NATCH! DISPATCH: DUNG BEETLE SOCIETY
“Have you ever considered rolling a pile of shit home to your dinner table?” Gene said without looking up. “At first your mind just says,‘Fuuuck that!’ But then the freekin’ bat mobile dung beetle instinct thingy starts kicking in, and, you know, you gotta eat.” Jean reached out a hand to offer him comfort and he looked up briefly with huge, sorrowful eyes. “Their society is brutal. I mean,” he half-sniffled and she saw teardrops starting to form in his sad eyes, “they’re fighting over balls of shit.” Gene went on to describe the nature of rolling dung beetle society. Rolling dung beetles can fly, and they use those wings to locate fresh piles of dung dropped largely by herbivores. Apparently, said herbivores aren’t too efficient at utilizing the nutritional value of what they consume, because a lot of it just runs right through them. This is where the dung beetles make their bread and butter. They suck nutritional juices from the fresh dung. They also use their powerful limbs and pincers to cleave off sections for themselves, usually in the shape of a ball that they can roll home for dinner and to use as an incubator for the kids. I should clarify that a mated pair does this. The female sits on top while the male pushes backwards with his hind legs. Gene seemed mortified as he described it. “I don’t even know why I was listening to her (referring apparently to his mate).” Jean felt a momentary pang of jealousy and then quickly realized that, after all, he was talking about Daisy Dung Beetle. “She just showed up at the shit pile, and before I knew it, she was clamped onto my dung ball and pointing west.” Gene went on to describe what for him must have been an epic journey rolling his dung ball over hill and dale with only the sun, the moon, the stars, and his apparently domineering beetlette to guide him. Along the way, he had to fight off numerous rivals. It wasn’t clear to him whether his dung ball or bossy Daisy was the bigger prize, but for whatever reason, he found himself punching and clawing and, in a sort of ninja move that he never would have thought himself capable, he was able more than once to grasp an opponent’s lower limbs and flip him over backwards. Alas, there’s always someone a little stronger, smarter, quicker, and/or just plain hungrier than you are. Gene was not able to best his fifth rival, who brutally tossed him aside and disappeared over the hill with his dung ball and his girl.
NATCH! DISPATCH: BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
NATCH! Book Club Discussion Questions
As they do in NATCH! plants and animals migrate around the world continuously. Think about your own backyard or your own town. Do you ever wonder how some species found their way there?
Design team members spend time contemplating the needs of natives versus the inevitable arrival of newcomers. How do you define a weed? How long must an immigrant species live in a place before it is no longer considered an invader/outsider?
Each of the design team members represents a different phenomenon driving evolution. Can you think of anyone missing? Which is the bigger driver of change among species—internal mechanisms or external forces?
The Homps went “apeshit” when Google went down. How would your world change if you could no longer access the Internet?
Does music play as significant a role in your life as it did for the Janglese? In the life of your family? Your community?
How would you describe the chemistry of the design team? Have you ever worked on a large group project? Who were the leaders/followers/worker bees? Where did you fit in? How did the personality of the group change over time? Did you stay on course or encounter unexpected outcomes?
NATCH! DISPATCH: Expanding Our Readership Daily!
NATCH! Dispatch: The Way Back When Archives
Early in the design process, Fate and Destiny were assigned to visit the Way Back When Archives to research the history of life in the Far South. The Way Back When Archives were “staffed almost entirely by squirrels and golden retrievers. The retrievers brought energy and a natural propensity for storing things away. The retrievers brought their noses and their natural inclination to, well, retrieve…. Fate wasn’t nuts about being around all those squirrels, but they had to admit, those furry nutjobs kept the place running smoothly.”
While Fate investigated the region’s geological record, Destiny busied herself on the Itzibitz Reader, a device that preserved a chronological record of all births and deaths over millions of years. The device was inspired by the old microfilm readers that I’d struggled to work over the years, going back to my college days. They never seemed to want to stay in focus. And the tuning sensitivity of each one was a little different. Some would allow you to zoom and scan with ease; another would move too far too quickly with the slightest breath.
Destiny’s Itzibitz allowed her to zoom in or out to learn more about the ripples surrounding each event. A micro view would offer other contextual details. A macro view would shed light on how far each event’s consequence rippled forward in time. By applying filters, a skilled reader might discern patterns to the births and deaths. All things, after all, were connected. Destiny fashioned herself a Itzibitz savant, and she had a fresh squad of squirrels at the ready.
