Dada42

String Teary

There once was an enchanted cello
That was painted in three shades of yellow
It sang and it wept
And it cried till it slept
'Cos its bow wouldn't let it just bellow

Nightfall on Harsh Mistress

Attracted by traces of oxygen, Fahrenzeit-451 landed beside a construction of tanks, pipes and mirrors. It watched and waited, until a machine trundled by, laden with rocks.

 

"I, from Vulcan, seek Life," radioed Fahrenzeit-451.

From Jazz to Rock 'n Pop, and Beyond

Scratching an itch to add fresh music -- jazz -- to my collection, I was upstairs at HMV.

Silently, I cursed the pounding bass and screeching treble from downstairs, drowning out our first floor jazz. It's a long time since I felt welcome and comfortable in the rock section, I mused, perusing the sparse collection of jazz, mostly old, except for a couple of Melody Gardot albums already ensconced in my collection.

I have the kind of ears that listen. Downstairs had found something quiet to play, and HMV were treating us upper atmosphere souls to a woman's voice I didn't recognize, delvering a gutsy mix of jazz and rockabilly.

"Who's that?" I asked an assistant.

Haiku

soul in spirit sings
the Force of Ten Thousand Things
springs universal

Return to Sender

A short-short idiomatic story ...

SpacePort Master Smith radioed Lewis. "Your ship just came in," he said. "She's worse than rudderless. No Captain, no crew. Derelict."

"Have the rats deserted her? What are you waiting for? Find the Captain's log and read the last entry to me."

"Okay, Mister Lewis. Wait while we find it."

"Hurry up, man. I haven't got all orbit," said Lewis. "What do I pay you for? It's not like abandoned spaceships visit your miserable port every day. Run a tight ship, dammit."

"Okay, Mister Lewis, here's the log. The last entry says, 'We discovered a virgin planet. We wiped the ship's memory. Neither ship nor you will ever find us. At last we are free.' " Smith paused. "It's signed, Captain, Retired, Lewis Jr"

Some SF Limericks

There was a young Jedi called Luke
Who flew fast and low with a nuke
He blew up the DeathStar
And slew his bad Father
And wrote it all down in a book

There's more where that came from, all just as silly ...

Al One

A story in 50 words exactly ...

Making tea, Al burned his finger.

"Damn," he said, "Pot—hot!"

Then later, "I live alone in a tree. I talk to myself. Why?"

Tea finished, pot cold, Al said, "Do other people who live alone in trees talk to themselves?"

He climbed down from his tree to go ask.

Representation Reprehensible

No thought is

In politician's minds

For the people

They represent

Why Dada42?

Dada was an art movement that protested against the artistic establishment of the turn of the century with absurdity. In addition to art shows they would hold poetry readings where, much to the consternation of establishment types, each poem consisted solely of the word 'dada', repeated.

42 was Deep Thought's answer to the ultimate question.

So, why Dada42?

Why not?

Fundamental Freedom

Tit

Tat

Tit Tit Tit

Tat Tat Tat Tat Tat Tat TAT

TIT TIT TIT TIT TIT TIT TIT TIT TIT ...

                                                                                   BOOM!