January 7, 2008
We’ve been known to spritz all over the blogosphere like an aerosol can and on occasion, our dedicated readership gets to inhale vapors of a more “culturally uplifting” variety, if you will—different from what they may choke on recreationally or use to tag the side of a bus.
The shrewder among you may have noticed our novelty bobble-head nod to simile and metaphor in the opening paragraph, a tribute of sorts, to the theme of this posting: not opening night at the ballpark, but verse.
For some, poetry is the ABCB rhyme scheme in a bathroom stall, the gentleman from Nantucket, a wedding toast limerick that embarrassed the family of the bride, or some throwaway snippet of pop music (for example, an ABBA disco rhyme scheme courtesy of ABBA). If you turned on the radio in the 70s for instance, or came upon a classic rock station whose play list had atrophied like gray matter in a police precinct, you’d have heard what is quite possibly the worst verse ever set to music in the English language, “Love Hurts”, by Nazareth:
I really learned a lot,
Really learned a lot,
Love is like a flame,
It burns you when it’s hot.
For others, those who slogged through the Canterbury Tales or Beowulf in college before movie versions of either could hit the big screen as a study aid, as well as the general public, the name ‘Robert Frost’ is synonymous with man of verse, New England and Pulitzer hog.
Frost made the news recently, not because he came back from the dead to wow a new generation of freestyle rappers with stanzas, but because his former Vermont homestead was recently the target of drunk vandals as some 50 minors, taking the road less traveled by (actually, a dead-end road off Route 125), converged on the historic landmark for a raucous party. 
According to police reports, “Empty beer bottles and cans, plastic cups and cellophane apparently used to hold marijuana were also found [and] vandals vomited in the living room and discharged two fire extinguishers inside the building.”
According to a local sergeant, wicker furniture and dressers were smashed and burned, to provide heat in the unheated structure.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
We trashed the Frost home this Friday
How ’bout you?
