Loud noises, proud noises

Good noises, bad noises

Happy and sad noises

Nature noises, mature noises

House noises, mouse noises

People noises, steeple noises

Nosey noises, mosey noises

Gentle noises, sentimental noises

Things that boomed

Whooshed, swished, zoomed

Grinding, grating

Clunking, clanking

Thumping and bumping

Dripping, droning

Groaning, moaning

Squeaking, squawking

Cheeping, chirping

Hiccuping and burping

All day and all night long!

I can’t sleep–shut up already!!!!




The controversy surrounding Steven Tyler’s zany Pop Art pants at the AMC Awards last night is slowly fading.  What I’m about to say has nothing to do with garments of any kind.  It’s more about zany behavior.

Some kids in elementary school had weird habits.  They grew into productive citizens in spite of them.  Like little beavers, some chewed on their #2 pencils; Consumed rubber erasers; Ate white library paste.  The metal piece that held the eraser was also chewed.  Kids in my day must have had strong teeth.  I haven’t a clue as to what these forages into the dietary unknown were all about.

Sucking and chewing on business ends of ball point pens made for blue or black tongues.  It never worked for getting out of class.  I confess to doing some of these things.  None of this warrants media coverage.  Neither Jerry Springer, nor Dr. Phil would be the least bit interested.  Mucilage–brown, sticky paper glue, in rubber-tipped bottles, didn’t seem to tempt anyone.

All kids were vaccinated against polio and smallpox in the early fifties.  We were herded, lined up like cattle, poked and prodded.  I don’t remember anyone passing out–a few did cry.

Crest has been shown to be an effective decay-preventing dentrifice that can be of significant value when used in a conscientiously applied program of oral hygiene and regular professional care.  –Council on Dental Therapeutics, American Dental Association–

I committed that statement from Crest toothpaste tubes and boxes to memory.  My class was part of a test group for Proctor & Gamble in the fifties.  We got free Crest toothpaste and toothbrushes.

I was an original Crest kid.  No, that didn’t make me special–although I’ve enjoyed good dental health over the years.  Memorizing the Crest slogan never got me anywhere–never brought fortune or fame.

The smell of freshly mimeographed paper copies, I found rather pleasant.  I could drop my chewed-up pencil, pick it up, and drink in the wonderful aroma from the teacher’s newly minted pop quiz.  There wasn’t any weird, creepy substance abuse thing going on.  It had to be something in the duplicating fluid used in ancient, drum-type mechanical copiers.