ouij

The cool morning dew
Now falls on the falling leaves:
Time for haiku. Write!

She's seen Russia; He's seen the Subcontinent--
She's incompetent-- He? just incontinent.

The elements of Negligence are these:
A duty, breached, that causes real harm.
Identify them all to earn your fees!

Tortfeasors all will tremble at the knees
If you can prove with all your wit and charm
Such paradigms of Negligence as these:

Those doctors who should cure you of disease--
Those bungling sawbones cutting the wrong arm--
(Identify them all to earn your fees!)

The landlord with the risky premises:
The mantrap masquerading as a farm:
The paragons of Negligence are these!

The drunken drivers--damn their expertise
At driving home with an unsteady arm:
Identify them all to earn your fees!

And so, young lawyer, just for a reprise:
A duty, breached, that causes real harm--
The elements of Negligence are these.
Identify them all, and earn your fees!

The more I think about unconscionability, the more I hear Ezra Pound reading Canto LXV:



Usura rusteth the chisel
It rusteth the craft and the craftsman
It gnaweth the thread in the loom
None learneth to weave gold in her pattern;
Azure hath a canker by usura; cramoisi is unbroidered
Emerald findeth no Memling

Usura slayeth the child in the womb
It stayeth the young man's courting
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom

CONTRA NATURAM

They have brought whores for Eleusis
Corpses are set to banquet

at behest of usura.


At the end of the recording, Pound scolds his listeners:

And so that you don't continually misunderstand, usury and interest are not the same thing. Usury is a charge made for the use of money, regardless of production, and often regardless even of the possibilities of production..

Our Galaxy turns (or so I am told)
On an axis that's distant and hidden and old--
Like a monarch or prince it attracts to its train
Lesser stars, who are bound in their paths to remain.

So it was for the forty-five thousand that came
In their cars, on the train, to a Thursday night game;
Attracted, compelled by a force with a name:
David Beckham was here! (He, of footballing fame
As no doubt many knew--and the few who did not?
Well it wasn't the sun that made those ladies hot)

By the thousands they came, by the truckload, by ton--
But the first half saw Beckham do nothing but run
On the touchline a bit--no, he never went on,
The BeckhamCam man must have stifled a yawn!

David Beckham the Circus had come, that was so,
But DC United provided the show:
Luciano Emilio, whose cannon-like score
Drew from the old faithful a thunderous roar!

And the faithful were there, in their colors arrayed:
The Twelfth Man, who is DC United's best aid:
Here were Norte and Eagles and Barras in force
Waving flags, singing, cheering until they were hoarse.

The rain fell in torrents, the heavens did rumble,
But DC United fans never did stumble:
And Galaxy, faltering, now a man down
Called at last on their Beckham of fame and renown.

How the ladies did scream--how the flashbulbs went off,
When Beckham, preparing, did take his shirt off!
And when Beckham arrived on the field, now to play,
The flashbulbs did turn Thursday night into day!
And if Beckham should tap a ball even a bit,
What a cheer the capacity crowd did emit!

'Twas too little, too late for the Galaxy, though--
Luciano Emilio's was too great of a blow.
When the whistle was blown, and the ball ceased to roll
It wasn't the hype that had won, but the soul--
Though Beckham may draw a capacity crowd
For United it was they were cheering out loud:
What Beckham can show us by his coming near
Is just how many fans there are already here

He devuelto de seguir de nuevo los aventuras del Capitán Alatriste. Éstas novelas de Arturo Pérez-Reverte se tratan de la vida y las aventuras del epónimo capitán, espadachín a sueldo en el España de Felipe IV.

Lo que me alegre más de todo en éstas novelas es que dan vida e ánimo al Siglo de Oro. Las figuras más conocidas del época-- el conde-duque de Olivares, el pintor Diego Velazquez, los poetas Lope de Vega y Francisco Quevedo-- salen en la narración, a menudo, cómo en caso de Quevedo, en papeles principales.

Resultado de que tengo muchísimas ganas de leer de nuevo (o, más bien, por la primera vez), la poesía del Siglo de Oro.

Quevedo ha salido como mi favorito. De vez en cuando su poesía me parece como la de mi otro favorito, Catúlo, como ya verán:

DESENGAÑO DE LAS MUJERES

Puto es el hombre que de putas fía,
y puto el que sus gustos apetece,
puto es el estipendio que se ofrece
en pago de su puta compañía.

Puto es el gusto y puta la alegría
que el rato puteril nos encarece;
y yo diré que es puto a quien parece
que no sois puta vos, señora mía.

