Talking Edgar Allan Poe In Off The Ledge

We all love Edgar Allan Poe, it’s just that sometimes he tends to get a bit carried away!  Oh great, here he comes. Now whatever you do, please, please don’t get him started on Annabel Lee . . . too late!  Now you’ve gone and done it!

“What?  Did somebody say Annabel Lee?  It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea . . . “

Just for future reference, Edgar, saying many and many is the same thing as saying many – I know you’re into writing so I thought I’d pass that along.

“That a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee”

No, I don’t know her, but I have heard of her.

“And this maiden she lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me”

Uh . . . OOOKAAY . . .

“I was a child and she was a child in this kingdom by the sea”

Really?  Google says you were 27 and she was 14, but nevermind, keep going.

“But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee”

Shouldn’t it be: “My Annabel Lee and I”?

“And this was the reason that long ago in this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling my beautiful Annabel Lee”

So you’re telling me the wind was jealous of you and Annabel Lee?  Oh something’s blowing alright, Edgar, but I’d have to say it probably involves smoke, a skirt and the direction of up — if you know what I mean.

“So that her high-born kinsmen came and bore her away from me”

Uh, I have a feeling those high-born kinsmen were her parents, and  if they were smart, they  didn’t let her play with you anymore.

“To shut her up in a sepulchre, in the kingdom by the sea”

Hold on a sec while I google sepulcher  . . . Let’s see . . . it say s a small room or monument where a dead person is laid . . . WHAT?  Am I missing something here?

“That the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee”

Hold on!  Whoa!   OK, I don’t like the direction this is going in.  I’m calling your psychiatrist.

“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams”

It’s too late to be all cheery now, just  get in the car, Edgar.

“Oh, the beautiful, Annabel Lee; and the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee and so all the night tide, I lay down by the tide  . . .”

Yeah sure, Edgar.  You just keeeep telling yourself that.   Watch your head . . . that’s right. What’s that Edgar?  Where are we going?  We’re just going for a drive, Edgar . . . it’ll be fun!

“Oh my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, in the sepulchre there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea . . .”

Listen, Edgar, why don’t I see if I can find a happy song on the radio . . . until we get there . . . not that we’re going to the Institute . . . no-no, we’re just going wherever the jealous wind blows us. . . it’ll be fun!

The Tragically Beautiful Annabel Lee!

 

And there you have it, Dear Readers,  yet another futile attempt by this blog to cheer up literature’s most gloomy Gus, Edgar Allan Poe.

Until next time . . . I love you

Let’s Just Say It’s Friday and Be Done With it!

Hello Dear Readers!  Welcome to National Slacker Day.  The national holiday I just made up!  And in observance of National Slacker Day I am rerunning a post that I wrote when it obviously wasn‘t National Slacker Day.  I hope you enjoy this sampling from the archives entitled:

How to Drink A Castor Oil Sandwich in 1949

I found this little 1949 booklet at the thrift store the other day.

Apparently, back in 1949, before Facebook was invented, people had to make friends with whomever (or whatever) they could scrape up.

Alright fine, but how hard up does a person have to be to count Pure Bicarbonate of Soda as one of their friends?

I’m talking to you people of 1949! What were you thinking making Bicarbonate of Soda your friend?  Hello?  . . . ok, fine don’t answer me.

I’ll make something up and say it’s true. That’s what you get for ignoring me!

Let’s start by pretending we live in 1949.  What else were you doing today anyway. (I mean besides pretending to be working).

As you know, the first thing to do when pretending anything is to rush over to Google and start asking a lot of unnecessary questions:

What was the cost of a first class stamp in 1949?   

Google says: $.03


Who was the President of the United States in 1949?

Google says: “Harry S. Truman”


Why did Newfoundland join the Canada Confederation?   

Google says: “You’re joking right?”

How do you write 1949 in Roman Numerals?  

Google says: “Get outta here kid, ya bother me.”

