Date: 9/20/2013
Day: -7
Location: Home
Miles Today: 0
Total Miles: 0
Drood
A disagreeable thing about Blogs, one among many; they are
displayed in ascending date order from bottom to top -- and most often read from top to bottom
newest calendar date first. If you
missed the recent exposition on The Mystery of Edwin Drood, please see the posting for September 15th.
The word “Drood” was copywriten by Mr. Dickens, or his
heirs, in 1870 but the word has long been fair game. You may suppose the word to mean whatever
it amuses you to imagine, but if you really want to know….
Drood is a common, non-medical term for Periorbital
puffiness, the bags some folks have
under their eyes. “Look at the droods on Susan; she must have been working on the Smithers report all night.”
Two outstanding examples of rampant Droodism are shown below.
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| Mother T, hawk eyed and well drooded in search of good deeds to do. |
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| Neither Gandalf nor even mutant, but you gotta love those droods on Sir Ian. |
In another perhaps more just world, there would have been a picture of the Colonel
here, drooded extravagantly, but executive privilege prevents this.
Good taste, also.
Road Names
Road names are a tradition that probably goes back to Cain
on the road, fugitive and vagabond. As
long as there have been highways, people to travel on them and highwaymen to come
riding (riding, riding, up to the old inn door,) anyone leaving home has had
an opportunity to become, for the nonce, someone else. I mean, who’s gonna know different when a city boy is
somewhere severely rural on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan?
In this light, one had to wonder who those people really were who gathered at the Tabard Inn for the pilgrimage to Canterbury.
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| The Tabard inn, Southwark, mid-19th century. |
Oddly, some people who need a road name don’t have one –
consider Phineas Fogg, supposed bank robber.
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| Phileas Fogg by Alphonse de Neuville & Léon Benett in the first (1873) edition of Around the World.... |
While other people who need a road name display a dandy example
of the type – William Bonney, well known
psychopath.
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| Mr Bonney, badly in need of new haberdashery. You can tell him. |
And still other people, who you would think to be severely in need a road name, don’t have one
not even of any kind – I give you Bonnie and Clyde, repeat diagnosis above.
The Colonel mulled a number of possibilities as
submitted for his consideration by the One Lap ad hoc committee on tasteful road name selection:
Some were too close to home:
Crazy Cooter
Some were much too cute: Lost Sheep
Some were too silly: Nanner Puddin’
Some really good ones were already taken: Tater
Salad
Some were simply too much: Preston Trombly III
Some required more chutzpa than even the Colonel can muster:
Yakub Bageloff
So after mature consideration of this is a very important
matter, which effects the tone of the entire One Lap enterprise, the Colonel decided to avoid
the nom de road question entirely and remain simply who he is, yours truly …
By the time I figured out how to make a comment, I forgot my comment.
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