yo!... yogi berra... innit!
in palookaville today...
the virus games are really takin off...
testing times...
NOT !
If you don't know where you are going, you'll end up someplace else.
DON'T TEST DON'T TELL
You’ve got to be very careful if you don’t know where you are going,
because you might not get there.
germany way out in front...
testing shows the way...
while here in palookaville...
It's like déjà vu all over again.
poorly equiped, poorly armed, out played...
the virus game playbook...
is still to be written
GAMES WITHIN GAMES
some say itta game o two halves...
others that...
some are cheatin...
It ain't over till it's over
whatever games they are playin...
the score board is horrendous
HOME RUN
the big palooka needs a hole in one...
but he left his clubs inna dugout...
refusal to provide his team...
with essential matching kit...
has caused confusion...
and mistakes...
the diamond...
has to become a field hospital...
the numbers carried off...
are scaring the crowd...
in the bleachers
Always go to other people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to yours.
games are being played by every body
but behind closed doors
this series is...
too dangerous to watch
No one goes there nowadays, it’s too crowded.
WHAT A PLAYER
the big palooka...
has knocked the ball...
right outta a park...
his team are runnin around in circles...
try not to make a catch...
nobody wants to be caught out
A nickel ain't worth a dime anymore.
the sports personalities
are demanding their wages
for not playing the game...
the clubs are demanding...
to be bailed out...
the crowd is baying for blood...
run out, caught out, stumped!
The future ain't what it used to be
the virus as changed the game
it mutates into debt...
it's a new world...
disorder
Slump? I ain’t in no slump… I just ain’t hitting.
DANSE MACABRE
Like influenza he walks abroad,
He stands by the bridge, he waits by the ford,
As a goose or a gull he flies overhead,
He hides in the cupboard and under the bed...
The Unknown Citizen
(To JS/07 M 378 This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State)
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
MORE FAMOUS VIRUS QUOTES
If you ask me anything I don’t know, I’m not going to answer.
I never said most of the things I said.
I never blame myself when I’m not hitting.
I just blame the bat and if
it keeps up,
I change bats.
After all, if I know it isn’t my fault that
I’m not hitting,
how can I get mad at myself?
You’ve got to be very careful if you don’t know where you are going,
because you might not get there.
Mickey Mantle was a very good golfer,
but we weren’t allowed to play golf during the season;
only at spring training.
I wish everybody had the drive he (Joe DiMaggio) had.
He never did
anything wrong on the field.
I’d never seen him dive for a ball,
everything was a chest-high catch,
and he never walked off the field.
Take it with a grin of salt.
If the world were perfect, it wouldn’t be.
I’m a lucky guy and I’m happy to be with the Yankees.
And I want to thank everyone for making this night necessary.
A lot of guys go,
‘Hey, Yog, say a Yogi-ism.’
I tell ’em, ‘I don’t know
any.’
They want me to make one up.
I don’t make ’em up.
I don’t even
know when I say it.
They’re the truth.
And it is the truth.
I don’t
know.
BACK TO THE 19 THIRTIES
Bagpipe music (1938)
Louis MacNeice
Oxford English Dictionary (OED) Links On
It’s no go the merrygoround, it’s no go the rickshaw,
All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the
peepshow.
Their knickers are made of crêpe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python,
Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their walls with heads of bison.
John MacDonald found a corpse, put it under the sofa,
Waited till it came to life and hit it with a poker,
Sold its eyes for souvenirs, sold its blood for whisky,
Kept its bones for dumb-bells to use when he was fifty.
It’s no go the Yogi-Man, it’s no go Blavatsky,
All we want is a bank balance and a bit of skirt in a taxi.
Annie MacDougall went to milk, caught her foot in the heather,
Woke to hear a dance record playing of Old Vienna.
It’s no go your maidenheads, it’s no go your culture,
All we want is a Dunlop tyre and the devil mend the puncture.
The Laird o’Phelps spent Hogmanay declaring he was sober,
Counted his feet to prove the fact and found he had one foot over.
Mrs Carmichael had her fifth, looked at the job with repulsion,
Said to the midwife ‘Take it away; I’m through with
over-production’.
It’s no go the gossip column, it’s no go the Ceilidh,
All we want is a
mother’s help and a sugar-stick for the baby.
Willie Murray cut his thumb, couldn’t count the damage,
Took the hide of an Ayrshire cow and used it for a bandage.
His brother caught three hundred
cran when the seas were lavish,
Threw the bleeders back in the sea and went upon the parish.
It’s no go the Herring Board, it’s no go the Bible,
All we want is a packet of fags when our hands are idle.
It’s no go the
picture palace, it’s no go the stadium,
It’s no go the country cot with a pot of pink geraniums,
It’s no go the Government grants, it’s no go the elections,
Sit on your arse for fifty years and hang your hat on a pension.
It’s no go my honey love, it’s no go my poppet;
Work your hands from day to day, the winds will blow the profit.
The glass is falling hour by hour, the glass will fall forever,
But if you break the bloody glass you won’t hold up the weather.
