fruitcake – It’s festive and one appreciates the spirit of it. But it tastes funny. The logical response is simply not to eat fruitcake, however I can’t stand to hear others extol it. I veer close to lunacy on this point.
Milton’s Paradise Lost – I believe people read Paradise Lost because they are forced to do so. On the other hand, what is education except forcing students to do things they don’t want to, albeit for constructive reasons? Okay, but I still don’t like Paradise Lost.
Hippies – I know they’re supposed to be refreshingly free-spirited. But they call one another ‘man’ and ‘dude.’
Odd names – The chairman of the Republican National Committee is named Reince Priebus. I mean come on; if your name is Priebus, resist the temptation to name your son Reince. And if you have a difficult name, please forbear if others misspell it. I was filling out a form for a kid named Sean, who indignantly informed me that it was spelled Shawn. Like I care.
Madonna – The right to profitable sluttery does not include mocking religious icons. “Madonna” indeed. Friends suggest that I stop worrying about pop musicians and concentrate on my own behavior. This is a logical suggestion; prejudices defy logic.
The French – Sarkozy seems like a regular guy and I’m slowly warming toward the French. In fact, I hereby offer to remove them from this list if they’ll discontinue service charges in Montmartre nightclubs. Prejudices aren’t admirable but they also aren’t permanent.
[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, www.essentialba.com]
The way to deal with prejudices is to acknowledge them, so here’s a list of mine. Why seek professional help when you can psychoanalyze yourself?
Pop music – Lady Gaga should be Lady Googoo to emphasize the infantilism of pop music. And yet when I think about it rationally I have to concede that pop music brings joy to millions. So I don’t think about it rationally. ‘Gaga’ is hardly a rational concept.
Clothing as advertising – I do not wish to wear shirts that are emblazoned with corporate slogans or logos. Must I not only carry Nike’s logo but also pay for the privilege? Let them pay me! I’ve been told that this is a stupid point on which to take a stand. Impractical maybe, but it isn’t stupid to prejudge those who would manipulate you for profit.
Soccer – I keep wishing that someone would just grab the ball and run with it. This viewpoint defies the sensibilities of virtually the entire world, and yet I can’t dispel it.
Fruitcake – It’s festive and one appreciates the spirit of it. But it tastes funny. The logical response is simply not to eat fruitcake, however I can’t stand to hear others extol it. I veer close to lunacy on this point.
 |
| I believe people read Paradise Lost because they are forced to do so. |
Hippies – I know they’re supposed to be refreshingly free-spirited. But they call one another ‘man’ and ‘dude.’
Odd names – The chairman of the Republican National Committee is named Reince Priebus. I mean come on; if your name is Priebus, resist the temptation to name your son Reince. And if you have a difficult name, please forbear if others misspell it. I was filling out a form for a kid named Sean, who indignantly informed me that it was spelled Shawn. Like I care.
Madonna – The right to profitable sluttery does not include mocking religious icons. “Madonna” indeed. Friends suggest that I stop worrying about pop musicians and concentrate on my own behavior. This is a logical suggestion; prejudices defy logic.
The French – Sarkozy seems like a regular guy and I’m slowly warming toward the French. In fact, I hereby offer to remove them from this list if they’ll discontinue service charges in Montmartre nightclubs. Prejudices aren’t admirable but they also aren’t permanent.
[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, www.essentialba.com]
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Are romance novels silly?
Are romance novels silly?
Not at all. What the genre needs are some fresh ideas. Herewith excerpts from a few of my own storylines:
Bradley was all man except for his walk – a sort of waddle not unlike a penguin’s. Brittany was a pert young therapist specializing in peculiar walks. “You don’t look at all like a penguin,” she counseled. “But just in case, I’d avoid wearing a tuxedo.”
“It’s no use,” he lamented. “No woman could love a man who waddles.” Her heart went out to him. But how far?
•••••
Jeff’s idea of a weekend in Atlantic City frankly tempted Teresa. But could she leave the convent while her garden wasn’t fully bloomed?
