This Is the Week That Is

BTdingbat3.gifIncoming! February 14, 2005
by your humble coëditor, Geoff Wolinetz, over at The Black Table.

Music for the Masses

500 Best Songs!

Hey, kids! Do you like the rock 'n' roll? If so, head on over to
Matthew Tobey's City of Floating Blogs
to check out the O.C.D.-enabled megalist of 500 bestest songs ever, compiled from suggestions by the Internet's finest music dweebs, among them your humble Y.P.R. coëditors.

& Recently . . .

David Foster Wallace, TV Guide Synopsist by Teddy Wayne

Pimpin' Like a Pirate by Nick Jezarian

Tetherball with Grandma by Geoff Wolinetz

Daniel Robert Epstein


Dear Wikipedia

The Y.P.R. Book Club Returns!
Y.P.R. solicits your spur-of-the-moment, off-the-cuff, split-second, ad-lib snap judgements regarding Malcolm Gladwell's Blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking.

Send us your reviews, parodies, deleted chapters, etc. by February 28th, 2005. Blink!

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Learn Many Languages!

Meat-stuffed pasta pocket:
Ravioli (Italian)
Wonton (Cantonese)
Kreplach (Yiddish)
Pierogi (Polish)
Pelmeni (Russian)

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Tuesday, November 23, 2004    |    Fiction

Response to E-Mail from a Princess

by George Motisher
Exotic Mid-East princess! Well, Shazam! Tossed from your family’s ancient royal chair. You need my help; you’re chased, you’re on the lam; And for my aid, your regal jewels you’ll share. But do I know you will? Oh! Should I dare? A Thousand One to one; those are the odds Your tales are truer than Scheherazade’s.

Your fortune’s surely jarred up in a cave,
And “Open Sesame!” makes it appear,
You hint that with a visa you will brave
The whirling scimitars of some vizier,
And smuggle out those jewels in your bràssiere;
That if I number routes for an escape,
For me, all of your treasures you’ll undrape.

At least you’re not the clerk of one who’s crashed,
With bank assets that no one’s come to claim;
You’ve easy access to the bills you’ve stashed,
And quick transferals are your only aim.
But I’m like Solomon, wise to a game:
You’ve got no bucks, you’re not Assyrian,
But just the same old dead Nigerian.

I’m peeking now through all your seven veils,
And though your moves are subtle, I perceive
A hand that touches softly, then impales;
The love line on your palm runs up your sleeve;
I’d hear your Forty friends laugh, should I grieve.
You move seductively, like Salome,
But I’m no John the Baptist on a tray.

The sailor, Sinbad, flying on the roc,
Found gems; your flight could bring the same for me,
But your jar filled with jewels is just a crock,
I doubt a single stone I’d ever see.
Your bobbing baubles waiting to hang free
Might tempt a ship to rocks on which she’d break—
But I think that your treasure jugs are fake.

I’ll here misquote a diff’rent sailor man:
“I am what, Khayyãm?”—I’ll share bread for your plight?
No wine, not even djinn, no caravan,
Could move my finger once it’s writ, “Yeah, right!”
Mount thou thy magic rug and take a flight.
No jewels I’ll gain, no yacht! I’ve no regrets—
My sun still glows like ruby when it sets.

George Motisher first achieved fame as a scientist. He set up the original double-blind study that proved conclusively which items actually did beat a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, and has recently conducted research into how socio-economic factors play a role in turning good cholesterol bad. His research results have been published in Well Known Scientific Journal and Respected International Quarterly, and he has been recognized by Prestigious Organization of World-Renowned Researchers. He became a writer as part of a study of poverty.

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Previously: « Memo to Outgoing Cabinet Members
Nextly: All That Was Left of My Novel after the Fire »

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Motisher, George