Wednesday, November 21, 2012

This is hardly Shakespeare

Part of the ongoing burden here at FTI is battling the continuing perception that our best and brightest simply are losers with poor personal qualities, odd behaviors, and borderline hygiene habits. People say they are not "good enough". Oh sure, most of time the Mistfit's embarrass themselves and besmirch the brand I have so mightily struggled to build, by their actions, thoughts, and deeds. Yes, Dickie is a lousy golfer and a cheapskate. Certainly, the Rat Bastard G is obnoxious. It goes with the territory.  I get it.  I am normally a strong person. Not much fazes me.  Once in a while, though, just every so often, their pathetic efforts actually bring tears to my eyes as I realize that these morons will never achieve any type of greatness. We simply have been dealt the losers from the bottom of the deck.

 A recent competition from the local literary society inspired me to assign our staff a quick, fun, writing exercise. My hope is that it would provide them an outlet to do something a bit different and still compete with normal people on an anonymous basis. After all, their sheer appearance wouldn't disqualify their efforts or to be immediately be discriminated against as "idiot looking." Anyways, the contest was to write a small poem using the word "Timbuktu". The society offered an example and encouraged writers to create their own. Their example is published here:
Slowly across the desert sand,
Trekked a lonely caravan;
Men on camels two by two,
Destination Timbuktu.
My immediate reaction was of inspiration. To be challenged to combine the skills of written prose, iambic pentameter, and geography in a single exercise would be an accomplishment. Much like playing with a ball after an accident can be a form of physical therapy for a child. my thought was "here is a task that can be fun without realizing it is actually strengthening their brain".  When announcing the task, they immediately groaned and complained that this was too hard and they didn't even know what Timbuktu was.  I told them to do some research and find out of their own and to use their own brain power to do so.   After much discussion, I allowed them to work on this task as a collaborative effort rather than individually as none singly can even determine the correct side of a piece of paper to begin. The result is here:
Me and Tim a huntin' went,
Met three whores in a pop up tent;
They were three, and we were two,
So I bucked one, and Tim buktu.

So much for the creative writing thing.

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We welcome your corrections, musings, and notes of sympathy. Due to the limited cognitive ability of our staff, please limit words to no higher than a fourth grade comprehension level.