1. Which local TV meteorologist should be forced to scat sing rain-themed tunes between his frantic, repetitive exclamations during his station’s wall-to-wall weather coverage?
2. Which local TV storm chaser sounds for all the world as though he’s bouncing on a trampoline while delivering severe weather updates?
3. Which local TV meteorologist, were he to write a semi-autobiographical novella, would publish it in Comic Sans font, 36-point type, all caps?
4. Sheryl Crow’s first hit song consisted mostly of lyrics taken from the poem “Fun” by Wyn Cooper. Cooper received co-songwriting credit, which is well and fair. The inherent bleakness of the text is countered by Crow’s jaunty delivery, and the musical arrangement mutes some of the implied threats of the text (i.e., “And every motel on the highway./It’s ours, you hear?/And we’ve got plans, so relax and let us in – /All we want is to have a little fun”). I guess there’s not really a question here. I’m just glad Crow wasn’t a huge Sylvia Plath fan.
5. Would Sylvia Plath have made a good local TV meteorologist? Or would her inability to simultaneously scat sing and bounce on a trampoline while delivering severe weather updates preclude her success in the field?
6. Let’s say I wake up at 6 a.m. I yawn, leave the bed, stretch. I open the top drawer and retrieve a pair of underpants. I open a lower drawer, grab a T-shirt. I enter the bathroom and turn on the light. I lay my clothes on the counter near the sink, likely in a drop or two of water. I’m not happy about my T-shirt now being a bit wet, but I am happy that hands are being washed at the conclusion of nightly private toilet business. I open the shower curtain. And there, in the bathtub, is my toaster. And on the toaster is a Post-It note. And on the Post-It note is written, in clean, loopy cursive, “Your move, Ace.” Let’s just say that happens. Then, what?
7. Why not end this now without a 10th question? Or a ninth, or an eighth?
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