We believe in one Asimov
Father of the Three Laws.
maker of the Galactic Encyclopedia and the positronic brain,
Of all that is Foundation.

We believe in one Heinlein,
Creator of the lantern-jawed, jingoistic know-it-all,
Eternally spinning yarns,
Wisdom from wisdom, rebellion from rebellion,
True old goat from true old goat,
Self-made, not begotten, in on being with the Old Ones,
through him all things are grokked,
For us and our many dollars
He sat down at his typewriter,

By the power of being flat broke,
He was delivered of “Life-Line” and became a Writer

For publicity’s sake he was crucified under Mrs. Grundy,
He prospered, grew rich and was famous
in the third week, he wrote again,
In fulfillment of his contract,
He ascended into stardom,
And is seated at his word-processor,
He will write again to poke fun at all Sacred Cows
And his royalties will have no end.

We believe in one Clark,
The giver of HAL,
From whom proceeds IBM and Kubrick,
With Asimov and Heinlein he is worshipped and glorified,
He has spoken through the monolith.

We believe in one slavering, insane fandom,
We acknowledge one Convention for new fanzines to form,
We look for the regeneration of the new Doctor
and to boldly go where no man has gone before.

© 1993, Noël Lynne Figart

Hey, It’s Can(n)on
Words and Music © 2006 by Tom Smith
Released under a Creative Commons Noncommercial ShareAlike License
Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R.
Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of and © Warner Bros. Ent. All Rights Reserved. Characters are used without permission. No challenge to copyright is intended, nor should such challenge be construed.

Ye’ve read the Harry Potter books, ye think ye know ‘em through
But there’s something that ye may not know, and here’s a little clue:
The female of the Trio has her birthday on
Talk Like A Pirate Day so heads up, Harry and Ron!

When she found out, her eyes she rolled, an’ she went on knittin’ socks,
But Harry said, “I’ve got the gold, let’s head down to the docks,”
They traded lots o’ Galleons for a lovely brigantine,
And now they’re her young stallions and she’s a pirate queen!

Come here, ye lads and lasses, I tell ye, she’s the one,
Give a cheer and raise yer glasses, but not till class is done
Though she’s only seventeen, she’s smarter than Dumbledore,
Hermione Granger, the Pirate Queen, the pride of Gryffindor!

Her white shirt and black leather they complement her eyes,
A red sash brings it t’gether (and the boots half up her thighs)
Cap’n Hook’s a fan and Jack Sparrow thinks it’s great,
It’s in the books, it’s canon, so let’s all celebrate!

Hoist the mainsil’, wind the capstan, give it all ye got,
The firewhiskey and th’ captain both are really hot,
Here’s a Happy Birthday to the girl that we adore,
Hermione Granger, the Pirate Queen, the pride of Gryffindor!

She taxidermied Pettigrew, and on the bridge he sat,
‘Cause after all, what pirate ship doesn’t have a rat?
She Incarcerous‘d young Malfoy so he could not escape,
And one Petrificus later, she made him walk the Snape!

Dolohov she’ll finish off, and Bellatrix she’ll foil,
Lucius’ll land in Azkaban and likewise Crabbe and Goyle,
She laughs at danger, thinks it’s keen — bring on Voldemor — TT!
Hermione Granger, the Pirate Queen, the pride of Gryffindor!

Now here’s the part we talk about with whom she’s lockin’ lips,
‘Cause after all, a pirate queen has got to have her ‘ships,
Some say Harry’s her true love, or Ron she will betroth,
She finally cried, “I can’t decide, I’ll have to have ‘em both!”

Who’s the sassy bossy witch that all the boys pursue?
Grander than the Golden Snitch and more elusive too.
One may Seeker, one may Keeper, both know how to score, with
Hermione Granger, the Pirate Queen, the pride of Gryffindor!

And so the Seven Seas she sails, in deadly hot pursuit
of getting perfect O.W.L.s and aceing every N.E.W.T.
Some think she’s just a bookworm, but I am here ta say
She’s got this pirate thing down cold every natal day!

Come here, ye lads and lasses, I tell ye, she’s the one,
Give a cheer and raise yer glasses, but not till class is done
She’ll go down in history, the one we’re singin’ for,
Hermione Granger, the Pirate Queen, the pride of Gryffindor!
Hermione Granger, the Pirate Queen, the pride of Gryffindor!

ME: Boy! Come downstairs!
muscle_boy: Yes, Mama?
Me: Son, I was trying to get out of cooking dinner.
muscle_boy: Thanks for being honest.
Me: (laughs) But in my contemplation, I thought that maybe we could make it a group effort. I’ll make a spaghetti sauce, if you’ll make the pasta.
muscle_boy: (punching the air) Yes!¹ But, what about Daddy?
Me: Daddy usually cleans up and I think that’s a valid contribution to dinner.
muscle_boy: Okay.

It was the “Thanks for being honest” part that got to me…

muscle_boy

I was given a snowblower and a wood stove late last summer.   The woodstove has been a grand and glorious thing, but it hadn’t snowed enough to need a snowblower up until rather recently.

We tried to use it Saturday and found that it was too heavy to use on a hill.

That didn’t make sense to me.  I know New England girls aren’t supposed to be the delicate flowers that we Virginians with our softer winters are.  But, the idea that I wasn’t strong enough to push a snow blower up a hill and use it didn’t set with what I figure the design parameters of the machine oughta be.  I’m as strong as some men…  And really wasn’t at home to dealing with shoveling a 17″ snowfall all on my lonesome if I could figure out a solution.

So, I called upon a technique hammered into me from before I could read.  It’s called the “What Happens Next Machine“.  You might remember it from your Sesame Street viewing if you’re between 35 and 45.   This is actually a fantastic lesson in theory v. practice, but it’s also a good lesson in tracing the problem.

So,  my snowblower…

Each handle has a lever you squeeze.  The left one controls whether or not the snow is blowing.  The right one controls… Oh. Wow.  It controls the drive mechanism on the wheels.  It is, in fact, a self-propelling machine.  (I kinda figured it had to be since it had a reverse control and all…)

So, using the principles of “What Happens Next”, I traced the cable from the right hand control to the machine.  It’s supposed to be a pull lever, but it’s loose.  Further examination shows that it is not hooked around a wheel that will pull it taut and decrease the friction on the cable when it’s pulled.   Voila!

So I sit down in the snow to fix it.  (My butt is still cold!)  What I don’t own is a toolbox with all the tools I really should have for things like this.  You know, ratchet wrench….   God, it took me forever to unscrew one confounded little bolt and because I was wearing sweats and not snow pants, my butt got wet.  But still, I fixed it and cleared off the driveway — mostly.   Snow blowers aren’t made to go down all the way to the pavement, darn it.  Good thing I have a 13 year old to take care of the rest.

I want a Girl Genius T-shirt, darn it.