Richard Greene

"Proficiency at billiards is the sign of a wasted life." Thus spake my father. I think the same is true of the ability to assemble IKEA bookcases.

I think this is the highest expression of indolence: I purchased online, and had delivered to my door, a pair of slippers.

From my longish poem "Thole" on my late mother. It will be included in my next collection.

The poll-worker was a bit slow finding my name on the voters' list, so I said, "I'm here to apply for a mortgage." Not missing a beat, the fellow looked up and said, "I can offer you 4% open."

I, with two more to help me,
Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me?"
("Horatius")

The Ribbentrop Molotov Pact is the nearest comparison with what's happening in Riyadh, and we all know how that turned out.

This thing about the Gulf of America puts me in mind of Freedom Fries.

Scientists have reconstructed the face of Thomas Aquinas. He actually looks, to me, like a baseball scout considering a prospect and composing five proofs for the existence of his fastball.

As always on this date, I wish my observant friends a blessed feast of St. Ibuprofen.

Oklahoma man driving stolen vehicle caught with rattlesnake, uranium, whiskey and firearm: Police Stephen Jennings and Rachel Rivera had been pulled over by Guthrie police at a traffic stop when officers found the rattlesnake, uranium, whiskey and firearm.

This has to become a movie.
abcnews.go.com/US/oklahoma-...

Where's Michael Heseltine when you really need him?

My absurdly charming graduate students in creative writing marked the end of the course with a hand-drawn thank-you card, alluding to my forthcoming book of poems, and a bottle of Irish. What's not to like?

I just spotted a copy of Strunk and White on my daughter's desk and feel I have not failed as a parent.

My students are bored. They asked me to buy a hat, grow a droopy mustache, and teach in the persona of Sam Elliott. I said, "No, I'm not into bowling."

"Continents and countries come one after the other and the earth feels — not small, but almost endlessly connected, an epic poem of flowing verses." This book is middle-brow and full of a ludicrous faux-poeticism. The jury confused a worthy theme with literary competence.