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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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He pulled his ear and his face flushed.
[Pause for---Flush noise off]
As I said, he pulled his ear and his face flushed.
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Never ever go to a sporting event that has a significant proportion of its supporters made up of little girls.
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Well it is that sad time of year yet again. All over the country in overcrowded broiler fields poor little underage Christmas trees are facing chain saws---and facing up to this annual slaughter we at People for the Ethical Treatment of Christmas Trees (or as it’s more commonly known PETFir ) will be out in force again.
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Hey man! I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but youse guys are really hung up on rules, I mean when it comes to grammar you are. It’s enough to needle old Gammer Gurton.
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There is an old saying “Less is more” and it is nicely illustrated, I think, by a comparison of the obscene gestures current in The States, the United Kingdom and in France.
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It is really horrible being a writer. I was up at 2 am this morning ... cleaning those little pan things that reside under the burners on the stove with baking soda—anything rather than work on this essay.
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The other week in one of these essays I mentioned “King Billy” and “Olly”. As you no doubt realised at the time, I did this in an attempt to clarify the point that I was making... whatever that might have been... I forget...
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Herebeorht, my twelve-year-old, keeps telling me I need to get a life, but I’m sure I have one---it’s just that most of the communicating I do in it involves my fingers rather than my tongue!
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Isn't it fascinating how words and phrases sometimes become imbued with a mystery and glamour that is more than they can justly claim. Oh I don’t just mean those holders of vast, powerful and almost meaningless concepts like “justice” or “freedom of the individual”, “love” or “doctor recommended”. No I am thinking on a more personal, a more idiolectal, level. Let me give you an example.
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Oh Damn! While I was in England I meant to do a piece on how Americans can’t pronounce the names of their towns and cities, or at least not the names they stole from us, but I forgot, so now I can’t get at you from a safe distance, but since it is an interesting idea I think I’ll risk it anyway.
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