renee_sance

Mad Lit Professor Puts Finishing Touches On Bloomsday Device


DUBLIN—Professor Hanlon O'Faolin, once called "mad" at the Royal Irish Academy for attempting to reanimate the traditional body of Celtic folktales with the power of elcectic multilingual puns, is readying his apoplectic Bloomsday Device for activation on June 16. "Yes! Yes, they laughed at me yes but now yes I will make them pay and yes!" O'Faolin wrote in a letters to the Irish Times, promising the destruction of Dublin on the same day portrayed in Joyce's Ulysses. "When the sun first strikes the Martello Tower, the first notes of 'The Rose of Castille' shall ring out, the streets shall run with rashers, kidneys, and sausages, and I shall forge in the smithy of Dublin's soul the uncreated conscience of my race!" Dublin police say they are working around the clock from profiles to create a portrait of the professor as a crazy man.

My mother always told me that hickeys were the height of tackiness. My father would say that there wasn't anything wrong with them, but you should only get them where they weren't viewable. Having said this, I grew up sort of afraid of hickeys. I felt that if someone tried to give one to me, it denoted some sinister intention on their part and I did not want to ever get a hickey! I would tease my friends relentlessly if they had one.

Well, on my 15th birthday my friends thought it would be hilarious to pin me down and give me a HICKEY. Yes, my friends, my best friends, there were five of them, decided this without my consent. So, they did! Not only did they pin me down and give me a hickey, but they pinned me down and gave me multiple hickeys, so many I couldn't even count them. They were all around my neck, they were behind my ears, they were profuse on my decolletage (yes, I had one then) and they were on my stomach, shoulders, arms, everywhere they could get them. All above the waist, of course, after all, I was a virgin, but not a hickey virgin anymore.

Needless to say, my mother hit the roof! Not a pretty image in her mind. My father just laughed and laughed and laughed, all the while shaking his head. To make matters worse, my mother's boyfriend put up a cartoon on the fridge that had a young girl, in an examining room, with hickeys covering her body and the doctor reassuring her mother that they were only hickeys, not to worry. Of course, her name was scratched out and my mother's put in its' place. After many years of relentless teasing, it now cracks me up.

My son, Bram, began talking at an early age. His first word, besides Mama and Papa, was LIGHT. He was about 8.5 months when he said it. 
This word became a highlight in his life as he generated and emanated his understanding of it with great alacrity. He would point out lights to others as though it was a new concept for all. He is still good at sharing.
When he was a little older, I found an old cassette with the song "Flashlight" by Parliament on it. With all of the mention of various lights, I just had to share it with him. Well, that child became so well versed with it that he sang it a lot, for some time. I must add that it was fair for him to do so considering he came from the womb of a cantomaniac.
So, one day while entering Vulcan Video, he was singing the word "Flashlight", a woman exiting looked at him with this look of astonishment. She in turn sang out  "Neon Light" in reply. Well, the look on Bram's face was the same as hers!  They both amazed each other! 

Could this be true? Am I really going to post an entry in a public forum? Am I ready to expose my private thoughts to the masses?
No. I am not.