By Evan J. Peterson
Oh, Dorothy.
You slap lions &
defeat witches,
you help grown men
become kings,
you help fake
wizards get clean,
you dry their tears
on your gingham
dress—big jobs
for an eight-
year-old. The Scarecrow
learned
to strategize,
& the Tin Man always
loved, grieved
over crushing a bug.
& the Lion
ever had courage,
lacked only confidence
till Oz, the Great
And Terrible Fraud,
slipped him
a syrupy placebo.
But you, Dorothy?
You never
truly had the power
to take yourself
home. Sure, the shoes—
those silver, tap-dancing
teleporters,
but they’re not yours.
Home was always
beyond you, as you
took care of marvelous men.
Men who don’t
eat nor sleep but weep
into your skirts—
ain’t that just like a man?
(ain’t you too young to know?)
And of course
there’s your curious habit
of killing people
by accident. What Oz
himself couldn’t do,
nor the Good
Witch of the North.
Pig-tailed assassin,
you freed slaves,
Winkies & Munchkins,
a sort of reverse
John Wilkes Booth.
You kill with scrub water,
you kill with your house.
You kill
like a girl.
& that humbug, that huckster,
that flimflamming
grifter, that shuffler,
that hustler, that swindler
duped you. Oz,
that papier mâché
puppet head,
pressed you to kill.
Here’s rope, so hang:
no hot air
balloon ride on your
bucket list.
Just cute shoes
to walk you back
to bleak, flat
Kansas: happy
dust-bowl,
Dorothy, you Not-Queen
of Oz.
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I organized and Freecycled a bunch of stuff in the morning, then at lunchtime I had an invitation to an EX raid at Starbucks, so I went and met friends there, caught Mewtwo, then went and got bagels and came home to do some more unexciting housework. It did not rain all afternoon and it was only in the mid-80s, so a nice day out by the standards of this July.
I am ashamed to admit that, after rewatching the middle of Burden of Truth since we missed half of it while on the phone last night -- I'm glad to see Kristin Kreuk in a non-genre show -- we watched Baywatch to the bitter end. I'm sure I've seen worse movies in the past five years but I can't think what. From the Museum of Popular Culture, some of the science fiction and fantasy costumes:
Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak. *snickers*
Monty Python and the Holy Grail: "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"
One of Doctor Who's Daleks, toilet plunger and all.
Greedo after Han shot first.
The Terminator's leather jacket and various accessories.
Clothing belonging to Westley, Princess Buttercup, and Inigo Montoya.
Connor MacLeod a.k.a. The Highlander's furs and kilt.
Paul posing for the obligatory "Friend of Dorothy" shot.
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