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  • Dec 02 / 2013
  • 0

Your Weekly Politickle: BLOCK


Feel free to publish, post, or pass on Your Weekly Politickle by F.R. Duplantier:

For so long I have dreaded this day
When my muse might meander away!
Now my deadline has come
And I feel really dumb,
‘Cause I find I have nothing to say.

From the archive:

A perfectionist poet was picky
And found writing light verse rather tricky,
So he sought inspiration
From an apt distillation
In a perfectly punny lime rickey.

Let iambs and anapests meet,
Dactyls and trochees compete,
But give yourself time
To get to each rhyme
Or you’re bound to trip over your feet.

Did this limerick just appear?
Was this limerick always here?
Surely you know it
Betokens a poet
Like Duplantier, Nash, or Lear.

You may think that I’m pulling a prank,
But I’m trying my best to be frank:
In my search for a rhyme
I have run out of time,
So you’ll just have to fill in the ___.

Last week’s limerick:

“Maw, I cain’t get the butcherin’ done.
You an’ Granny had both better run:
That big turkey’s a-fussin’
An’ comin’ for us’n —
With my hatchet and Paw’s 12-gauge gun!”

  • Oct 29 / 2011
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Spooky, Isn’t It?

Room with a Boo

31A Hunt St., Brockton

This is our first house, in Brockton, Massachusetts. We lived there 1986-89. There were two families of Cape Verdeans next door who always invited us to their parties and shared their wonderful food with us. My favorite was something they called pastel, a scrumptious fried fish pie that contributed mightily to the destruction of my theretofore trim physique! One Halloween, we cut a jack-o-lantern face in an old window shade and hung it in our upstairs bedroom. We had a long driveway, but you could see it all the way from the street, and all the kids in the neighborhood loved it.

  • Nov 07 / 2008
  • 1

Beausoleil Is Coming Your Way!

Bob & Evann's wedding waltz, Le Petit Theatre, French Quarter, 10.18.86

Beausoleil, the best Cajun band in the world, is playing in Fort Worth, San Antonio, and Austin next week — and Chicago, Minneapolis, Wilkesboro, and other venues nationwide early next year. Michael Doucet (the fiddler) and his group played at our wedding in the French Quarter in New Orleans in 1986 (see photo above).

I first heard Beausoleil (and their Cajun rock incarnation, Coteau) in Lafayette, Louisiana in 1976. Mike’s wife at the time was one of the best two-steppers in Acadiana, and I often took advantage of the fact that her husband was unable to dance with her while playing the fiddle. The story I wrote about my Sunday night trips to Boo Boo’s Lounge in Breaux Bridge to hear Coteau and dance with Linda Doucet was published in a Baton Rouge weekly and quickly led to my first real job, as editor of the bilingual Cajun monthly La Gazette des Acadiens.

On the occasion of the 25th anniversary of the publication of “The Fiddler’s Wife,” I decided to turn the story into a song:

My favorite Cajun band
Is playing here tonight,
So I’ll grab a seat
And tap my feet
Near the fiddler’s wife.

She can’t dance with him
While he plays the fiddle.
That gives me
A chance to dance
With the fiddler’s wife.

Have the fiddler play
The song called “Jolie Blonde,”
‘Cause the prettiest blonde
In tout le monde
Is the fiddler’s wife.

She can’t dance with him, ETC.

She’ll go home with him
When the band is through,
But until they’re done
I’ll have some fun
With the fiddler’s wife.

She can’t dance with him, ETC.

Beausoleil came to St. Louis early last year and played at a casino near our house. I hadn’t seen Mike in years and had a lot of fun getting caught up with him. And my wife and I got a chance to demonstrate that we can still do a mean two-step — mais, chere, next day we were sore, yeah!

Inspired by the outing, I decided that Doucet deserved his own song, so I wrote this for him a few days later:

Little Doucet when he was young
Didn’t know how to dance.
All the girls in town would crowd around,
But he wouldn’t give them a chance.

Danser, Doucet?”
“Je ne peux pas, ma chere.”
“Danser, Doucet?”
“Je ne sais pas le faire.”

Little Doucet had to compensate,
So he picked up grandpa’s fiddle.
He tightened the strings till they started to sing
And he learned how to play a little.

“Danser, Doucet?” ETC.

Little Doucet got to be real good
And formed a band called Beausoleil.
They worked real hard, won a grammy award,
And they’re playing for you today.

“Danser, Doucet?” ETC.

Despite his fame, Doucet hasn’t changed,
He’s a victim of circumstance:
All the girls in town are still crowding around
Trying to get Doucet to dance.

“Danser, Doucet?” ETC.

