Voting for the Silliest Thing Contest

So not too long ago I launched another contest, this one rather spontaneous and impromptu based on something asinine SJ over at Snobbery had alerted me to that day.  (Thanks, SJ!)  Lots of people entered with truly inane contributions, some of them more than one.  Yay!

So now it’s time for you to vote on the following entries to my Silliest Thing You’ve Ever Heard Contest, and the winner of the most votes will be offered a guest blog spot on Sappho’s Torque this summer!  (Details to be negotiated with the winner at a later time.)  If you want to read the original posts from participants in this contest, just click on the link above, in this paragraph, and read the comments section of the original post.  (You can find working links to some of the entries there as well, in case the ones in the poll itself don’t work for you.)

You may vote every day if you like.  Be sure to tell others about this incredibly unscientific poll as well.  I look forward to finding out who wins!  The poll closes in one week.

May the best crazy-talk win!

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Silliest Thing Contest Update

Hey there.  You have until this coming Sunday night to post the silliest thing you’ve ever heard in the comments section of the original post about that.  Then I will collate all the responses into a new post, and you can all vote on what you think is the best.  The winner will be offered a spot as a guest blogger here at Sappho’s Torque this summer (date to be mutually agreed upon).

Good luck!

The Silliest Thing You’ve Ever Heard Of

So I happened upon this absolutely INANE piece of rubbish today.  It posits that — if I understand correctly — if you believe in global warming, you are most likely a serial killer.  Something like that.

I know, I know, it’s hard to believe “it takes all kinds” when something this BSC comes out.  In its defense, though, this “article” makes a good object lesson on manipulative writing and logical fallacy.

It made me wonder, though:  What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?

Post your response in the comments section, and then we can all share in the insanity.  The person who posts the funniest Most Asinine Thing will get…something.  Not sure yet what.  But something, no doubt.

Go.

Another Poetry Challenge

So here’s a little game for you, should you choose to accept it.  (I’m guessing at least one or two of you might.)  And it’s a contest.

It’s a popular technique these days to write poems which are inspired by fragments of poetry written by other people.  The idea is to build your own new poem around something you’ve seized upon, but to italicize the text you’ve borrowed so that it stands out from your own words.

I’ve done this below with some fragments of Sappho.  (The snippets I’ve chosen are italicized.)

Here’s your challenge:  You pick a poem, any poem, which has some words in it you like.  Then let your ideas grow around those pieces of verse into something else which is your own entirely.  Write in any form or style.  (The piece I’ve included below is a prose-poem.)  Then post your new poem into the comments section of this blog post.

I recognize writing a poem like this can take a while, so the contest will be open until the end of this month, midnight central time on the evening of March 31st.  Depending on how many entries there are, there may even be a readers’ choice run-off for the best poem.  The winner will win a lovely book — which book, I haven’t decided yet, because I’d like the prize to be tailored to fit the winning entry in some way.

Here’s an example for you, a prose-poem I wrote entitled (coincidentally) “Sappho’s Torque.”  (And yes, the poem was written before I began this blog.)  If you don’t know any other poems that you’d want to borrow text from, feel free to take the Sapphic snippets from mine here (or any other fragment of this poem, should you so desire).  Regardless of which poem you borrow from, be sure to acknowledge where your italicized stuff came from.

I’m looking forward to reading your entries!  Happy writing.

***

Sappho’s Torque

“It is too much to bear,” she said, “this weighing upon my mind.”

The roses in the garden burst in full floribundance, infusing the air with decadence and coloring the day and even the night with their velvet flesh.  “Beauty is as beauty does,” they told her, and she thought then that the garden must be the locus of outrageous fortune, a siren’s lair filled with killing thorns, slings and arrows.  So it is thus, she knew, that she first came to love the very idea of love, so often the gift of the image of a demi-god, tempered by the grotesquerie of real life.

“I am tired,” he intimates, while she relents for the love of him.

Eros, she thinks, melter of limbs, you who imprison me now again, are the sweetbitter unmanageable creature who steals in, who ignites my dependence and fuels it with my passion; you burn me.

She thinks that birds will fall into sea, that worms will climb the walls of the house, that lizards will come into the kitchen looking for food.  And only she will be awake to notice.