Well apparently Google got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. So let’s try to conjure up 1949 by using this picture from 1951 that I found in my baby book and subtracting 2 years from it in our minds.

Checking to see if limbs are operable
Me and Mom (I’m on the right)

As you can see from this picture of me and Mom, 1949 was rather bleak, stark and dark. On the upside, they did have doilies (one) and lamps (one) and a window (one).

And even though you don’t see any “friends” in this picture, I’ll bet you anything if you were to go into the kitchen, you would have found Mom’s besty, Pure Bicarbonate of Soda, relaxing on the kitchen shelf, at the ready for Mom should she suddenly need Dear ol’ Carby.

OK, now that our minds are firmly ensconced in 1949, let’s just pretend something came up, and we are going to need our new BFF, Dear ol’ Carby, to come to the rescue.

Let’s say we were in need of . . . oh I don’t know maybe a . . . CASTER OIL SANDWICH?

Apparently back in 1949, there was some weirdness going on. First, that a Caster Oil Sandwich was actually on any menu at all, and second, that  it was a sandwich  you were suppose to :“Drink while effervescing.” 

I don’t know about you, but I rarely effervesce when I drink sandwiches . . . but that’s just me.

What’s say we toddle back  over to Google, shall we?  And let’s ask Google why anybody would want to drink a Caster oil Sandwich:

Under what circumstances would someone drink a Caster oil Sandwich?

Google says: “Get outta here kid, you bother me!”

Fine be that way!

If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen with Dear ol’ Carby preparing a Caster oil Sandwich for our new besty, Goog.

Eww!

Until next time . . . I love you

Talking Edgar Allan Poe In Off The Ledge

“What?  Did somebody say Annabel Lee?”

We all love Edgar Allan Poe, it’s just that sometimes he tends to get a bit carried away!  And please, please don’t get him started on Annabel Lee . . . too late!  Now you’ve gone and done it!

It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea

Just for future reference, Edgar, saying many and many is the same thing as saying many – I know you’re into writing so I thought I’d pass that along.

That a maiden there lived whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee

No, I don’t know her, but I have heard of her.

And this maiden she lived with no other thought, than to love and be loved by me

Uh . . . OOOKAAY . . .

I was a child and she was a child in this kingdom by the sea

Really?  Google says you were 27 and she was 14, but nevermind, keep going.

But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee

Shouldn’t it be: “My Annabel Lee and I”?

And this was the reason that long ago in this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling my beautiful Annabel Lee

So you’re telling me the wind was jealous of you and Annabel Lee?  Oh something’s blowing alright, Edgar, but I’d have to say it probably involves smoke, a skirt and the direction of up — if you know what I mean.

So that her high-born kinsmen came and bore her away from me

Uh, I have a feeling those high-born kinsmen were her parents, and  if they were smart, they  didn’t let her play with you anymore.

To shut her up in a sepulchre, in the kingdom by the sea

Hold on a sec while I google that  . . . Let’s see . . . it say s a small room or monument where a dead person is laid . . . WHAT?  What’d I miss?

That the wind came out of the cloud by night, chilling and killing my Annabel Lee

Hold on!  Whoa!   OK, I don’t like the direction this is going in.  I’m calling your psychiatrist.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

It’s too late to be all cheery now, just  get in the car, Edgar.

Oh, the beautiful, Annabel Lee; and the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee and so all the night tide, I lay down by the tide  . . .

Yeah sure, Edgar.  You just keeeep telling yourself that.   Watch your head . . . that’s right. What?  Where are we going?  We’re just going for a drive, Edgar . . . it’ll be fun!

Oh my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, in the sepulchre there by the sea, in her tomb by the sounding sea . . .

Hey I know . . . why don’t I see if I can find a happy song on the radio . . . until we get there . . . not that we’re going to the Institute . . . no-no, we’re just going wherever the jealous wind blows us. . . it’ll be fun!

The Tragically Beautiful Annabel Lee!

Until next time . . . I love you