NATCH! DISPATCH
The publisher’s marketing department has gone missing since Australia’s loss to the United States in the World Cup. The editor couldn’t say when they might resume work. When asked, he replied, “&^#*?.”
Consequently, the author has had to step into that role, but for some inexplicable reason, all his press releases and marketing slogans seem to be laced with one-liners from Joe vs the Volcano. “I believe I have just the thing.”
Sales are a bit slow.
NATCH! DISPATCH
“I’m shocked … shocked to find that reading is going on!”
Pink Magnolia
Luminous springtime
Swing time of the wood
Purple and pink magnolia
Blossoms in the neighborhood
Why don’t we take a walk (x2)
Still a bit cool out there
So lovely we don’t care
Pink magnolia
Peaches are popping
Cherries showstopping
Pink magnolia
Why don’t we take a walk (x2)
Oh
Oh baby
Let’s go outside
Drizzle is sweetening
Tweetening the trees
Pink magnolia
Crocus and daffodils
Say howdy hills
Pink magnolia
Why don’t we take a walk (x2)
Oh
Oh baby
Let’s go outside
Happy New Year!!!
Here’s an old song by Ken Hicks that I recently discovered and had my way with. May your blessings be many and troubles few in 2024!
Weddings & Funerals
Lovin' Ways
This is a song about our future. This is a song about our past. This is a song about you and me holding fast….
Merry Christmas everyone!
On the Other Side
Oh, my family, my colleagues and friends
My neighbors here in Athens
And my oh, so distant kin
Oh, how I’m watching and
I’m rooting for you
We will all be together
On the other side
On the other side
We will toast your health and mine
We will gather round our tables
Have some laughs down at the bar
We will play our music to the wee hours
Of the night
Oh, Oh, Oh
On the other side
Oh, Oh, yeah baby
On the other side
Show me your wild hairdo
I will show you mine
Show me how you rock those pj’s
Morning, noon, and night
Just to hear your voice and
Know that you’re alright
I can’t wait to hold you in the coming light
Chorus
We’ll be strong enough to make amends
We’ll be long enough to reach around the bend
We’ll be wise enough to rise above
We will raise our capacity to love
Oh, Oh, Oh
On the other side
Oh, Oh, yeah baby
On the other side
Chorus
In Spite of Ourselves
We’re heart-broken over the loss of John Prine. I had the pleasure of seeing him at the Nelsonville Music Festival some years ago. He closed the fest on a lovely Sunday evening with an intimate, warm, funny, and soulful concert. We all felt like kids gathering around grandpa on the living room floor, all eager to hear his stories. In Spite of Ourselves was one of my favorites. It speaks to John’s observation of life’s small details, the flaws and quirks, the things that no one else knows that endear you to your sweetie. My heart goes out to John’s family and many, many friends. He brought a warm light to this world and we’re all a bit happier for it.
In The Quarantine Zone
Caution: The following song is entirely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental and anyone who says otherwise should just keep that to themselves. (Is that ok, sweetie?)
Glorious World
Promise (Revisited)
“Be the change you hope to see in the world.” In 2008, I recorded Promise. The title track was inspired by Mahatma Gandhi’s call to action. I’m not really a professional musician and I had no business putting out an album. But it was something I’d always wanted to do, so what the hell!
That was twelve years ago (I can hardly believe it’s been that long). Shortly after we finished the album, the United States had a meltdown. It felt like another Great Depression knocking on our door. Many many people lost a great deal. Prospects were bleak. And yet, one day at a time, we moved forward. Markets recovered. People went back to work. Little by little things got better.
Today we face a much more profound crisis, one that will likely challenge us for years to come. Coronavirus doesn’t care about your race, nationality, gender, religion, party, bank account or sexual preference. It demands that we reconsider how we treat all of our neighbors on this planet—local and distant. That’s a tall order. I mean, come on, who knew that toilet paper was going to turn out to be our achilles heel? I have relatives driving all over New Jersey looking for a roll. This crisis feels even more serious because it comes after years of ugly politics and a looming global environmental disaster.
By now most of us (if we’re lucky) are homebound, sheltering with loved ones. We’ve been reaching out to family, friends, colleagues, and neighbors with phone calls, texts, FaceTime, Zoom and whatever social media platforms are our cup of tea. All that reaching out feels like a silver lining, reminding us of what’s important. We’ve been masking and gloving ourselves for needed trips to the grocery store. We’ve been taking our temperatures, watching the daily briefings, checking the global tallies, and plowing through all the junk food. It all feels like a bad sci-fi movie.