•••••
Raellen was the belle of the Redneck Riviera, betrothed to rich, respectable Hatton Fiske. But when rakehell race driver Monk Varney rear-ended her truck, she saw it for what it was – his pathetic attempt to meet cute.
•••••
Gorilla-Louise Maxwell hated her name, and welcomed the chance to change it by marriage to handsome Dave Sinclair. “Soon I’ll be Gorilla-Louise Sinclair,” she beamed.
•••••
The stranger barged into Gwynneth’s Orient Express compartment and thrust a package into her hands. “Take this to Istanbul. Ask the first man you meet ‘Are you the Turk?’ If he says yes, give him the package.”
She looked into the stranger’s dark features. “Proper English ladies don’t go around saying ‘Are you the Turk?’ to strange men. Especially in Istanbul.”
He flashed his credentials. American CIA. Said she, “You’re certainly cheeky enough to be a spy.”
“Americans don’t have time for subtlety,” he whispered. “We’ll meet again.”
So saying, he leapt from the train. And the Orient Express thundered through the night.
•••••
After a week as private secretary to the mysterious Dillard of Yorkshire, Ann was contemplative as she walked the moors. Certainly the Dillard was felicitous of feature but his rumored eccentricity was yet to show itself.
Now here he came, bounding across the heath, after her with a butterfly net.
•••••
With Lance and Polly it was a battle of wits and wills. “What country is Calgary?” posited Lance.
“Canada,” she answered.
“Wrong. It’s not Cana-dah, it’s Cana-duh! You mispronounced it.”
“And I say it’s Cana-dah!”
“Duh.”
“Dah.”
“Duh! Come here, you vixen!” Stimulated beyond endurance, they melded into a full embrace, no longer caring about the dominion to the north.
[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, www.essentialba.com]
Not at all. What the genre needs are some fresh ideas. Herewith excerpts from a few of my own storylines:
Bradley was all man except for his walk – a sort of waddle not unlike a penguin’s. Brittany was a pert young therapist specializing in peculiar walks. “You don’t look at all like a penguin,” she counseled. “But just in case, I’d avoid wearing a tuxedo.”“It’s no use,” he lamented. “No woman could love a man who waddles.” Her heart went out to him. But how far?
•••••
Jeff’s idea of a weekend in Atlantic City frankly tempted Teresa. But could she leave the convent while her garden wasn’t fully bloomed?
•••••
Raellen was the belle of the Redneck Riviera, betrothed to rich, respectable Hatton Fiske. But when rakehell race driver Monk Varney rear-ended her truck, she saw it for what it was – his pathetic attempt to meet cute.
•••••
Gorilla-Louise Maxwell hated her name, and welcomed the chance to change it by marriage to handsome Dave Sinclair. “Soon I’ll be Gorilla-Louise Sinclair,” she beamed.
•••••
The stranger barged into Gwynneth’s Orient Express compartment and thrust a package into her hands. “Take this to Istanbul. Ask the first man you meet ‘Are you the Turk?’ If he says yes, give him the package.”
She looked into the stranger’s dark features. “Proper English ladies don’t go around saying ‘Are you the Turk?’ to strange men. Especially in Istanbul.”
He flashed his credentials. American CIA. Said she, “You’re certainly cheeky enough to be a spy.”
“Americans don’t have time for subtlety,” he whispered. “We’ll meet again.”
So saying, he leapt from the train. And the Orient Express thundered through the night.
•••••
After a week as private secretary to the mysterious Dillard of Yorkshire, Ann was contemplative as she walked the moors. Certainly the Dillard was felicitous of feature but his rumored eccentricity was yet to show itself.
Now here he came, bounding across the heath, after her with a butterfly net.
•••••
With Lance and Polly it was a battle of wits and wills. “What country is Calgary?” posited Lance.
“Canada,” she answered.
“Wrong. It’s not Cana-dah, it’s Cana-duh! You mispronounced it.”
“And I say it’s Cana-dah!”
“Duh.”
“Dah.”
“Duh! Come here, you vixen!” Stimulated beyond endurance, they melded into a full embrace, no longer caring about the dominion to the north.
[For more of the same, visit Alan’s blog, www.essentialba.com]
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