Más llámenme a mí puto enamorado,
si al cabo para puta no os dejare;
y como puto muera yo quemado,

si de otras tales putas me pagare;
porque las putas graves son costosas,
y las putillas viles, afrentosas.

¡Que hubiera yo podido decir algo así a mi vieja!

The Red and the Black were still winless in three--
(Not a singular point, not a win, not a draw)
When the doughty New Englanders came to DC,
To be witnessed by Eagles, and Barras, and me.

Now that dreaded statistic did stick in the craw
Of DC United's vociferous fans--
Whom the rest of the league should regard with great awe--
All other supporters are nothing but straw.

So the Red and the Black, for their suffering fans,
For the love of the game and the sake of their name
Did valiantly try to please those in the stands
Who cheered on their efforts with uprais`ed hands.

But New England struck first! O the pain! O the shame!
Tyler Twellman, the imp, flicked a shot-- it was saved!
But his comrade converted, one Dornan by name.
Would D.C. United again live in shame?

Five minutes would pass ere the debt was repaid
By Jaime Moreno, by breaking away
From New England's defense (O, how skillfully played!)
The penalty area did he then invade.

But Riley then came, who with nothing to say,
Fouled Moreno instead to send him to the spot--
So doughty New England's defensive array
Would have nothing at all now to do but to pray--

And now does Moreno line up for the shot;
And now does the goalie attempt to prepare;
And now does his foot strike the ball--now it's caught
By the back of the net! Now the score is a knot!

New England's Grenadian, with nary a care
Nor with visible mercy, cut Ben Olsen down--
With Joseph sent off, could United now dare
To hope for a win in their RFK lair?

To hope proved too much-- though they were a man down,
New England relied on the crossbar and posts:
DC took its shots, the posts did rebound
While the Red and the Black the goal did surround.

New England, in sum, took a point from their hosts.
United, still winless, did salvage a draw.
And the refs? Those incompetents, less worthy than goats,
Will live to be cursed in many a toast.

From a post on law_students--a reminder not to mess with federal judges:

FitzGerald translated Omar Khayyam:

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

So true, especially with e-mail. How does one recover from the ill effects of a badly-timed "send"?

In honor of Dan "Steinbog" Steinberg's new look, I was moved to compose my first villanelle ever!




The blust'ry winter winds are soon to go--
The Sports Bog can be plenty sure of that,
Since Daniel Steinberg's lost his old chapeau.

The weatherman might doubt--but what's he know?
A groundhog shadow? What's the use of that?
These blust'ry winter winds are soon to go!

The Almanac can guess, but never know;
The D.C. Sports Bog can do more than that,
Since Daniel Steinberg's lost his old chapeau.

So readers: wear your scarves, but just for show--
Let Hoop and Net give way to Glove and Bat
These blust'ry winter winds are soon to go!

The Bog today just wanted you to know
A jacket's fine, but please omit the hat:
Look: Daniel Steinberg's lost his old chapeau.

Call Danny Snyder up in his chateau!
He may be shiv'ring. We'll have none of that:
These blustry winter winds are soon to go,
Since Daniel Steinberg's lost his old chapeau.


In honor of the ongoing Shakespeare festival, I'm inviting topical sonnets from you, my long-suffering, gentle readers. Sonnets need not be Shakespearean--Petrarchan and Spenserian forms are acceptable--but must be topical to DC or the surrounding area.

I'll begin.


Upon our District, prosperous and proud.
Did Winter's icy touch this week alight--
The bread and milk grew scarce, the forecasts loud
And shrill--and citizens did scurry at the sight
Of snowflakes, scarcely seen in these warm climes,
But seen enough for some of us to know
To keep our cool. We kept away from lines
At Giant, Safeway, CVS. The snow
Was less a hazard than the slipp'ry ice,
Which unexpected holidays did give
To schoolkids and to feds--and we thought twice
Of driving in the slush. Yes, we who live
The winter in and winter out don't fuss:
We clear our cars, or else we take the bus.

Yay, my sonnets are now officially featured on the DC Sports Bog.

Another sonnet I put on the DC Sports Bog Poetry Slam:


A fickle, willful mistress Fortune is,
Our District to endow with worldly might--
For here the Congress sits, the White House is,
Yet still our Redskins are a sorry sight!

Some hope, at least, abides within us still,
When Gilbert with his culinary flair
Can shake and bake and then hibachi-grill
The opposition in the Wizards' lair;

Ovechkin, with his skill upon the ice
The envy of the hockey world will be
And Olaf Kolzig's saves are mighty nice--
That's two teams now, at least, with dignity!

