We ended up with a nice bit of variety, although it was interesting how many haiku focused on food and beverage. Maybe that’s just a sign of where everyone’s head is. When I first thought of the theme, the denotation of the word that intrigued me was selling short -- profiting through loss, betting on a move to the downside. If I had to offer up a haiku this week, I’d have tried to do something with that. But as the definitions showed, many possibilities were available, and judging from the quality of the entries, I’m glad I was on the sidelines this week.
I do intend to keep this short, by the way. Every entry was quality. As I saw them come in, I thought, There’s a winner, there’s a winner. But when one in particular showed up, I knew where the blue ribbon was going, and subsequent entries didn’t move me off that dime.
Karl 1: Gets a prize for working “glyexab” into the verse. There’s poetry in word verification.
Fishy 1–3: “Short bus” is always a metaphor and a euphemism that’s well worth mining. The “short ribs” entry made me wish I was invited to the party.
Karl 2: The long and short of the haiku process made me want to dance the hokey-pokey. Liked the rhythm.
Moi: Glad you found your knight in shining armor. I wish I’d have been there when you were thirteen. Alas, I was ensconced in a boys’ school, years away from thinking any female would ever even cough in my direction. (I’m still amazed when they do.) Eh, I’d have ended up on the trash heap, too. Moi at thirteen. Any of us at thirteen. The mind reels.
Chickory: In full disclosure and true to my profession, I should have given credit where it’s due and noted that the definitions were from Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (11th edition). There, that feels better. Somewhere back in my blog archives, I have an entry about whether “50 Cent” in an index should be alphabetized under “Fifty” or “Fiddy.” I get, obviously, the Randy Nouvel Homme reference, and I guess Gaga is “born this way.” I don’t know where the Fiddy comes in. When I saw “go, go, go shorty,” I thought a little further back -- to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Glad you’re over the plague. We need you plugging away in the many art realms.
Troll 1: Thanks for giving me a chance to ask my son to translate. I think it sounds better in the original.
Kym 1: Being short might be hard, but I think your stature will result in a longer life. I have always thought that life expectancy was related more to height than gender. Women are shorter; live longer. To wit, Muggsy Bogues has already outlasted Manute Bol. The human body’s not designed for excessive height. There’s a reason you hear “little old man,” and you don’t see a lot of six-foot-three nonagenarians stumbling around.
Troll 2: Thanks again for another gift: a visit to the Thomas Hobbes Liquor Emporium. Only at Haiku Monday.
Kym 2: Nice play on “short.” And I am a Waffle House devotee. Lived for 10 years in Avondale Estates, GA, home of the first and the 1,000th WH. From spending literally hundreds (it may even be thousands) of hours patronizing this fine institution, I can attest that the lives of most of the cooks seem scattered, smothered, and covered indeed. And I have the greatest of admiration for those folks. It takes an amazing mind to do that job correctly -- one that I do not possess.
Foam: Good thing about pints and pint-sized folks. If there’s too many of the former, the descent is much quicker, and likely not as painful.
Fleur: We need to get you out more. Or less. We could rename this one “Fleur and the Angry Inch.” How did you ascertain his exact height? Were you toting your Mickey Rooney cardboard cutout for comparison?
Fishy 4: Nice job on the timely and topical. Blago is that dumb. And corrupt. And arrogant.
Uncle 1–2: In my part of the world, two types of wimmen wear short shorts: Girls who are too young for me to be looking at, and women who damn near take up an aisle by themselves at the Walmart. Both are unfortunate in their own way.
Aunty 1–3: I don’t think I set up any rules this time around, nor did I dangle a prize, now that I think of it. Thanks for getting these in. All are great. Shameless pandering is a time-tested way to a man’s heart (see also Fishy 2, “Short ribs”). I love “six short pants and a PUSH!” And between “myopia” this week and “presbyopia” last week, I’m having a hard time seeing straight. All most clever.
And now, having made a short story long, I’ll bring this review up short with a haiku summation:
for the Waffle House homage.
As I said, no prize forthcoming from here. You don’t need one. As the father of two sons whom I adore, I can say -- as you already know -- your gift awaits you. Sounds like you’re already enjoying it.
Had a great time, folks. Thanks to Troll et al. for entrusting me with this institution for a week. Back to meet a deadline on which I’ve left myself woefully short on time.