Backbone > Quarter to Three

Gaballou
By Sparrow . Illustration by Mike Dubisch

Dadaji,
While lying in bed today,
I began a new self-analysis.
This is what I have
uncovered so far:

I want to live on a “desert island” in a New Yorker cartoon: one that is 12 feet in diameter, sandy, with one palm tree, and a rock. I would lean against the rock, in my ragged shorts. (I love those ragged shorts). Next to me would be a pair of binoculars, for sighting a ship. I would be alone, not with a sarcastic companion or a buxom blonde. (Those are the other two options.)
And would there be a punch line to my cartoon?

Here are some possibilities:

“Omigod, I forgot the keys to my Volkswagen!”
“I wonder who the new governor of Pennsylvania is?”
“I wish I’d brought my copy of Being and Nothingness!”

During the day, my favorite color is black; at night, my favorite color is blue.
I prefer the color of the sky that is absent.

Yesterday while driving on the FDR Drive in Manhattan I said to my daughter,
“There’s a tugboat, behind that barge!”—pointing out the window.
“But it’s pushing the barge,” Sylvia replied. “It’s not tugging.”
“Yes, for some reason tugboats don’t actually tug,” I admitted.
“They should call them ‘pushboats,’” Sylvia suggested.

I hope your malaria quickly abates.

Namaskar,
Sparrow

Two Books

“Each pencil has
enough lead to
write two books.”

—National Pencil Manufacturers Assn.

Steve,
I stayed with Ellen and Sylvia at the Concordville Inn (in Media, PA)—our room was 411. The second day the phone rang in the bathroom—and only in the bathroom.

“Is this Information?” a woman’s voice asked.

“I’m sorry, no,” I said.

411: our room was a pun on “information.”

Orion, the street poet, asked me last night at the Bowery Poetry Club, “Do you know what happened to Bozo the Clown?”

“No,” I answered.

“Well, you must research this question,” Orion advised.

“It is incumbent on you to learn the answer.”

Love,
Sparrow

Diaries Extinct?

Does anyone write in a diary anymore?

Does everyone now “keep a journal”?

If you write in a diary, please contact me c/o Chronogram, Post Office Box 459, New Paltz, NY 12561, or e-mail info@chronogram.com.

Funny Century

The 16th century was a
funny century.

A Letter

Sparrow;
I thought you may like this—when my sister was younger
she misheard a phrase and repeated “Grapevines think alike.” We still use this phrase in my house often. It gets a smile or a puzzled look, depending on the listener.

—Patty Ruska, New Paltz

I replied:

Patty,
What was the original phrase?
Actuary muzzle,
Sparrow

She replied:

Sparrow,
“Great minds think alike.”
Patty

Poem 35

gaballou

Palindrome Newsflash

I saw my friend Margery Scow while I was voting in the last school board election. “I like the palindromes in Quarter to Three [this column],” she remarked. “You know, I have a nephew who is a palindrome. His name is Niles Davad Selin. He’s a nine-year-old boy in Oxford, Pennsylvania.”