Published in 1935 in the compilation of his verse; I am A Stranger Here Myself.
THE POLITICIAN
Behold the politician.
Self-preservation is his ambition.
He thrives in the D. of C.
Where he was sent by you and me.
Whether elected or appointed
He considers himself the Lord's anointed,
And indeed the ointment lingers on him
So thick you can't get your fingers on him.
He has developed a sixth sense
About living at the public expense,
Because in private competition
He would encounter malnutrition.
He has many profitable hobbies
Not the least of which is lobbies.
He would not sell his grandmother for a quarter
If he suspected the presence of a reporter.
He gains votes ever and anew
By taking money from everybody and giving it to a
few,
While explaining that every penny
Was extracted from the few to be given to the many.
Some politicians are Republicans, some Democratic,
And their feud is dramatic,
But except for the name
They are identically the same
When a politician talks the foolishest,
And obstructs everything the mulishest,
And bellows the loudest,
why his constituents are the proudest.
Wherever decent intelligent people get together
They talk about politicians as about bad weather,
But they are always too decent to go into politics them-
selves and too intelligent eve to go to the polls,
So I hope thekind of politicians they get will have
no mercy on their pocketbooks or souls.
The House
Showing posts with label ogden nash. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ogden nash. Show all posts
Friday, December 2, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
I wrote this letter to Keith Olberman asking him to read Ogden Nash. Keith read James Thurber to his audience on Fridays on MSNBC and Current tv. His father had suggested he do so because Keith read Thurber to him while he was dying. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ogden_Nash Odgen Nash could take a simple word and change its meaning with a small emphasis on a syllable, inflection or use it where you wouldn't normally see it. He coined the phrase; Candy is Dandy, but liquor is quicker. Keith is a word wizard just like Ogden Nash. Keith has a simliar humour and I hope he reads Ogden Nash who was a contemporary of Thurber.
Dear Keith Olberman
This is an open letter to you. I was going to do a video reading Ogden Nash. I realized after a video rehearsal, that my oral interpretation skills have so deteriorated since I took class with Dr. Ruth Arrington (Northeastern State University, Tahleqauh) that i better not. Dr. Arrington was a marvelous oral interp teacher. She was the first Cherokee woman to recieve a doctorate. She did not ring that bell and so I will for her now. James Thurber wasn't cutting it for me so I was going to read from "I am a Stranger here myself" two verses published in 1935. Both of these popped out at me as I opened the book. I hope you with your dulcet tones, perfect diction and inflection will do us the honor of reading Ogden Nash on your show. They are as follows:
BANKERS ARE JUST LIKE ANYBODY ELSE.
This is a song to celebrate banks.
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all you hear are clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits and discourage withdralls,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend money to anybody unless they don't need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worred about their rent it is your duty to
deny them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving of the martyred son of the late
Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must look at them like Tarzan looking
at an uppity ape in the jungle.
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow,
they had better go get the omeny from their wife's aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you urge them to accept every drop of it.
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want
the money sent or do they want to take it withm,
But please do not think I am not fond of banks,
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
Because they perform a valuable public service in eliminating the jackasses
who go around saying that health and happiness are everything and money isn't essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant money to maintain their health and happiness
they starve to death so they can't go around any more sneering at good old money, which is nothing short of
Provdential.
The next, which I thought timeless given the Madoff mea culpa routine being throw out on the msm.
A CLEAN CONSCIENCE NEVER RELAXES
There is an emotion to which we are most of us adduced,
But it is one which I refuse to boost.
It is harrowing, browbeating, and brutal,
Besides which it is futile.
Because of it sleepy men go sleepless,
Because of it, for all I know lyrical canaries and nightingales go peepless;
Hungry men lose their appetites;
Warm acrobats perspire coldly in their dapper tights;
Eligible bachelors enter ballrooms less eligibly,
And stoics talk to themselves loudly but fortunately also unintelligibly.
