Get Fuzzy by Darby Conley for March 22, 2023

Perfectly boring, sorry Satch!

You are technically correct — the best kind of correct.

Leaves something to the imagination.

Not really. There’s no seasonal aspect, and I think he’s got too many ‘on’ (not that that’s essential)

Now this is a haiku, AND it’s a limerick (I call them Hairimeraku)

Autumn rain drips, / Walking girl slips. / Yobs cry “Ha!“ / Boo!” and “Ya!” / —-Foolish quips.

Hack up another one Satchel! No, Satchel is good natured, that would be more like Bucky, the “Hair ball King”!

I hope this doesn’t start a barrage of haikus. They tend to breed like limericks.

Nope, not ‘technical perfection’; it’s missing a ‘season word’…

Reminds of Dave Barry’s haiku: A dog is barking / Bark bark bark bark bark bark bark Bark bark bark bark bark

Perfectly boring,Sorry Satch! That just won’t do; Needs more empathy!

Perfectly boring,

Sorry Satch! That just won’t do;

Needs more empathy!

Satchel is technically correct. The best kind of correct.

Actually, quite moving. In the sense that it moved through ALL of the whole numbers between 0 & 14.

I always thought it was interesting that Twitter posts were limited to 140 characters,* the same as the number of syllables in a sonnet.

*No longer the case, of course.

Hai-cool!

Traditional Japanese haiku has six rules to its construction. It’s Western sloth that reduced it to a syllable count.

Besides a seasonal reference, it also lacks a kiregi or “cutting word”. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kireji Syllable count is the least important characteristic and modern and even classic Japanese hokku may vary from that slightly. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haiku

Ducks are cute; geese not

Park your car in the garage

Or you’ll be sorry.

Ah, so desu ka …!

Better than Buckys speech about Muppets.

I am shocked, SHOCKED by Satchel’s blatant disregard of formalism.

A haiku without nature imagery is like a limerick that isn’t filthy!

To be fair, it’s better than most of the horrible, horrible poetry out there. Poetry is the karaoke of writing.

High school English. 1950s. Assignment to read a poem aloud to the class. I chose something from O. Henry – rejected. Suggested a limerick – rejected. Suggested The Cremation of Sam McGee – emphatically rejected. I asked about a selection from Ulysses – teacher (not thinking of James Joyce) agreed. She stopped me on about the third line and I never had to read a poem in class again.

English hates haiku. Syllables, like April snow, melt and flow away.

Satchel the writer

has amazed Rob once again.

How does he do it?