Did you ever have one of those weeks?
Where ‘the week that was’ still is?
Or is it the ‘week that will be’ still ain’t?
How about ‘the week that was never to have gone and supposed to be even remotely like this’ has gotten all pear-shaped?
And that’s the good news…
Cause I don’t like pears.
“Well, then…” you might type, in your very bestest, most sincerest Pee Wee Herman style of modern prestidigitation, “if you don’t like pears, how is the fact your week has gone a bit ‘pear-shaped’ to be considered good news?”
“First of all,” I keyed, in a manner quite befitting of Bogart, in The Maltese Falcon (which is to say, slowly, and filled more with smoke than smolder), “how are you even able to enter words onto your screen in such a manner that recalls such a bizarre television character from Saturday mornings long gone?”
“I’m trying to use the phonemes…”
“Next,” I pounded into the keyboard, with the sure-fire staccato of a finely-tuned and delicately balanced slice of liverwurst on an unsalted saltine (which is to say… ‘Huh?!?), “don’t you go and be getting all fruity with me. I don’t like pears; and nothing you can say or do is ever gonna change that.”
“Okay,” I input, with all the unerring accuracy of your local Live at Five Weather Crew™ (which is to say… ‘WOW… not even close…’), “I say, you could do that one thing… you know what I’m talking about… that thing you do, when we’re doing that other thing… and then you go… and then I go… yeah, maybe then…”
“But I don’t like pears. And not even cheese is gonna help that taste.”
Which, I know, sounds like a bit of moldy blasphemy.
Especially coming from me.
But that’s how bad I consider the taste of pears to be.
Maybe that’s why I only like the solo performances at ice skating competitions.
But I appear to have digressed…
Did you ever notice that the word ‘appear’ actually contains the word ‘pear’…?
Doesn’t that make you stop, and think?
What kind of sick, twisted mind game are they trying to pull over on us here?
Doesn’t that make you want to call a zombie-type Noah Webster into an imagined grammatical court of law, and give him the verbal tongue-lashing of his six-feet-under-the-weather life?
Or a pinch…?
“Are you insane – adj. not sane; not of sound mind; mentally deranged?
“Why would you include such a god-awful tasting fruit in the word for that concept which most everyone on the planet would rather die than not do a good job in the keeping up of…?”
“And – being a dictionary guy, and all – and while I have you here – did you understand that last sentence?”
“No further questions, your honor.”
“Does Defense have any questions for the accused?”
“Yes, Your Honor, we do.
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Webster, that you are a cousin of one Daniel Webster? The noted statesman and Senator from the great commonwealth of Massachusetts?
“And isn’t it also true, Mr. Webster, that when your cousin found himself embroiled in a contest with a certain, rather notorious personage, that you agreed to place the word ‘pear’ into the word ‘appear’, in an effort to swing the momentum of said contest towards your erstwhile cousin?
“And did you not, Mr. Webster, also agree to place said vulgar word into such other innocent ideas as: pearl, spearmint, speargun (which won’t even have been invented until a century after your death, Mr. Webster), and even such incompatible concepts as ‘disappear’ and ‘reappear’ – thus sowing confusion for all time?
“And just what, Mr. Webster, could I have possibly meant by using such a word as ‘erstwhile’ in the first place? Surely, Mr. Webster, even you would agree that cousinhood is a concept that does not end with the ceasing of ones’ physical essence.
“What was I thinking , Mr. Webster?”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Counsel, the Court is wondering whether or not you understand your assigned role in this case. It would seem to be that you’re prosecuting, rather than defending.”
“Yes, Your Honor, we are. The Defense is of the impression that, where the use of the word ‘pear’ is concerned, there is no defense.”
“So noted. The Court finds for the Prosecution. And the Defense. The accused is hereby sentenced to an eternity of disgust and loathing by school children everywhere. The jurors and all officials of the Court, as well as all those now in attendance, are ordered to give the defendant such a look – at which time the defendant shall be remanded into the pit of despair.
“Please note the spelling of that last word.
“So ordered. Court is adjourned. Last one to the Legal Bar is a rotten jurist.”
And that is why the thought of pears leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Kinda like this past week…