And now I find myself revisiting Promise, a song about the love that two people share when they commit themselves to each other, a song about the obligations we share as members of a community—to stick by one another through thick and thin, and to treat each fairly with honesty, generosity, kindness and, maybe once in a while, a little humor.
We will come out on the other side of this coronavirus crisis. I’d like to believe that the experience will inspire our better natures, maybe not forever but at least for a time. Maybe the human race that comes out on the other side will be a little more thoughtful, a little more egalitarian, a little more tolerant, a little more compassionate, and yes, still occasionally hilarious. Why not? Be the change that you hope to see in the world … and wash your hands!
Promise
All through the trials and tribulations
All through the hours of despair
All through the fires and confabulations
All through all the pondering
I’ll be there for you.
She saw him standing on the corner
He was waiting for the light to change
He saw her waiting on a train
Standing on a elevated platform in the shade
She heard him wince in fear and pain
He watched her trying to make him believe again.
All through the years getting by just to pay the bills
All through the worries what if one of us gets sick
All through the years nurturing our kids, hoping they’ll have a better life
All through all the pondering
I’ll be there for you.
He’s the one who lost his job and can’t remember who he always hoped he’d be.
She’s the one who lost her son and can’t remember what the hell this war was supposed to be.
When we get out in the night, don’t you worry if the way seems dim and cold.
If we step out of the light, don’t you worry if we stumble from the road.
We can change the world.
If we stick together, hand in hand, we can change the world.
All through the trials and tribulations
All through the hours of despair
All through the fires…
All through all the bullshit baby
I’ll be there for you, and you’ll be there for me too.
All through all the bullshit baby
I’ll be there for you, and you’ll be there for me too.
Unconditional
Oh, what you got my baby
Where’d you go my friend
What you got that’s making you so blue
Oh, what you got my darling
Why you slumping low
Spill the beans
Tell me straight and true
Well, I’m in trouble with the long arm of the law
Failed to pay my taxes
Left a smoking gun in the drawer
My fingerprints were everywhere
And they got me on the call
Don’t worry honey
Sounds like you were framed
I didn’t go to Sunday school
I bought cigarettes instead
Smoked ‘em in the alley by the bar
Got into a bit of a scuffle
Had to beat a hasty shuffle
We went surfing through the bardo near and far
The car we were in was stolen
It belonged to her uncle whose face was swollen
‘Cause he said some things and didn’t make parole
We headed south for the sand and sun
Just a few days on the beach was fun
‘Til his X walked in
And brought that wrath of hell
‘Cause she wasn’t really his X quite yet
She was somewhere sooner in the alphabet
She could drink like a sailor and sing like a troubadour
She could dance
She could howl
She could scream
She could brawl
She could laugh with a certain kind of look
I could tell that the getting good was well behind the bend
Chorus
Well, she went at him with a curling iron
While I slipped out the back
Found his keys and wallet by the door
This car ain’t bad on grass and beer
With a little bit of mad and a little bit of fear
I scored some groceries further up the coast
Well, I don’t mean the things I do
I’m just drawn to a certain moral point of view
Where the line between
What’s right and wrong’s a mess
You could say that it’s just that the times are bad
That the sun was in your eyes
And your head’s up your ass
Allow for the absurd
I must confess
Chorus
Before too long all the weed was lit
And the car it wouldn’t go
I started thinking
What you said that night
Did you really mean that you would love to the end of time?
Could you really take me back again?
Don’t worry darling
Don’t worry sweetie pie
I kept the light on for you
You’re the apple of my eye
Don’t worry ‘bout the mortgage
Or that rotting stack of bills
Anyway,
It sounds like you were framed.
Anyway,
It sounds like you were framed.
The Colors of 2019: In the Pink
So, pink has been giving me some trouble (nothing to read into there!). I thought about writing some sort of tribute for the ladies, but no inspiring thoughts came forth from that particular spout, or at least none that felt original. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been a fan, and I’ve always been perplexed by men who somehow believe the ladies aren’t every bit as capable, strong, intelligent, courageous, imaginative, reliable…. It just seems utterly foolish to believe otherwise and how do you argue with the utterly foolish?
