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Word of the Every So Often

dudgeon:  (noun)  (pronounced:  dud-jun)  a feeling of offense or deep resentment; totally pissed; a short sword or dagger.  I felt nothing but dudgeon for Bob when he stabbed me with his dudgeon.

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The Almost Daily

Aside from being 4:20 Eve, today, April 19, is not Sylvester J. Pussycat, Sr.’s, Birthday, better known simply as Sylvester the Cat.  True, there are some websites that claim today as the iconic puddy tat’s birthday, but nobody seems to know why.  He never celebrated a birthday in any of his numerous cartoons, and it’s not the birthday of anybody who had anything to do with Sylvester, such as Friz Freleng, who created the lisping cat, or Mel Blanc, who gave that cat a voice.  It seems to simply be a day that was chosen at random. 

 

So, here at the Press, we’re celebrating March 24 as Sylvester’s birthday, for it was on that date in 1945 that Sylvester first appeared in the cartoon “Life with Feathers.”  But, alas, we missed it this year.  So today will have to do.

 

And just so you’ll have something to talk about tonight at supper... The name Slyvester is a take off of the scientific name for big cats:  Felis silvestris.   Though many automatically pair Sylvester with Tweety, Sylvester was in many cartoons without his small, feathery nemesis.  Some of our favourites here at the Press are when Sylvester was trying to live up to his son’s, Silvester, Jr’s, expectations while trying to catch the baby kangaroo, Hippety Hopper.  And we absolutely love “Tree for Two,” where Sylvester is being shadowed by an escaped panther while the two dogs, Spike and Chester, created even more pandemonium.  Good stuff.  In all, Sylvester won three Academy Awards.  Not bad for a cat.

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Cartoon of the Week

16 High Noon.jpg

Before there was 4:20, there was High Noon

Stuff

Time and Temperature

 

It came as an epiphany.

The bank’s time and temperature wasn’t wrong.

It was actually telling what the temperature

was going to be

tomorrow at 6:17 p.m.

It was a window into the future.

Perfectly useless for most aspects of life,

except maybe planning a picnic,

but nevertheless,

a chance to see what had not yet happened,

what was going to happen

28 hours and 16 minutes from now,

any now.

 

So instead of going to work one day,

I just sat in the bank’s lot

and watched as it cooled off tomorrow evening,

down to an overnight low of 63,

before it started to warm up again at sunrise,

day after tomorrow.

 

It was only after I’d been there for over a day

that I noticed the parking lot was full of other cars

with their occupants doing nothing else

than watching that digital readout.

One guy here,

two guys there,

even entire families

sitting in rapture

over what tomorrow’s weather was going to be.

 

I think it was finally hunger

that made me abandon my spot,

which was quickly filled by one of the cars

circling the lot,

hoping for someplace to land.

 

At times I’m tempted to go back,

just to see,

just to know.

But that intersection has become so congested

that it would add a full thirty minutes

onto my commute,

and I don’t want to leave any earlier,

and I can’t afford to be late.

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