noun [from geography and Shakespeare, 2005] 1. A small forest of words in the great metropolis of Brooklyn 2. A collection of ruminations, photographs, and lists on topics including (but not limited to) books, writing, movies, television, theatre, current events, publishing, food, and nonsense 3. The blog of Cheryl Klein, reader, writer, children's books editor, and busy lady about town
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Cheap Hume-or
That much productivity demands a little levity. This is the very august and important Scottish Enlightenment philosopher David Hume, in Edinburgh on New Year's Day:
And how tall is that statue? Did the perpetrator(s) have to climb up to his head or is there an easy access point? In other words, how was this Hume-anly possible?
"She knitted with firm composure, slightly pursing her lips and, without being aware of it, so stiffened and composed the lines of her face in a habit of sternness that when her husband passed, though he was chuckling at the thought that Hume, the philosopher, grown enormously fat, had stuck in a bog, he could not help noting, as he passed, the sternness at the heart of her beauty."
Joan, the statue was sitting on a pedestal that was probably five feet high, so someone went to some effort to get it up there . . . stone-cold sober, no doubt.
Hee, Lizzy! Yes, I imagine he found it very de-Hume-anizing.
ReplyDeleteBut he unwound afterward with a cigar from his Hume-ador...
ReplyDelete...and a Hume-ongous glass of brandy.
ReplyDeleteTo be in the open air is Hume-an
ReplyDeleteTo wear thinking caps is divine.
LOL! Most amusing . . . I mean Hume-rous.
ReplyDeleteAnd how tall is that statue? Did the perpetrator(s) have to climb up to his head or is there an easy access point? In other words, how was this Hume-anly possible?
"She knitted with firm composure, slightly pursing her lips and, without being aware of it, so stiffened and composed the lines of her face in a habit of sternness that when her husband passed, though he was chuckling at the thought that Hume, the philosopher, grown enormously fat, had stuck in a bog, he could not help noting, as he passed, the sternness at the heart of her beauty."
ReplyDeleteTo the Lighthouse -- Virginia Woolf.
Joan, the statue was sitting on a pedestal that was probably five feet high, so someone went to some effort to get it up there . . . stone-cold sober, no doubt.
ReplyDeleteI have to add: I'm sure the good gentleman is rolling in his grave at these puns . . . that is, if he hasn't been ex-Humed.
ReplyDelete