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Here is a Sup—I mean repository of the texts of my together with some readings of them. The essays were broadcast by WXXI 91.5 Classical of Rochester, NY on Salmagundy each Saturday at 9:35am Eastern Time, from the beginning of time (1985) till May 2009 when Entropa (evil Goddess of Change-for-the-Worse-or-Possibly-the-Worst) troubled the minds of the WXXIites and they retired Simon and Salmagundy, and Rochester went into a terminal decline---for ever.
I continued on that brilliant bastion of all that's good and kultured, WCLV's syndicated Weekend Radio on many (mainly NPRish) stations traditionally on the first and third weekends of the month, though weekendage varied, till the horror crept ever onward and that too was devoured (in August 2023, a date which will live in infamy or at lease mild irritation)... and only I remain, defiant though wimpering.
Richard Howland-Bolton
There are pop-up pics and links all over the place here. In text they are indicated by a double underline like this:
mouse-overing brings the pop-up up and clicking (usually) goes to the link |
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My Dear Americans,
We just got a visit from [pause] the Shrouders.
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A Specially Christmassy Christmas Special
We are rapidly approaching the time of year when visions of dancing sugar-plums (whatever they are) are driven from children’s heads by more serious concerns of lift, drag, acceleration, weight-to-power ratios, and the physics of Santa and the sleigh and Redolf the Rude Nosed Reindeer1 and all that company.
Sadly I must now disabuse the imaginative little tykes of one of the traditional first principles of their calculations. You see…
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I haven’t had a good rant for ages...
So!
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Columbus , of course, didn't discover America: he didn't intend to discover America, didn't think he had discovered America, and most decidedly wasn't even the first European to reach America. So, naturally, this Monday we celebrated (or at least observed) Columbus Day---presumably to help him get over the awful misery of his triple disappointment.
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Well here we are once again back at that time of year when all I can think to essay about is pollen: all I can write about is pollen; all I can speak about is pollen; all I can even think about is [Atishoo! Atishoo! --- Atishoo!] bloody pollen.
As I think I’ve told you before, I am a martyr to the sex life of trees.
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Nobody---not Leonardo, not Einstein, not even me---nobody is good at absolutely everything.
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Thanksgiving Day having passed such a short time ago this seems an appropriate moment to look at the other side of the coin: at You'rewelcomegiving Day.
You'rewelcomegiving is that nonchalant, not-quite-smug, and rather indeterminately located holiday wherein we take the time to celebrate one of the only three things that America has ever given to the culture of the world that are totally unalloyed, pure, joyous improvements (the other two being of course the Marshall Plan and Carrot Cake). Everything else---McDonalds, Hollywood, saying (but obviously not meaning) "Have a nice day", pointlessly expensive and choice-ridden coffee---have all been unmitigated disasters and have been to the culture of the world the equivalent of bovine spongeform encephalopathy or at least of a nasty bout of foot fungus.
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Millennia ago...
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"Here we come a bovver boy among the leaves so green "An' here we come wiv' aggro to kick you in the spleen. "Lot's of ale unto us, you must give or we will cuss, "An' we'll thump you and, slag you off with words that are obscene, "An' we'll shout things that a-are quite obscene." ["Put the boot in, Trevor"]
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I just got a memo this morning that claims to be "From the desk of… well never you mind, you know how I always try to avoid embarrassing people in these essays"---and fighting down, with amazingly mature restraint, my immediate reaction to reply "Dear desk, would you please tell your damned owner to send his own bloody memos, and while I’m at it, I rather resent being addressed in such familiar terms by inanimate objects, especially when they are collections of cheap tin, particle board and imitation formica held together with too few screws!"… when I suddenly thought: Why?
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