Dear Friends of the Pub Quiz,
As I write to you on this Labor Day morning, my French Bulldog is sprawled out in the grass of our back yard, her nose about three inches from where the morning sun is slowly invading out yard. This is the longest stretch she has ever spent untethered outside, so I imagine she is contemplating rascalry. Atypically, both my boys are asleep at this early hour, and thus I have a few minutes for the newsletter and to write a poem.
My wife Kate has been in Denver all weekend (for those of you keeping score, last weekend, it was Chicago), so the boys and I are getting less done around thee house than usual, though I am keeping up with my grading and my poetry self-assignments. Sometimes while researching a pub quiz question, I come across strange and rejected topics, such as the water-spinach known as “swamp cabbage.” Such a phrase might prompt associative thoughts about whatever is nearby, such as my dog, and then I am writing instead of grading.
Indeed, a day off in the back yard gives me the perfect opportunity to make up stories about our French bulldog Margot, to explore outrageous hyperbole in the form of a sonnet. Robert Hass once said that “You owe the truth nothing; you owe the poem everything.” “Appetite” is my mendacious response to that:
Appetite
While I was distracted, the dog swallowed the lobster whole.
Thereafter, she ran right up the palm tree as if aided by rocketry
and returned with palm body parts, in fact, with the heart of the palm in her jaws.
Energized she buried and dug up again swamp-cabbages in the back yard;
not the small ones, mind you, that are more ornamental than functional,
but the huge variegated swamp-cabbages that could sustain a borscht.
Not satisfied with mere Nylabone, Kong puzzle treats, or sawed-off antlers,
our 4-H hound considers a wide range of tubers, from the Jerusalem artichoke
to the hog potato, to the white flame Chinese yam, to be fair game.
We find their roots, their stems and rinds, splintered on the front stoop.
Masked, she prefers to burgle, and not herself to have been burgled.
Indeed, she once chased a burglar, a flimflam man, into the sunflower patch,
returning with burglar remnants, with what might be called “deliverables.”
Such excursions remind us that our Fido favors the flavors of flesh over fiber.
Sometimes I think that our animal companions allow themselves to be “domesticated” only to humor us, and to keep the kibbles coming. Craving adventure, they might chase after all their appetites if someone were not here to guide them. In this way, our dogs are like most people we know.
Tonight’s Pub Quiz may feature questions about some of the topics raised above, as well as the following: prime numbers, elevators, headquarters, election results, trail-blazers, popular music, social security, serpent similes, regretful teammates, late starts, Dana Gioia, ungulates, teenagers with adult responsibilities, world capitals, commonwealths, seconds of screen-time, Penguin classics, web browsers, opportunities for percussion, the suffering that comes from having one’s eyes opened, best friends, repeated fates, military words, big tech companies, Colorado culture, local heroes, elemental humans, little fires and big fines, the smell of happiness, voice actors, national slogans, and Shakespeare. I regret that the lack of questions about swamp-cabbages.
Poetry Night is Thursday. Join us at the Natsoulas Gallery at 8. Meanwhile, see you tonight at de Vere’s Irish Pub, everyone’s favorite eatery!
Your Quizmaster
https://www.yourquizmaster.com
P.S. Here are three questions from last week’s quiz:
- Irish Culture. What west coast county of Ireland shares a name with what 2018–2019 U.S. News & World Report calls the best hospital in the United States?
- Countries of the World. The largest and most populous city in Western Asia has more than 8.8 million residents in the city and 15 million in the larger metropolitan area. In what country is it found?
- Chicago Nicknames. What is the affectionate local nickname for the remarkable reflective Chicago sculpture called “Cloud Gate”?
P.S. “Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.” Agnes Sligh Turnbull