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Philip Appleman: Alive

Wednesday, June 25th, 2008

Alive

Uncle Jimmie had a hunch that cancer,
the rat that gnawed away behind his ears,
was part of the warm earth and silver woods
and snowy meadows in the mountains. Surgeons
stabbed at the rat: scalpels sliced away
the ears one April dawn, as catbirds,
perched in the morning treetops, mocked the calling
of cardinals. Stabbed and missed—the rat survived.
The day they clipped out Uncle Jimmie’s cheeks
and upper lip, he pondered artichokes,
truffles, and a certain Tuscan wine.
And when they snipped his nose, he wept for roses
and the fresh sea breeze—and thought a while, and played
his hunch: Stop cutting, Jimmie told them, let
me go to earth and snow and silver trees.

But the rat kept gnawing, and Auntie Flo went on
reading St. Paul (The works of the flesh are uncleanness),
and praying, and paying the bills—and the surgeons huddled,
frowning at Jimmie’s want of reverence
for faith and modern medicine. With skillful
suturing, they lifted out his tongue
and dropped the wagging muscle in a pail,
and Uncle Jim, who used to murmur quatrains
out of Omar, kept his peace. Still, his eyes
kept pleading: Stop the cutting, let me go
to earth and silver trees! But Jimmie knew
the rat would work in just behind his eyes,
and Auntie Flo would go on reading Paul
(They that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh)
and praying, and paying the bills—and the pale blue eyes
would have to go: one Sunday after Angelus, Jim began
his dark forgetting of the green
wheat fields, red hills in the sun,
and how the clouds drive storms across the sea.
Some Monday following, a specialist
trimmed away one-quarter of his brain
and left no last gray memory of Omar
or snowy fields or earth or silver trees.
But Uncle Jimmie lives: the rat lies quiet now,
and tubes lead in and out of Jimmie’s veins
and vents. Auntie Flo comes every day
to read to bandages the Word Made Flesh,
and pray, and pay the bills, and watch with Jimmie,
whittled down like a dry stick, but living:
the heart, in its maze of tubes, pumps on,
while catbirds mock the calling of cardinals,
artichokes grow dusty green in sunshine,
butterflies dally with the roses,
and Uncle Jimmie is no part of these.

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Philip Appleman: Five Easy Prayers for Pagans

Monday, June 23rd, 2008

Philip Appleman is distinguished Professor Emeritus of the Department of English, Indiana University, Bloomington, and has been called “the poet laureate of freethought and humanism.” His poetry is by turns touching, funny, and bitingly satirical. Dr. Appleman has graciously granted permission for me to publish a number of his poems here, so watch for them in the coming days.

Five Easy Prayers for Pagans

1

O flaky Goddess of Fortune, we beseech Thee:
in the random thrust of Thy fluky favor, vector
the luminous lasers of Thy shifty eyes
down upon these, Thy needy & oh-so-deserving
petitioners. Bend down to us the sexy
curve of Thine indifferent ear, and hear
our passionate invocation: let Thy lovely,
lying lips murmur to us the news
of all our true-false guesses A-OK,
our firm & final offers come up rainbows,
our hangnails & hang-ups & hangovers suddenly zapped,
reverends & rabbis & born-agains all on the run —
and then, O Goddess, give us your slippery word
that the faithless Lady Luck will hang around
in our faithful love, friendships less fickle than youth,
and a steady view of our world in its barefoot truth.

2

O Mammon, Thou who art daily dissed
by everyone, yet boast more true disciples
than all other gods together;
Thou whose eerie sheen
gleameth from Corporate Headquarters
and Vatican Treasury alike, Thou
whose glittering eye impales us
in the X-ray vision of plastic surgeons,
the golden leer of televangelists,
the star-spangled gloat of politicos —
O Mammon, come down to us in the form
of Treasuries, Annuities, & High-Grade Bonds;
yield unto us those Benedict Arnold Funds,
those Quicksand Convertible Securities, even the wet
Judas Kiss of Futures Contracts — for
unto the least of these Thy supplicants
art Thou welcome in all Thy many forms… But
when Thou comest to say we’re finally in the gentry —
use the service entry.

3

O Venus, Cupid, Astarte,
teach us Thy horsepower lingam, Thy firecracker yoni,
show us Thy hundreds of sacred & tingling positions,
each orifice panting for every groping tumescence.
O lead us into the back rooms of silky temptation
and deliver us over to midnights of trembling desire.
But before all the nectar & honey leak out of this planet,
give us our passion in marble, commitment in granite.

4

O Shiva, relentless Spirit of Outrage;
in this vale of tearful True Believers,
teach us to repeat again and again:
No, Your Reverences, we will not serve
your Gross National Voodoo, your Church
Militant — we will not flatter the double faces
of those who pray in the Temple of the Holy
Assault Rifle.
Gentle Preserver, preserve the pure irreverence
of our stubborn minds.
O target the priests, Implacable Destroyer,
and hire a lawyer.

5

O Karma, Dharma, pudding and pie,
gimme a break before I die:
grant me wisdom, will, & wit,
purity, probity, pluck, & grit.
Trustworthy, loyal, helpful, kind,
gimme great abs & a steel-trap mind,
and forgive, Ye Gods, some humble advice —
these little blessings would suffice
to beget an earthly paradise:
make the bad people good —
and the good people nice;
and before our world goes over the brink,
teach the believers how to think.

