Today, I am using the “Underwater Pictures Ruse” to inflict upon you the earthly equivalent of Vogon Poetry. This literary genre has an amusing history. First revealed to us Terrans in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, it is said to be the third worst poetry in the Universe. The description from the Guide goes thus:
“Vogon poetry is the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent, of his poem, Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning, four of his audience members died of internal hemorrhaging, and the president of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off… The very worst poetry in the universe died along with its creator, Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex… in the destruction of the planet Earth.”
A brief example is also given:
- “Oh freddled gruntbuggly/thy micturations are to me/As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
- Groop I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes. And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
- Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don’t!”
It reminds me of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky, except that it is infinitely more painful. You need not worry. My humble offering is unlikely to cause you any permanent harm. A faithful reader, Facebook Friend and fellow web journalist Steven Goodheart (yes, that is his real name) has been nagging and nagging for me to publish some of my poetry (Okay, he asked me about it once, “You write poetry?”), so I have a plausible excuse for my coming out.
First, let me prepare you for the shock by lulling you into a peaceful reverie with calming images of marine life:
That’s a nice little fan coral on the catamaran at The Eel Garden near Pig Island.
Here’s another, fancier bit:
I’ve been fiddling with creating a dark background. Getting the colour right is a bit fussy.
Here’s a little better job with this Divericate Tree Coral (Gendronephthya roxasia):
There. That’s better.
Feeling all nice and calm now? A little sleepy, eh? That’s good. Blank your mind now and prepare for Star Drifters:
If your mind wasn’t blank before, it certainly is now. This presumes that you discovered that you have to click on it to actually read it. Yes, there is writing there. In fact, it is designed just the right size so that you can print it onto one of those t-shirt thingies which use to transfer an image onto cloth using an iron. Don’t burn yourself. For pity’s sake, don’t make a t-shirt from it. People will think you are nuts. I suggest a cotton tea towel which is ready for the trash. After being embossed by Star Drifters, you can use it to clean up messes in the bathroom.
Now, for your comfort and safety I need to ease you back into the world of what passes for sanity on this planet. I’ll show you a rare and splendid thing.
During over 2,000 dives I have never before seen a juvenile Trumpetfish (Aulostomus chinensis):
See, you never know when to take me seriously. I love that.
Seriously, when I first saw this little one, only about eight centimetres long, I thought it was some newfangled sort of pipefish. Then I noticed the very distinctive mouth:
There is no doubt that this is a juvenile Trumpetfish. What tickles me most is that I am almost positive that you have never seen one. Of course, you had never read Star Drifters either. Two shocks in one post. My, my.
I’ll leave you to recover with this peaceful image of a Magnificent Anemone (Heteractis magnifica) and some cute little Clown Anemonefish (Amphiprion percula):
Yes, those are Nemo’s cousins.