Deadline to nominate is January 31. Good luck!
https://www.nobelpeaceprize.org/no/Nominasjon/Soeknadskjema-nominator
Yrs, -tor
Sendt fra min iPhone
13. sep. 2020 kl. 21:06 skrev david ritchie <profdritchie@xxxxxxxxx>:
Birds were among the first to notice; all except the crows fell silent. Even
Appenzeller, who ran the risk last week of having her throat wrung on account
of dawn cock-a-doodle-doing, has fallen silent, showing deference to whoever
is in charge of the Apocalypse. I was careful to explain that this was none
of my doing, that I am but a minor god living through an orange sky time in
the company of baffled chickens.
The air quality is worse even than Hanoi when we visited. I have the
central air running, not to cool the house but to push what I breathe through
the filter. Looking out my office window, I can see our trees, my neighbors'
bushes, the house to one side of them, the murky outline of trees behind
their house. Hamish wants to go for a walk. I don’t think so. Poor guy;
there are not even squirrels to harass. Everything has gone to ground.
This morning I found a stuffed penguin in the living room, felled by a
fireplace implement. Were I in the mood, I might sketch the “Curious Case of
the Penguin and the Poker." I put this posssibilty before the chickens when
I gave them melon seeds and strawberry tops. They stared at me. “The sky is
falling and you want to discuss the fate of a stuffed penguin? It’s stuffed.
Stuffed things don’t have fates.”
I decided that discussing stuffing with chickens was a no-win situation.
I believe “Shopping through the Apocalypse” would be a good title for
something. This came up because E and N and I went to a couple of estate
sales yesterday, searching for stuff for their new house. I found a box that
had once contained, “invincible” cigars. They were Edward VII brand and
whenever they were sold cost but a few cents apiece. I took a photo of the
box and left it for someone else to buy.
Preparing for tomorrow’s Zoom classes, my mind wanders to lines you don’t
read in P.G. Wodehouse. “Jeeves, would you warm the strawberries.” And then
I wonder if I should like to be nominated for a Pulitzer prize. A friend on
Facebook wrote that she discovered anyone could be nominated for a Nobel
Peace Prize and if the man in the White House wants that, why shouldn’t she?
Could look good on a vita, “Nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.” Perhaps I
should nominate the chickens?
I finished another play. Normally a play has to have had a large-scale
production to be eligible for the Pulitzer, but in the era of Covid the rules
have changed. One of you could nominate me even though the works have not
been fully staged. And why not? With the exception of some Greeks, hubris
has mostly been in fashion in history. Consider Genesis. The line isn’t
“the earth was pretty good considering it was made so rapidly.” Nope, the
words are “It was good, period.” If “above average” had been an option, I
bet you’d read that right there in the text. Reminds me somehow of peer
reviews by students, “Her writing is a bit wordy, but definitely worth an A.”
Have you been following the mess around Messi? World’s most talented and
expensive soccer player decides that enough is enough. Barcelona says, “But
you missed the deadline for registering your documents.” Messi goes, “What?”
Lots of people go, “This could get interesting.” Messi turns up to training
once again saying, “I’ll be playing…for the nonce.” Can you say exactly that
in Spanish, do you suppose? I have none.
Naomi Osaka won the U.S. Open, which is a pleasure to write. As for the poor
wrestler executed by Iran? You know those photos of coaches shouting
uselessly when the decision doesn’t go their way? That’s me on that subject.
I am about as able as one of those coaches to affect, far less effect,
change in Iran. I see Brits again won the wheelchair doubles, their fourth
U.S. Open tennis title.
And a woman rode the biggest wave of the year. You do need to watch the
video about her earlier attempt. Type Maya Gabeira’s Brush with Death into
your search engine when you are feeling strong of stomach. Here’s an account
of her recent success:
https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2020/09/maya-gabeira-surfed-biggest-wave-year/616216/
Bonkers. Completely. Like the sky.
David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon
