CRAIG CONLEY (Prof. Oddfellow) is recognized by Encarta as “America’s most creative and diligent scholar of letters, words and punctuation.” He has been called a “language fanatic” by Page Six gossip columnist Cindy Adams, a “cult hero” by Publisher’s Weekly, a “monk for the modern age” by George Parker, and “a true Renaissance man of the modern era, diving headfirst into comprehensive, open-minded study of realms obscured or merely obscure” by Clint Marsh. An eccentric scholar, Conley’s ideas are often decades ahead of their time. He invented the concept of the “virtual pet” in 1980, fifteen years before the debut of the popular “Tamagotchi” in Japan. His virtual pet, actually a rare flower, still thrives and has reached an incomprehensible size. Conley’s website is OneLetterWords.com.
It was the oldest trick in the book, when you stripped away all of the mind-bending monkey business, it was a diversion! —George Parker, The Atomic Kid (2003)
Diversion’s the oldest trick in the book. . . . If something in front of you seems really out of character, you should look behind you. —Karl C. Klein, Makaila’s Legacy (2001)
Saint Metafora taught a simple message that calmed the troubled minds
of her followers: "A disturbing conclusion is simply the result of
making the wrong kind of analogy." Her collected sayings, "The
Similitudes," popularized the phrase "X is like Y," which became a
mantra of sorts among her disciples. That mantra was commonly
misheard as "excess likewise" by the general public, leading to the
widespread misunderstanding that Saint Metafora preached a life of
overindulgence. Today, Saint Metafora is perhaps best known for
her controversial sermon entitled "The Watchmaker Analogy: Who Has Time
For It?"
Leave, why don’t you? But when you come crawling back, be careful
not to trip on the pieces of my shattered life that you left in your
wake. Don’t worry—the pieces won’t cut you. Their edges
have long since been worn down.
Quick as a cobra, Sister Wilemina threw her sword. Not at the man, but straight down between his feet. The blade hit dirt and vibrated, and Badger’s eyes flew wide. The oldest trick in the book. As the pirate was distracted, the archer coiled an arm like an oak branch. Her knotty fist slammed Badger’s broad brisket and nearly dented his spine. —Clayton Emery, Jedit (2001)
Spin the dial at every crossroad and let Fate lead your journey. This four-tiered oracle suggests which direction to turn and alerts to special circumstances along the way. Try out the Web version below and plot an exciting new journey on a map. Or download the standalone application for your notebook computer (links below). Just click!
<a target="_blank" href="/navigator/" title="Click here to launch the compass"><img width=595 height=568 src="/navigator/images/static.gif" border=0></a>
INSTRUCTIONS
Click to spin the dial and let Fate lead your journey. There are three ways to read the dial:
1. The inner wheel suggests which direction to turn. Consult this at every crossroad.
2. The edges alert to special circumstances along the way, like a cosmic tour guide.
3. The center encourages you to notice finer details along the way.
I dreamed that I had coffee and dessert with Lewis Thomas, who said the
most delightful things, such as: "I have grown fond of semicolons in
recent years. ... It is almost always a greater pleasure to come across
a semicolon than a period. The period tells you that that is
that; if you didn't get all the meaning you wanted or expected, anyway
you got all the writer intended to parcel out and now you have to move
along. But with a semicolon there you get a pleasant little
feeling of expectancy; there is more to come; read on; it will get
clearer."
Then I dreamed of sitting in a court of law, where "I witnessed a jury
trial over the placement of a semicolon," just as in THIS TIME I DANCE!
by Tama J. Kieves.
Denis Dimbleby Bagley: It's the oldest trick in the book. Priest on Train: Book? What book? Denis Dimbleby Bagley: The distortion of truth by association book. —How to Get Ahead in Advertising (1989)
Eliminating Bookshelf Clutter by Double-Booking Great Works of Literature
Call for Submissions: Chronogram Seeks Humor Writing
The theme: Help eliminate bookshelf clutter by double-booking great
works of literature. Please provide a title and one-line concept pitch
for a literary twofer, e.g.:
Huckleberry Finnegans Wake. A plucky lad and a runaway slave fall asleep
on a raft in the stream of consciousness.
Inherit the Wind in the Willows. A mole, a rat, and a toad are brought
to trial by weasels for daring to believe in evolution.
Moby-Dick-and-Jane. "Look, Ishmael! See Dick breach. Breach, Dick, breach!"
Deadline September 15. Chronogram, an arts and culture magazine
serving the Hudson River Valley, seeks entries for its "Joined at the
Hip" humor contest. Winners receive a T-shirt. Send 1-3 entries to
fiction@chronogram.com, or by mail to 314 Wall Street, Kingston NY
12401.
Follow your blind determination and do what you have to do. When
you’ve finally had your way, and you brush the swarming flies off my
dead body, you’ll notice that I’ve left you a present—
a t-shirt that proclaims ‘I made my choice.’ Wear it proudly.
I dreamed that I had written a novel with two other people (unknown to
me now), and that I had forgotten about it until we all started
discussing it. As we talked, detail after detail came back to my
mind vividly. They eventually had to go, and I was distressed
because (as I told them) if we could just talk a little longer then I'd
be able to remember the entire book. Remembrance of the story
gave me tremendous joy. Though our project was a book, the
memories of the story were very visual (like a graphic novel or comic
book), and it was similar to reconstructing a movie in one's
mind. I must have been somewhat lucid, because a part of me
hoped to be able to remember the whole thing so as to be able to
reconstruct it upon waking up. I also wondered (somewhat
suspiciously) if the book wasn't actually a bunch of nonsense--the sort
of thing that makes sense in the dream world but that would translate
as gibberish were I to transcribe it upon waking. I willed myself
to have a photographic memory of the story just in case it really was
as good and sensical as it was in the dream world.
I dreamed of a planet with two moons. The lower moon slowly waned
away. Then I dreamed I had corrective surgery to remove my comma
half. I was a period! I indicated the full pause with which
the utterance of a sentence closes. Mine was a pregnant silence.
I woke up feeling uneasy, however, sensing that the period is mightier than the semicolon.
When I fell back asleep, I had a nightmare. I was being chased by
a character called "the Flotz," who gobbles up punctuation. In
fact, it was eerily like in the poem "The Flotz" by Jack Prelutsky: "I
chomp on commas half the day, / quotation marks are rarer prey, / a
semicolon's quite a treat, / while polka dots are joys to eat."
The over-worked grammarian started having subjunctive moods:
"If only I were in Bora Bora!"
"Far be it for me to complain, come rain or shine."
"As it were, I'm stuck here."
"Be that as it may, I still have a headache."
Feel my cold hands. They are nothing compared to the chill you
have left in my heart. Where’s the champagne? Where are the
balloons? Why aren’t we celebrating your triumph? You have
what you always wanted.