So I went fishing …
Diane’s pink shower cap and her little leather change purse. The pink plaid robe that I gave her for our first Christmas together in Wisconsin that she still has hanging on the back of our bathroom door. It’s feels like a kind of emblem of our marriage.
The color of Pepto-Bismol (how’s that for a segue?). What a perfect name for a medicine designed to treat an upset stomach. “What’s wrong? Don’t know. Must have been something I ate. I’m feeling all Pepto-Bismolly.” I wonder what the other choices were? Hurl-be-gone? Oh-god? Never again?
Pink shrimp and pink flamingos. Where do they get that bright pink plumage? You are what you eat, I guess. Good thing that doesn’t work with guacamole. Imagine having to stick your head underwater to eat. That would certainly cut down on the snacking. “No, really, I’m good. I couldn’t eat another bite.” No wonder they’re so skinny. I just read that freeze-dried shrimp were one of the favorites of the astronauts. Apparently, when you add water those pinkos plump right up.
In the pink. Where does that come from? Does it refer to babies who start out blue and then pink up after taking their first breaths? That sounds right, but I’m not looking it up. Do doctors still give newborns a little slap on the fanny? Did they ever outside of movies and television? What a rude welcome to the world! “Just to let you know, the world’s going to kick you in the….”
Why pink for girls and blue for boys? In 1918 the Ladies’ Home Journal said pink should be for boys and blue for girls because pink was the stronger color. The Ladies’ Home Journal. Ladies! There’s that word again. I like that word. It feels playful and respectful at the same time. Ladies feels friendly, endearing and maybe slightly flirtatious, and yet it’s also part of “Ladies and Gentlemen,” and the respectful formality of occasions with dress-up clothes and people wearing hats. And I’m not talking baseball hats. I’m talking real hat hats … with bands and brims, the kind you could frisbee onto a tall hat rack in the corner. The Ladies’ Home Journal standard stuck until the 1940s when some French fashionadas decided that pink should be for les femmes. “Let them wear pink!”
Pink tongues and lipstick. Pinkies and pinky toes. Mauve, the 70s pink of interior decorators, the brown of pink. Pink’s drab cousin who bores everyone to death at parties. “Have you seen this knew Tupperware?” The opposite of cool, hot, fun Cyndi Lauper Pink, the one who lights up the room and is always out in front of the latest crazes.
Pink ribbons to support the ladies, pink wristbands, pink Nikes, pink hats. Is that meaningful? To wear some pink accessory to say I’m with them? I suppose it is. But is it enough? Not by a long shot.
Pinkos? Why are communists pink? True communists were red. Pinkos were just leaning in that direction, I guess. Communists in training. Inclined toward those menacing Russkis. “Better dead than red.” Really? That’s what you’re going with? Who talks like that?
The pink slip. There’s another one I don’t understand. Why a pink slip? Is it a filing thing? My mother told me her father had worked for a men’s club in downtown Philadelphia for twenty-some years, and then one day, he got a pink slip in with his paycheck. “Your services are no longer required.” That’s capitalism. Makes you want to take another look at those Pinkos, doesn’t it?
Pink peeps. Pink icing. Pink cotton candy and caramel corn. Ugh! Talk about wanting to be dead. Pass the Pepto!
Pretty in Pink. I hated that movie. Reminds me of high school, riotous pink acne, and awkward, self-conscious social skills. Purgatory, basically. Pink purgatory.
Pink Cadillac. Good song. “Well, my love is bigger than a Honda. Yeah, it’s bigger than a Subaru….” My son and his friend Joey chose that for their karaoke song during a summer session at the Rec Center. Both were pre-pubescent. What did they know about cars?
Get Thee to the Porch
I don’t know the reason why they do the things they do
I don’t know why the money’s not filling up the till
I don’t know why you’re strumming them blues
Seems like something everyday is going down the tubes
Only one thing I can say
Get thee to the porch
Get thee to the porch
Get thee to the porch
Get thee to the porch
Get thee to the porch
Don’t let that sun sink all the way down
Without you keeping cool as the underground
Only one thing I can say
Get thee to the porch
Oh baby, I know you probably had a long, long day
Oh baby, I know you were nodding in and out all the way home
Kick your shoes off and roll down them silks
There’s a bottle of red wine in the kitchen by the window sill
Come on out here honey
Get thee to the porch
Chorus
Don’t let that sun sink all the way down
Without you kicking back watching the world spinning ‘round
Only one thing I can say
Get thee to the porch