Odd Duck

Welcome to the Club... Mister E-for-Ed's Animalia, a happily brief mini-series of odes and en-souciants, past posts and pesky poems. ("A Horace is a Horace, of chorus, of chorus.") Step right up for the third piece in our first set, meaning the last of our Zoo's Who of dejects, come-downs, and weary reinstatements, this one written donkey's years ago during my around-the-world journey to enlightenment--of wisdom (that's pronounced whiz-dumb) and world ways, of waistline and wallet.

Mention the word "duck" these days, and folks are likely to think of one particular merry band of bushy beards, camouflaged weirdness, and crazy-like-a-fox Right Wing redneckery. But, pre-Dynasty, there were other coots and drakes, pin-tails and mallards, not to mention Daffy and Donald and--if you go back far enough, if you really dig deep Down Under--the oddest duck of them all, a certain sexually confused, Antipodean throwback with a lot on its plate.

But enough squawk'n'quack. Ladies and gentlemen, this way to the egress...

Grin and Bear It

As my life stalls, so do these musings.

I will live to write again, but at present am On Leave. A few fill-ins, best-ofs, and brought-backs will accordingly show up here in the meantime, unfamiliar to most who pass by, pause briefly, and then move on, through empty space, time of no time, aether renewal, cloud of unknowing, or mere nothing at all, to the next non-stop in and

of the Blogisphere. (Blog-a-Sphere?) (Blog-is-Fear?)

But I digress. (That way lies madness.)

Here lies and then rears its ursine head another of the creatures I once created...