29 February, 2012


Hamburgers, hamburgers, everywhere and not a one I can eat.

There are t-shirts and shoes and ties covered with them. Felt hats, sun glasses, pocket watches and stockinged socks, but not one that is edible. There are wooden carvings and marble statues, cast iron designs and still there's none to eat. Rings, accessories and all sorts of things, but there's not a cheesy whiff.

You'd think that at a hamburger convention, they would be selling burgers in their thousands to adoring and hungry fans. But no. Despite the few walking burger costumes and hamburglars, the only food here belongs in a health food shop. Nuts and fruits and salads to boot, there's nothing edible here. Not a greasy chip or even an oily fry, I'm so hungry I think I could die.

Where are the sweet halves of sesame buns, the squirts of ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise? Where are the pickles, onion slices and meaty patties, oozing juicy fatness? Where are the stacks of processed cheeses made expressly for fast food chains? There's nothing here. I'll have to go. This is not the place for me. No gourmet pickings. No hamburgers feasts. No gorging 'til I'm bloated. There's not even a eating contest. This is no fun.

I've learnt my lesson. Next time, I'll know. There's not a chance I'll come again. Hamburger conventions are for string-bean sized health freaks who dream of being as round and healthy as me. I practised for this size and have daily eaten my weight in burgers. If no one else appreciates it, I'll not stay around for them to stare.

Hamburger, hamburgers, everywhere and not one that I can eat.

28 February, 2012

what neccesity does such language beckon

Olde Ben, a wandering bard, searches for an apprentice to whom he can pass on his knowledge and happens upon a small village. Noting by his appearance, where his trade lies, a crowd forms around him while he sings. After a few songs, he stops for a drink.

Olde Ben to his audience declares:
Answer me in verity my partition to thee-ward,
Is it not truth, thou art a grandiloquent steward?
For fame of such a notion hath fallen upon ripe ears
Deliver succinctly I pray thee, is such delight shared?
Many a crooked look befall those whom brandish such vernacular
Numerous words painted through pictures spectacular.
Or hast mine own enthusiasm laid wait to ensnare,
To prove for such things only myself dare to care?

Young girl rubs head and mumbles:
Oh goodness… I think I understand about 3% of that…

Olde Ben seeks the speaker of the reply, not having heard it clearly, shading his eyes with his hand. The crowd shuffles, mutters and ripples in amusement when...

Distant answer from back of crowd:
In verity I believe that by such language doth thou seek
To burgeon pride in one of mind to break unto one meek
Doth thou know not in such gails have I shared
The fall, the pun, the spooner, run
All these, Steward, I have cared.
Snare thy ears and pare thine eyes
For this notion, forsooth I've sought my lyres
And before the dawn is lightly done
Have words painted throughout the byres.

Unknown to Olde Ben, at the back of the crowd is a small group of people who are the town's regular entertainment. They are not amused with the competition as the town will not let them play with a visitor in town.

Olde Ben beckons:
Come hither, Friend, from distant place
Where eye light cannot see
And join me presently on creaking stage
I'll not charge thee a fee.

Distant reply:
But thou wilt onward journey
For florists have we here
And no further need of spectaculars
Have we for those with ornate vernacular.

Crowd applauds as verbatim flies. There is nothing better than a good display in vocabulary than a good argument; and nothing so entertaining as a fight within one's home ground when you know the home team is poised to win.