Dogscapes (Of My New Kentucky Home)

1. The Committee on Names

OK, we're in this weird world where a college President only last week appointed a task force to Re-name various sites and such on campus, this In hopes of attracting deep-pocketed philanthropists-- Picture here your typical Gary Larson Dogscape, The one where, say, the flea walks among The columns of dog hair carrying a sign reading: "The End of the Dog is Near." Here we find The Committee to Name Things. What follows Are the recommendations of said task force: (1) We can rename the committee itself endlessly: The Myron Beanhead Memorial Naming Commission Today, the Lizzie Borden-Lee Harvey Oswald Sirhan Bremmer Sirhan Buttafuoco Sirhan Harding Gilooly Sirhan Kerrigan Eckert Sirhan Derrida Sirhan Oscar Deadwood Sofa and Loveseat Bureau of Nomenclature tomorrow, and so on-- At only $1000 a pop, we ought to bring in Over a third of a million by next year alone; (2) We can auction off the rights to rename Our faculty; such that, for a few extra dollars, An embittered former student could recast the Entire English Department, say, as the superstars Of figure skating: Who gets to be Jeff Gilooly? Sean Eckert? Lorena Bobbitt? (Oops, wrong Cue card.) (3) Wile E. Coyote paints a picture Of a tunnel on a rock; what does the Roadrunner, That little egotistical snot, do? he runs right Through it like it wasn't there, of course. I'll Show him, that scrawny beep-beep-my-ass Bag of hot, dry Southwestern air--not at all like We get here in the summer, stand in the bathroom Sticky weather, bottles of Ban Roll-On in each Hand, imitating Magilla Gorilla or something, Trying to deodorize and antiperspirize each Delicate underarm simultaneously, sort of like This. [Insert appropriate imagined gesture.] I'll get you this time, you wascally wabbit, and Strapping on the Acme Jetpack (for a mere Fifty thousand you can give it whatever name Suits you...you're the boss, here...this is a Name clearance sale...all our names have got To go...we will not be undersold!) and the Acme Ice skates (roller skates if you insist on a desert Backdrop) and raid the Clue game for that cute, Twisted, tiny lead pipe (the better to kneecap you With, my dear)...Elmer Fudd will be playing The role of Wile E. Coyote, today; the role of The Roadrunner will be played by Bugs Bunny. Daffy and Bugs will illustrate a problem with Pronouns. "Shoot him." "No, shoot him." "Duck Season," claims the clever rabbit. "Rabbit Season," Rebuts the expectorant-expelling duck. "Duck Season." "Rabbit Season." "Duck Season." "Rabbit Season." "Duck Season!" "Rabbit Season!" "Rabbit Season." "Duck Season." Oops! Kerrr-blammmmm! Such that, Again, I get my bill shot off, my ebony feathers shuffled Into two hands of five-card stud, my harp-happy Better half floating heavenward, where I'll find Others of similar phantasmal transparence forming A Dixieland rock band. Later, our cover of "My Sharona" tops out at 12 on the D&B playlist; God liked it, but the Seraphim felt it was inappropriate Fare for Heaven. (Everyone knew the whole thing Was rigged: the soul does not select her own Society.) But I'll get even with that double-dealing, Carrot-chomping, laid-back, misshapen, quip- Quipping pair of hare pajamas, or I'm not... Whoever I am in this cartoon. Wile E. conspires To finally get even with his primordial nemesis: The Renaming Committee grants his request: Henceforth, by decree of the office of president, Etc., to and so forth, hereby to recognomenalize The aforementioned administration building in honor Of Mr. Wile E. Coyote's generous benefaction And bestowal on this fine institution, etc., etc. Meanwhile, the Roadrunner races safely ahead, Stops on a dime, which he thoughtfully pockets, And then tears off again into the distant dogscape.

2. The Drive Home

I was driving home yesterday from the KPA Conference thinking about a number of matters Of similar consequence. The road kill was Unusually heavy that afternoon, possibly a sign Of the onset of spring--large, bloody bodies Strewn across lanes and dividers, disturbingly Recognizable as dog, cat, possum, raccoon, And skunk. But, I like the drive, especially That section on 62 with the gnarled trees and Now faded yellow pastures and black tobacco Barns. The other night the burnt orange back- Drop gave the trees and barns a sort of horror Movie feel, reticulated branches and ominous Shadows, in sharp contrast to the golden sun- Sets I used to photograph in California: bathers Wading up to their waists on Mission Beach, Silhouetted fishermen sitting on the splintering Berkeley pier gazing off across the bay toward San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. Even In the daylight the trees along 62 are impressive. I try everytime I drive by to find some adjective Or allusion appropriate to the emotions these trees Stir in me. A bloodshot eye, maybe, or some image FFrom infancy, the pattern on the ceiling of my Bedroom, leafshaped gatherings of green paint, The veins reaching outward or inward, like those Optical illusion art works one finds in books and Museums: Is it a vase or a couple kissing? Is it A duck or a rabbit? Once a visiting poet at Berkeley Read a poem titled "Duck Rabbit Duck" (or something Like that) and I thought he was referring to the Warner Bros. cartoon. He was offended, as I recall, when I mentioned this connection to him afterwards: Bugs and Daffy being clearly inappropriate material For sophisticated poesy. On the radio they were playing Pearl Jam's "Daughter" and I remembered that in the Herald-Leader there was a front page piece on Nirvana's Kurt Cobain. Seems Kurt ingested "powerful sedatives Washed down with alcohol" and "went into a coma." What do Kurt Cobain and John Candy have in common? Page A7. Dr. Tongue from SCTV and Mr. Mumble Mouth, the Grunge King of Seattle, side by side, one Dead, the other apparently on the road to recovery, Together for one day only, pushing the attack on Tonia Harding to the Sports Page. Dateline Beaverton, Oregon, The 23-year-old Harding was assaulted "as she walked Through a park near where she has been staying": Harding Was unable to identify her attacker, but reported that her Attacker, wearing a Mickey Mouse outfit, kept mumbling, "This is so corny...This is so stupid. Kenneth, what's The frequency?" Over lunch at Colonel Sanders, Steve May and I talked about dashes and slashes, the vagaries Of punctuation, his upcoming conference paper on the Inaccuracy of the new historicists. Such a beautiful day Almost makes up for the weeks of weather, potholes soon To be designated National Parks and Monuments, snow That falls, freezes, melts and falls again. Across the dogscape All is abuzz with unzipping jackets and the day to day Luxuries of healthy happy hungry fleas picnicking On checkered dropcloths.

P. Michael Campbell