Elvis is Dead, Y'all

He didn't listen to his mama when she said "Boy, don't you evah eat 13000-calorie sandwiches!"

Recipe for the King's fav Fool's Gold sandwich (aka, 5 easy steps to a fatal heart attack (aka, Lethal Weapon 5)):

1. Warm up a whole loaf of white bread in the oven.

2. Hollow out the middle.

3. Spread a jar of peanut butter on one side, a jar of jelly on the other.

4. Layer up the inside with a pound of bacon.

5. Eat and perish.

Serves: 1

Reply

Ms. Chung

I realized too late that you were not Sarah....wrong hair color...but I thought "how could anyone look so much like her but not BE her"? I nearly returned to apologize but didn't want to increase my embarrassment. Give my regards to your sister. And you too have a great summer.

WAC

Yet Another Case of Mistaken Identity and the Ensuing Email

Hi Professor Clee,

It occurred to me that you were mistaking me for my twin sister, Sarah (who was in your 412 class this past semester) today at Van Pelt. It took me a while to realize who you were because I only went to your first class. Anyway, that's why I looked at you funny, that's all. Have a nice summer. If that wasn't you at the library, then feel free to ignore this email and maybe have a laugh over it.

Angie Chung

A Trip to the Loo Takes Longer Than Expected

"We are all terminal cases."

This is the kind of graffiti one can only find at a Barnes and Noble bathroom. I won't begin to tell you how long I sat on that toilet, trying to figure out what book/movie that line came from. It was long after I left the bathroom that the answer finally came to me...I'll let you google it if you don't know.

Undesirable Findings

Oh ew. I just found a pile of fingernail clippings next to the computer. I can't decide whether I'm more disgusted or disturbed.

Lowbrow Graffiti

Walking down Walnut...

Sarah: Haha, look Ann, someone wrote "Scarface dies in the end" on the wall!

Angie: Hahaha, that's hilarious! Heeheeheehoooooo!...Have we ever seen that movie?

Sarah: No, I don't think so.

Angie: Oh. (Silence.) Hm. Not so funny anymore.

W.H. Auden

I heard this on "Four Weddings and a Funeral":

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,

I thought that love would last forever: ‘I was wrong’

The stars are not wanted now, put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

These words don't reflect my current mood in the least bit, but still, I've never heard such a perfect expression of grief before I heard this poem from Auden's "Funeral Blues" delivered in a clear, plaintive voice with the rolling r's of a Scotsman.

It Ain't Over 'Til--

The Fat Lady has sung- ow ow owwwww!!!!