Posted in Appleman, Humor, Philosophy | No Comments »

Brag of the Subgenius

Thursday, January 5th, 2006

A classic rant via Church of the Subgenius, probably by Rev. Ivan Stang

I pick the god damn terror of the fucking gods out of my nose!

Pardon my language…

But YEEEEEEHAW! Let the sons of God and man bear witness!

Even in the belly of the Thunderbird I’ve been casting out the False Prophets! I’m busting a gut and blowing my O-ring, and ripe to throw a loaf! For I speak only the fucking Truth, and never in my days have I spoke other than! For my every utterance is a lie, including this very one you hear!

I say “Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke!” By God, “Anything for a laugh,” I say.

I am the last remaining Homo Correctus, I am the god damn Man of the Future! I’ll drive a mile so as not to walk a foot! I am a human being of the first god damn water! Yes, I’m the javalina humping junkie that jumped the men from Mars!

I drank the Devil under seven tables! I’m too intense to die! I am insured for acts o’ God and Satan!

I was shanghaied by bodiless fiends and alien infidels from a corporate galaxy, and got away with their hubcaps!

I cannot be tracked on radar!

I wear nothing uniform, I wear no god damn uniform!

Yes, baby, I’m 23 feet tall and have 13 rows o’ teats; I was suckled by a Triceratops, I gave the Anti-Virgin a high-protein tonsil wash!

I’m a bacteriological weapon, I’m armed and loaded!

I’m a fission reactor! I fart plutonium, power plants are fueled by the sweat from my brow! When they plug me in the lights go out in Hong Kong!

I cook and eat my dead.

YAH-HOOOOO!

I’m the Unshaven Thorn Tree of the Atlantis Zoo!

I pay no taxes!

The Devil’s hands are my ideal playground!

I hold the Seven-Bladed Windbreaker!

The wheels that turn are behind me!

I think backwards! I do it for fun!

My imagination is a fucking cancer and I’ll pork it before it porks me!

They say a godzillion is the highest number there is. Well, by God! I count to a godzillion and one!

I use a python for a prophylactic! I’m thicker, harder, and meaner than the Alaskan Pipeline, and I carry more spew! I’ll freeze your seed before it hits the bathroom tile!

YEE! YEE!

I kidnapped the future and ransomed it for the past, I made Time wait up for me to bleed my lizard!

My infernal breath wilts the Tree of Life!

I left my spoor on the Rock of Ages!

Who’ll tear flesh with me? Who’ll spill their juice? Who’ll gouge with me? Whose candle will I fart out? WHOOP! I’m ready!

So step aside, all you buttlipped, neurotic, insecure bespectacled slabs o’ wimp meat! I’m a Crime Fighting Master Criminal! I am Not Insane!

I’m a screamer and a laugher, I make a spectacle of myself, I am a sight!

My physical type cannot be classified by science!

My “familiar” is a pterodactyl— I feed it dipshits!

I communicate without wires or strings!

I am a Thuggee, I am feared by the Tongs, I have the Evil Eye, I carry the Mojo Bag!

I swam the Bermuda Triangle and didn’t get wet!

I circumcise dinosaurs with my teeth and make ‘em leave a tip!

I change tires with my tongue and my tool!

Every night I hock up a lunger and extinguish the Sun!

I’m the big-footed Devil of Level 14, who’ll come shoe me? Where’s the robot giant who’ll try to blow me down?

I’ve packed the brownies of the gods!

I leak the Plague from my nether parts!

Opiates are the mass of my religion!

I take drugs!

Space monsters cringe at my tread!

I wipe the Pyramids off my shoes before I enter my house!

I’m fuel-injected! I’ll live forever and remember it afterwards!

I’m immune! I’m radioactive! Come on and give me cancer, I’ll spit up the tumor and butter my bread with the juice!

I’m supernatural, I bend crowbars with my meat axe and a thought! My droppings bore through the Earth and erupt volcanoes in China!

Yes, I can drink more wine and stay soberer than all the heathen Hindoos in Asia!

YEEE HAW! Gut Blowout!

I am a Moray Eel, I am a Komodo Dragon, I am a Killer Whale bereft of its pup!

I have a triple backbone, I was sired by the Wolf Man, give me all your Slack!

I told Jesus I wouldn’t go to Church and he shook my hand!

I have my own personal Saviors! I change ‘em every hour! I don’t give a fuck if there’s life after death, I want to know if there’s even any fucking Slack after death!

I am a god damn visionary! I see the future and the past in comic books and wine bottles!

I eat black holes for breakfast!

I bend my genes and whittle at my DNA with the sheer force of my mighty will! I steer my own god damn evolution!

I ran ‘em out of Heaven and sold it to Hell for a profit!

I’m enlightened, I achieved “Nirvana” and took it home with me!

Yip, Yip, YEEEEE!

When the Rapture comes, I’ll make ‘em wait! They’ll never clean my cage!

Now give me some more of… [transmission ends]

Posted in Humor, Philosophy, Poetry, Surrealism | 3 Comments »