| || hover, shiny, mishap, bodily, by his "sir" name.
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.
8 comments:
Nineteen-forty-seven, in a sleepy little town,
A shiny flying saucer came a-crashing down!
The Army Air Force brass came on close behind
To keep this little mishap shrouded in a blind.
A general took charge. (They all called him "Sir,"
What his surname was, locals later were unsure.)
He had the hulk hauled away. Behind on the ground
Ragged bits of mylar were all that could be found.
Ask the Roswell folks of the general and his men,
They'll mention large dark eyes and grayish skin.
And how their bodies seemed extraordinarily thin.
Their hauler seemed to hover, and was never seen again.
A neat summing-up of the Roswell affair, Owen, with a sweet metric bounce! I can almost hear it set to music. Thank you!
All the recent moon-landing reminders on TV & other media put me in mind of my younger son's creative fun over space launches. He used to love every news video of launching rockets, even when he was only four or five. He had toy rockets and would "fly" them upwards as high as he could reach, making whooshing sounds to match those on the television.
But he really got obsessive in the mid-'80s when it was the Russians' turn to launch their modular space station. He ran around the living room with a different part in each hand, singing his own soundtrack as he jammed one part into the other.
He got pretty loud sometimes, and I would have to speak up to get him to cool it.
"Why this 'Mir' game?!" I'd demand.
He'd quiet for a while, but he usually resumed after a bit, and I really hadn't the heart to discourage him. He had great fun.
~ OMK
The jumble gave me few difficulties. Had to write out the letters for the third clue and stare at it for a bit, but then it came. And with all the letters there and knowing what the pun part of the solution must be, that came quickly too. Clever, I thought.
I like the poem very much. It reads smoothly and the story starts out seeming to go one way and then changes to another -- I really love your twists.
((Can you imagine a million people running into Area 51? What a concept! But alas for them, it was only a pipedream. The real Air Force would be ready to repel any "invaders".)
Actually, pipedream was the wrong word; massive silly joke would be better. I read this morning that it's now up to 1.4 million people planning to go, ha ha.
I had to come to Owen's poem to figure out the third word, and there it was. But still had trouble with the solution, which turned out to be clever. Loved the story about your son's enthusiasm as a little boy, Ol'Man Keith. Have a good day, everybody.
Ok, OMK, call me a cynic or whatever seems appropriate, but my impression is that the only part of your story that is possibly true is the beginning, and I kind of doubt that. The last part seems clearly to be the lead up to your daily rhyme. I
So strike me dead if I'm wrong. Or not, lol.
Lost my post. Same problem as Sandy, #3
WC
Sandy ~
LOL! - Just because you're a cynic doesn't mean you're wrong.
~ OMK
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