Grasshopper Soup: More nothing to ramble on about
Special to the Bonanza
TAHOE/TRUCKEE and#8212; Once again it is time to ramble on and on about nothing at all. Other writers have become famous for writing nonsensical gibberish, like poet E. E. Cummings, and Lewis Carroll. Carrolland#8217;s poem and#8220;Jabberwockyand#8221; (referenced in the last sentence of this column) is, arguably, the literary standard by which all meaningful meaninglessness is measured.
I am dumbfounded to be included with such famous writers of rubbish, and probably very lucky not to share their degree of fame, but flattered, and jealous, nonetheless.
It takes a very high level of education to appreciate the value of hooey, also known as hogwash. I have two college degrees, so I can appreciate two thirds of it.
We blabbermouths, or, as I prefer to be called, mumbo jumbo experts, have a perfectly good excuse to ramble on and on about nothing. We live on planet Earth. Living in America affords us even more opportunities to make no sense at all no matter what we talk about. All a writer has to do is report the news. There is plenty of something, and nothing, to go on and on about, no matter where you live.
For example, I could go on and on about the Casey Anthony murder trial. Talk about gobbledygook. The verdict has caused people on both sides of the issue to lose complete control of their senses. The jury is virtually in hiding because of death threats from so-called patriotic Americans. Casey Anthony and her defense team reportedly went out and celebrated the verdict at a local bar. You canand#8217;t get more unprofessional than that. An innocent little girl is dead. There was no reason for anyone to celebrate. Toasting with champagne was a callous decision by a couple of pea-brain, knucklehead defense attorneys.
But good nonsense is a life force. It can be rejuvenating. It is just what the world needs right now. John Lennon wrote some great little stories in a completely, and deliberately, unconventional style that were more entertaining the weirder he made them sound. He made up nouns, verbs and adjectives no human had ever heard before, and received critical acclaim for his originality. Nonsense is its own reward. I tried to copy Lennonand#8217;s style of writing years ago. I think I still have some of my attempts at silliness buried in a box somewhere. Hold on, Iand#8217;ll see if I can find them.
Nope, thatand#8217;s not going to happen. The sun is out, the wind is dead and my new flower garden is about to bloom. There is nothing more important in the entire world right now than doing something completely thoughtless. Daydreaming. Digging through old papers, searching for works of art that could bestow great fame upon me means absolutely nothing at all, and is completely unnecessary. I can find all the nonsense I need just by watching the news.
I could make up some fresh gibberish, but I am experiencing severe mental resistance. I donand#8217;t think my mind is capable of nonsense anymore. I know, itand#8217;s tragic. Age, experience and wisdom have taken control of my consciousness. What was once unintelligible and juvenile has morphed into perfect insight and artful articulation. Youthful ignorance has been replaced with peerless perception and superior intelligence.
How was that last paragraph for complete and utter nonsense? I did it! Thank God it didnand#8217;t last. For a minute there I felt like I could solve the national debt crisis, end political gridlock, inspire the anti-social network to be completely civil, curb the growing tide of and#8220;itand#8217;s my way or the highwayand#8221; thinking, save all the animals and humans from their own devices and discover a way to control the weather, and people, too.
Iand#8217;d rather gyre and gimble in the wabe with the slithy toves.
Bob Sweigert is a Sierra Sun columnist, published poet, former college instructor and ski instructor. He has a B.A. and an M.A.T. from Gonzaga University. He has lived at Lake Tahoe for 28 years.