Our benediction today is a cheerful little jingle composed by Charles Heber Clark for his book Out of the Hurly-Burly. When he cranked this out, he was thinking of Julia Moore, who made a nice living cranking out mawkish odes to dead children back in the day, and therefore was too good a target to leave alone. Mark Twain took a more enduring swing at Ms. Moore's trade in Huckleberry Finn, but I can't help but love Clark's bit of purple poesy:
Willie had a purple monkey climbing on a yellow stick,
And when he sucked the paint all off it made him deathly sick;
And in his latest hours he clasped that monkey in his hand,
And bade good-bye to earth and went into a better land.
Oh! no more he'll shoot his sister with his little wooden gun;
And no more he'll twist the pussy's tail and make him yowl for fun.
The pussy's tail now stands out straight; the gun is laid aside;
The monkey doesn't jump around since little Willie died.
Yes, that's referring to a cat, you filthy children. And if you didn't get a giggle out of that (the poem and my follow-up), you might as well give up on us right now.
The name we ended up going with is from Alexander Pope's satirical epic poem which "celebrated" the agents of decay and stupidity in 18th century England. If you followed my work at all on Tiny Money Land--and honestly, why would you?--you know that it never ceases to amaze me how thick people are becoming these days. Like it says at the top of the page, it makes me dumber just thinking about it. So rather than suffer alone, I decided to drag a few net pals into a whole new collaborative nightmare. And you get to watch!
My goal in this enterprise is based on a couple of unfortunately trendy poses: we're the normal ones and the rest of those jerks with their fingers up their asses have to go. It'll hopefully be funny once in awhile, but when it isn't, let's just pretend I did it on purpose.
If nothing else, this will be an exercise in the contributors keeping each other on their toes. That includes you too, comment field boys and girls.