| || thump, colic, unwise, packet, put me in coach.
Image from the Internet.
The opening poem contains all the words (or variations of them) from today's Jumble.
Comments are welcomed!
Do not explicitly reveal any of the actual answer words until after closing time, but embedding them surreptitiously in comment sentences is encouraged.
9 comments:
Easy clues, had to think for a second about the solution, but with all the letters, it came pretty quickly. Love it! Clever double meaning, I thought. Is it more a baseball or a football type cliche?
Surprised to be first today, and I hope everyone is ok.
Well, this really got out of hand.
I started to write a little jingle, but it turned into an epic.
Sometimes the piece takes over, like Frankenstein's creature, and it bosses you around.
Sorry to presume so much on your reading time.
One more thing. The original title for this was to be Poach Me an Egg. To respond to today's solution.
But you can see how inappropriate that would be.
A Cure for the Colic
"If you're an adult," I said, "you probably won't get colic,
the bellyache that picks on babies & kids.
You've a greater chance to be an alcoholic,
and end up in disgrace out on the skids.
"Still, it's wise to know a remedy in case
you're some kinda flatulent grown-up rarity
who goes around tooting as 'lactose piss-tolerant' these days.
Listen up, bud: I'll spare you a word, outta charity.
"I'll share one cure, to clear the air and help
you pull through. The Heimlich squeeze is out!
No jiggles or thumps will do, no mantra or yelp.
You gotta fight fire with fire; but here there's no doubt...
"it's gas. So you gotta carry a first aid packet
of matches in your pocket whenever you leave your home.
Without fail! In the event of attack, reach into your jacket
and grasp a match firmly when belly pains force you to moan.
Next, grit your teeth, try hard not to fart, and strike
your match on the nearest appropriate surface. Let it flare."
I paused as I reached & offered a match to light.
He glared and batted it away. "You don't dare!"
he said. "What kind of ass do you think I am?"
We exchanged fine words until he stalked away.
That was all of him, and I don't give a damn.
He took too much time on an otherwise pleasant day.
(Actually, I thought our encounter a prank
and my offer of matches surely must rank
among jollier theatrics absurd.
I smiled as I mused on his final word.
-- "I'll have none of those. None!"
when I fear I may have faintly heard
-- a distant explosion.)
~ OMK
Definitely an epic, OMK, but I'm not sure I fully get the joke. You were pulling his leg, right? Or maybe mine?
"What a Gas!"
That tummy poem made me jump
with surprise--what a thump!
Here's a verse about colic
that's simply a rollic.
It may be unwise
but it told no lies.
Made a pretty loud racket
with its jokes by the packet.
Is this poet a coach?
If so, you can poach.
We must never explain a joke. But I can assure you, Sandy, somebody's leg is definitely being pulled.
Come to think of it, this might not be far from the kind of cure our portly POTUS might tout.
And I agree with you -- This is one of the funniest solutions we've had in quite some time. Its meaning hinges entirely on a missing comma. But in the urgency of a game's final minutes, who has time for grammar?
As for its likely setting, I think just about any team sport would serve.
~ OMK
Here's the connection re.
Put Me in Coach
I thought the second word of yesterday's 4*4 was PROPS. I have no idea what I had for the first. I used scratch paper and threw it away.
OMK, classic example of starting a poem and letting it carry on and on. I've heard of "Fart lighting" but never saw it.
And in turn inspired Misty. Maybe after my nap I'll get some inspiration.
No prob with the solve today or should I say last night. However, I then went on to solve Tuesday and haven't figured the riddle-solution yet.
WC
Exactly, Wilbur. As I said, the thing takes on its own shape & weight, its "try-and-stop-me" life.
Before I added the parentheses, I was about to junk the whole thing.
But then I thought, no, this is instructive & should not be squirreled away.
So I went back and spanked its worst excesses, sanded its edges (well, most of 'em), and posted it as a marker of where I spent two or three hours before sleeping last night.
Sandy ~ Didn't mean to leave you hanging. I wasn't thinking in terms of a "joke"--except in the sense of "theatrics absurd." Keep the idea of fiction in mind, and that when I use the pronoun "I," I really don't mean that I--Keith--experienced this or anything like it. As a poem it's a ballad of a strange encounter.
Misty ~ Your 10 liner is what I should have done.
Short & sweet , and oh so neat!
~ OMK
Thank goodness we got your wonderful poem, Ol'Man Keith.
Let's hopefully look forward to Owen and Wilbur verses tomorrow as well.
Thanks again, Misty.
I'm posting this late at night, just for the record:
Errata
Line
No.
6 - "you're some kinda grown-up flatulent rarity,"
7 - "a-tootin' among the lactoze piss-tolerant these days"
10 - "to pull you through. The Heimlich squeeze is out!"
13 - "It's GAS. So you gotta carry a first-aid packet"
15 - "Don't fail! In the event of attack, reach into your jacket,"
16 - "then grasp a match firmly when tummy-tum forces a moan."
19 - "I reached for mine and offered him a match to light."
20 - "He glared at me & batted it back. 'You don't dare!'"
23 - "I whistled him off--and I didn't give a goddamn."
31 - "-- a distant 'exploz-shun'."
~ OMK
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