"The Paperlessly Wallpapered I.O'U. Papers" (No. 45)
Tuesday, 01 June 2010, 3:45 AM
No mean bones
By Ivan O’Uris
My uncle
Hasn’t a mean bone in his body.
But he has hateful hair,
Scathing skin,
Malicious muscles
And obnoxious orifices and ocular organs.
So much for not having a mean bone in his body.
Background Notes: Ivan considered buying someone’s bones, thinking it might elevate him to legendary status in the literary community for being an eccentric, brilliant poet. He was inspired to do so from hearing about the unsuccessful attempt by a popular, controversial, now-dead entertainer – who shall remain nameless (and dead) – to buy the bones of Joseph Carey Merrick (a.k.a., “The Elephant Man”).
Ivan wanted to buy a famous person’s bones and searched museums, auctions and classified ads worldwide to find bones for sale. He had nearly abandoned hope when he learned of an auction in Tasmania that would allow people to bid on the bones of Gerald P. Havish, an activist who gained notoriety in Tasmania for helping legalize the imitation of wombats. Unfortunately, Ivan works as a newspaper journalist, meaning he makes even less money than the street performer who tries to rake in coins by rolling on top of aluminum cans and shrieking, “My camera can’t stop the goat’s glockenspiel from tickling the chin of your taco salad’s schlitterhauser!” Thus, Ivan could afford only Havish’s collarbone.
In 2005, a team of Ivan O’Uris scholars found “No mean bones” underneath said collarbone in Ivan’s apartment. There’s much dispute among the scholars as to the bone’s temperament when the poem was discovered.
Some More Background Notes (Which the Folks at Mutt Media Must Give Away Before They Spoil Worse Than the Month-Old Tuna Salad in the Mutt Media LLC Refrigerator): The above poem was published, with lots of changes, long ago (circa 2005) in print and online by The Examiner, a six-day-a-week newspaper in Jackson County, Mo. If you visit the paper’s Web site (www.examiner.net), you’ll see it has seemingly been sucked up, slurped, gurgled, gargled and tickled into a black hole of the cyber-space ether. Its appearance here has been underwritten by the James R. Hoffa Center for Vanishing Poems (and Other Stuff), also known as the True Trust for Untrustworthily Trusting Trustfulness and Trusses.
©Circa 2005-2010 Mutt Media LLC. All rights reserved.
By Ivan O’Uris
My uncle
Hasn’t a mean bone in his body.
But he has hateful hair,
Scathing skin,
Malicious muscles
And obnoxious orifices and ocular organs.
So much for not having a mean bone in his body.
Background Notes: Ivan considered buying someone’s bones, thinking it might elevate him to legendary status in the literary community for being an eccentric, brilliant poet. He was inspired to do so from hearing about the unsuccessful attempt by a popular, controversial, now-dead entertainer – who shall remain nameless (and dead) – to buy the bones of Joseph Carey Merrick (a.k.a., “The Elephant Man”).
Ivan wanted to buy a famous person’s bones and searched museums, auctions and classified ads worldwide to find bones for sale. He had nearly abandoned hope when he learned of an auction in Tasmania that would allow people to bid on the bones of Gerald P. Havish, an activist who gained notoriety in Tasmania for helping legalize the imitation of wombats. Unfortunately, Ivan works as a newspaper journalist, meaning he makes even less money than the street performer who tries to rake in coins by rolling on top of aluminum cans and shrieking, “My camera can’t stop the goat’s glockenspiel from tickling the chin of your taco salad’s schlitterhauser!” Thus, Ivan could afford only Havish’s collarbone.
In 2005, a team of Ivan O’Uris scholars found “No mean bones” underneath said collarbone in Ivan’s apartment. There’s much dispute among the scholars as to the bone’s temperament when the poem was discovered.
Some More Background Notes (Which the Folks at Mutt Media Must Give Away Before They Spoil Worse Than the Month-Old Tuna Salad in the Mutt Media LLC Refrigerator): The above poem was published, with lots of changes, long ago (circa 2005) in print and online by The Examiner, a six-day-a-week newspaper in Jackson County, Mo. If you visit the paper’s Web site (www.examiner.net), you’ll see it has seemingly been sucked up, slurped, gurgled, gargled and tickled into a black hole of the cyber-space ether. Its appearance here has been underwritten by the James R. Hoffa Center for Vanishing Poems (and Other Stuff), also known as the True Trust for Untrustworthily Trusting Trustfulness and Trusses.
©Circa 2005-2010 Mutt Media LLC. All rights reserved.