  • Oct 26 / 2008
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Your Weekly Politickle

I never could see the appeal of Happy Days, but The Andy Griffith Show, in my opinion, was the single best television comedy ever broadcast. Sheriff Andy Taylor was my surrogate TV father when I was growing up (Laura Petrie my surrogate mom, from whom I became alienated when she metamorphosed into Mary Richards). Despite all the cracks about it being a show for seniors, I’ve been a big fan of Matlock since it first aired in 1986. And the great horse opera parody Rustler’s Rhapsody, with Griffith in a supporting role as an evil cattle baron, is one of my favorite movies. That’s why, when I saw the Obama endorsement that Ron Howard, in the guise of Opie and Richie Cunningham, put together with Andy Griffith and Henry Winkler, I wanted to vomit. Instead, I spit out this week’s Politickle:

“He’s compared to the Christ and to Gandhi,
He’s offered us all bags of candy,
But he got my vote when
The endorsements came in
From the Fonz, Richie, Opie, and Andy.”


“We’ll be summoned from slumberous state
To endorse the quadrennial slate;
Then it’s back to the grave,
Where we’ll try to behave
‘Til the conclave of 2008!”

The polls open and who comes in?
Mary Poppins and Mickey Finn,
Then Betty Boop
And Alley Oop,
Sherlock Holmes and Gunga Din!

What compares to the horrible fright
That will haunt us on Halloween night?
Consider the fear,
As elections draw near,
Ghoulish candidates soon will excite!

There once was a man named Vlad
Who was known for a habit he had:
With such pride in his nailing,
When he took to impaling
No one ever would challenge his chad.

Of the varied lay orders he scoured,
Opus Dei above others towered,
But the postulant was dopey
And espoused Deus Opie,
Unaware that they worshipped Ron Howard.

Last week’s limerick:

“I’m a master at deceivin’,
At wigglin’, wafflin’, weavin’;
And when I create
A socialist state,
You’ll have change you can believe in.”

  • Oct 25 / 2008
  • 1

Invincible Ignorance

Discovered to my shock that a moderate-to-conservative relative was planning to vote for Obama and, assuming he was unaware of Obama’s unsavory connections and socialist identity, emailed him a link to IBD Editorials. I received this [excerpted] reply:

I appreciate your attempt to educate me as to Obama’s flaws, Bob, but I intend to vote for him on election day unless I find out that he is an alien intent on eating children.

There are some things on which I agree with McCain, but I do not find any reason to believe that he will be an effective executive, and Sarah Palin is in no way qualified to succeed him should he die or become incapacitated during his term. Had McCain chosen anyone else, I might well be willing to consider him. And believe me, Bob, there is no way that you can ever convince me that Sarah Palin is at all ready to be President of the US. She would be a deer in the headlights, hockey mom or not. . . .

My response:

“an alien intent on eating children” Might as well be. His appointments to the Supreme Court will guarantee the continuing murder of unborn children. “Murder?!! He said ‘murder.’ Tee hee.” [LAUGH TRACK] Yes, murder.

As for Palin, she has far more executive experience than Obama (who has none). Undeniable. Case closed.

What on earth makes Obama “ready”? Glibness? Radical associates? Criminal associates? Direct connections to vote fraud? Illegal domestic contributions? Illegal foreign contributions? A running mate who’s a plagiarizing hack? . . .

Hey, I still don’t care for McCain and can’t see how anyone could cast a ballot for him without holding his nose, but nothing on earth could make me vote for a smug, socialist change-agent-in-disguise like Obama. I’ve been fighting ruthless, pious bastards like him all my life.

You’ve had exchanges like this with your own relatives and friends, so you know the rest of the story: Several more emails went back and forth, neither one of us gave an inch, the hostility level increased markedly each time, and a close family tie was nearly severed. But how could I let it go? If I really believe, as I do, that an Obama presidency poses a genuine threat to the security of our country, mustn’t I make a sincere effort to share my concerns with open-minded people? (I don’t waste time on lefties and nitwits.)

We survived JFK, Jimmy Carter, and Bill Clinton (the three worst presidents in the history of the United States, in that order), but will we survive Obama? As I told my relative in one of my last-ditch efforts to persuade him at least to investigate further: “I have no idea what a McCain Administration would mean for our country in general or conservatives in particular, but I am confident that an Obama presidency would be disastrous. (Another four years of Carter, I’m convinced, would have led to a full-fledged invasion from the South.)”

  • Oct 22 / 2008
  • 0

Hey, Where Y’at?

“Like a beast in a bottomless bog
Who parades in perpetual fog,
Though unseen and unheard
I’m supremely assured
In the bliss of my blithering blog.”

Well, that was my take on blogging four years ago. Once again, as often happens, I was wrong. But I’ve always learned from my mistakes and can honestly say that I am now an incredibly wise — blogger.

Being currently unemployed, I intend to update my blog daily. However, be advised: Once (i.e., if) I secure a steady job, the blog will be the first thing to go. So, enjoy it while you can.

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