But what's the Barra Brava going to do
When Fake Salt Lake makes off with our Adu?

This was in response to a challenge on the DC Sports Bog

"To a young Squire"

In seasons past, the Redskins would reverse
The end-around, and thereby win a game--
But now we Redskins fans can only curse
A team that once was proud, but now is lame.

Eliminated now, they can begin
To understand the wherefores of their plight--
In learning how one lost, one learns to win
By knowing what went wrong and what went right.

O Daniel Snyder in your lux'ry box,
Hear now these words of wisdom from a fan:
Free Agents are expensive building blocks;
For personnel, a team must have a plan!

Though you can purchase Burgundy with Gold,
Remember: vict'ry can't be bought or sold.

Be not the first by whom the New are try'd,
Nor yet the last to lay the Old aside.

(from "An Essay on Criticism," AD 1711.)

This is my Dad's favorite passage from Pope, and mine as well. It was originally about style in poetry, but it could very well apply to bleeding-edgers in the computer/software world. I tend to get very upset at people with "Beta fever," who absolutely MUST have the latest-and-greatest, stability be damned.

Keep your Beta fever down to reasonable levels, kids. The servers are probably being hammered now, and there will still be a flurry of bugfixes before official release. Stay with 1.5.x for now.


People, listen up: back in the OLD days, when our spiffy IBM-compatible computers came with two 5.25 inch floppy disk drives--one for the OS, one for the program--we were wary of x.0 releases. They could be counted on to be buggy/unstable/otherwise unsuitable. If we had version number (x-1).y, and there were no compelling reasons to upgrade...we stayed put.

Fresh software means fresh bugs. Living on the cutting edge means bleeding every so often. So don't go after the absolute NEWEST version and then complain about stability or other concerns.

[I note with interest/chagrin that Beta fever is most pronounced among Windows users....]

Good news, my young, upwardly-mobile friends: the housing bubble is bursting!. Or at least some people think.

Why should I express delight at this? Surely this is a Bad Thing, certain to plunge the economy into Recession and Depression. Well, yeah, sure. But being the self-centered, egoistic Homo economicus I am, all I see in depression is dollar signs: a downward correction in housing costs means that I might actually have a fair shot at owning a house in measurable time!

Of course, it'll be bad. My parents, who are paying off the house, will be hit by a lack in value. But they are unlikely to sell in the short to medium term; they will probably be able to ride out a crash in prices by simply staying put. But speculators and people who bought at inflated prices in the bubble market will get hurt, I grant.

I have little sympathy, though, for folks who went out on a limb with interest-only mortgages, or have remortgaged their houses to buy Hummers or other bling. They'll have to take their lumps in the marketplace for their improvidence. Which means, my young and ambitious friends, we stand to profit.

Fraud, Luxury, and Pride must live;
We [illeg.] we the Benefits receive.
Hunger's a dreadful Plague no doubt,
Yet who digests or thrives without?
Do we not owe the Growth of Wine
To the dry, crooked, shabby Vine?
Which, whist its [illeg.] neglected flood,
Choak'd other Plants, and ran to Wood;
But blest us with his Noble Fruit;
As soon as it was tied, and cut:
So Vice is beneficial found,
When it's by Justice [illeg.], and bound;
Nay, where the People would be great,
As necessary to the State,
At Hunger is to make 'em eat.
Bare Vertue can't make Nations live
In Splendour; they, that would revive
A Golden Age, must be as free,
For Acorns, as for Honesty.

-Mandeville, "The Fable of the Bees,"

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.
( Gil Scott Heron! )

Lo dije siempre, y lo diré, y lo digo,
que es la amistad el bien mayor humano;
mas ¿qué español, qué griego, qué romano
nos ha de dar este perfecto amigo?
Alabo, reverencio, amo, bendigo
aquel a quien el cielo soberano
dió un amigo perfecto, y no es en vano;
que fué confieso, liberal conmigo.
Tener un grande amigo y obligalle
es el último bien, y por querelle
el alma, el bien y el mal comunicalle;
mas yo quiero vivir sin conocelle;
que no quiero la gloria de ganalle
por no tener el miedo de perdelle.

--Félix Lope de Vega y Carpio (1562-1635)

Adiós, Señor, maestro y amigo

Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine
Secundum verbum tuum in pace:
Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum
Quod parasti ante faciem omnium populorum
Lumen ad revelationem gentium,
Et gloriam plebis tuae Israel.

Now dismiss Thy servant, O Lord
In peace, according to Thy word:
For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation
Which Thou hast prepared in the sight of all the peoples--
A light for the revalation of the nations,
And the glory of Thy people, Israel.