Land of Goshen,
What an easily dispensable emotion!
I am referring of course,
To remorse.
Remorse is a violent dyspepsia of the mind,
But it is very difficult to treat because it cannot even be defined,
Because everything is not gold that glisters and everything is not a tear that glistens,
And one man's remorse is another man's reminiscence,
So the truth is that as far as improving the world is concerned, remorse is a duffer,
Because the wrong people suffer,
Because the very fact that they suffer from remorse proves they are innocuous,
Yes indeed, it is the man remorse passes over completely who is the virulent streptococcuous.
Do you think that when Nero threw a martyr to the lions remorse enveloped him like an affinity?
Why, the only remorse in the whole Colosseum was felt by the martyr
who was reproaching himself for having dozed through the sermon
on the second Sunday after Trinity.
So I think remorse ought to stop biting the consciences that feed it,
And I think the Communist Party ought to work out
some plan for taking it away from those who have it
and giving it to those who need it.
Dear Keith Olberman
This is an open letter to you. I was going to do a video reading Ogden Nash. I realized after a video rehearsal, that my oral interpretation skills have so deteriorated since I took class with Dr. Ruth Arrington (Northeastern State University, Tahleqauh) that i better not. Dr. Arrington was a marvelous oral interp teacher. She was the first Cherokee woman to recieve a doctorate. She did not ring that bell and so I will for her now. James Thurber wasn't cutting it for me so I was going to read from "I am a Stranger here myself" two verses published in 1935. Both of these popped out at me as I opened the book. I hope you with your dulcet tones, perfect diction and inflection will do us the honor of reading Ogden Nash on your show. They are as follows:
BANKERS ARE JUST LIKE ANYBODY ELSE.
This is a song to celebrate banks.
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all you hear are clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits and discourage withdralls,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend money to anybody unless they don't need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worred about their rent it is your duty to
deny them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving of the martyred son of the late
Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must look at them like Tarzan looking
at an uppity ape in the jungle.
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow,
they had better go get the omeny from their wife's aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you urge them to accept every drop of it.
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want
the money sent or do they want to take it withm,
But please do not think I am not fond of banks,
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
Because they perform a valuable public service in eliminating the jackasses
who go around saying that health and happiness are everything and money isn't essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant money to maintain their health and happiness
they starve to death so they can't go around any more sneering at good old money, which is nothing short of
Provdential.
The next, which I thought timeless given the Madoff mea culpa routine being throw out on the msm.
A CLEAN CONSCIENCE NEVER RELAXES
There is an emotion to which we are most of us adduced,
But it is one which I refuse to boost.
It is harrowing, browbeating, and brutal,
Besides which it is futile.
Because of it sleepy men go sleepless,
Because of it, for all I know lyrical canaries and nightingales go peepless;
Hungry men lose their appetites;
Warm acrobats perspire coldly in their dapper tights;
Eligible bachelors enter ballrooms less eligibly,
And stoics talk to themselves loudly but fortunately also unintelligibly.
Land of Goshen,
What an easily dispensable emotion!
I am referring of course,
To remorse.
Remorse is a violent dyspepsia of the mind,
But it is very difficult to treat because it cannot even be defined,
Because everything is not gold that glisters and everything is not a tear that glistens,
And one man's remorse is another man's reminiscence,
So the truth is that as far as improving the world is concerned, remorse is a duffer,
Because the wrong people suffer,
Because the very fact that they suffer from remorse proves they are innocuous,
Yes indeed, it is the man remorse passes over completely who is the virulent streptococcuous.
Do you think that when Nero threw a martyr to the lions remorse enveloped him like an affinity?
Why, the only remorse in the whole Colosseum was felt by the martyr
who was reproaching himself for having dozed through the sermon
on the second Sunday after Trinity.
So I think remorse ought to stop biting the consciences that feed it,
And I think the Communist Party ought to work out
some plan for taking it away from those who have it
and giving it to those who need it.
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