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Word of the Every So Often

selvedge: (noun) A selvedge is a sewn border on woven fabric to keep it from unraveling. Really, though, a selvedge could be any border to keep what’s behind it from “unraveling.” For instance, you could use rocks as a selvedge around your garden to keep the mulch in place.

Everyday History

Trivia: The accumulation of random, irrelevant, and often all but useless facts and assorted information, much like a degree in philosophy. People have been throwing out trivia for about as long as it’s been there to throw out. You can bet there was some caveman who casually quipped, “Well, Og, you realize that ‘saber-tooth tiger’ is a misnomer. It’s really a smilodon, and not closely related to tigers at all.” And then he was eaten.

Now pay attention. There will be a test. The first trivia book (which in itself is trivia) is Bits of Information of Little Consequence, published in 1902 by a guy named Logan Pearsall Smith, who, like Thomas Stearns Eliot, was born in the United States but moved to England and wrote as a Brit. Nowadays trivia has its own genre. Probably the most popular trivia book is The Guiness Book of World Records, a book dedicated to answering trivia questions in bars. It has been published annually since August 27, 1955, and keeps track of roughly 65,000 records… but only around 2,000 of those will be in this year’s edition.

Take It Or Leave It (aside from a great song by Foghat, released in 1975 on their Fool for the City album) was the first trivia-based radio game-show in the United States, and people loved it. (By the way, Foghat, the musical group, chose that name after one of the founding members was told he couldn't use the word "Foghat" in Scrabble because it wasn't a word. He showed them, by golly.) “Trivial Pursuit,” which came out in 1991, is considered one of the most popular board games of all time, and is probably the most popular Canadian board game ever, right up there with “Crokinole.” And, of course there’s Jeopardy!, which first aired in March 1964. Without Alex Trebek (another Canadian) it’s just not the same, but it’s still the most popular TV game show…like, ever. Masterminds, Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, The Weakest Link… the list goes on – all shows based on trivia. It’s fair to say that if game shows didn’t use trivia there would be very few game shows. Seriously, what’s better than sitting at home answering the questions before the contestants do? It’s even better than being a contestant, because if you get it wrong 9.2 million viewers each week won’t know you missed it.

OK. What would Trivia Day be without trivia, something you can casually throw out at the next family get-together (a word that should always be hyphenated if it is used as a noun) that will make your parents think all that money spent on a degree in philosophy was worth it after all? Remember the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Remember when the Bridge Keeper at the end asks the question, "What is the capitol of Assyria?" It's Nineveh. Now there's trivia.

Cartoon of the Week

Bear With Me

Stuff

Dog Days

The screen door slams

and bounces and bounces and bounces,

the loose mesh flapping flies,

suspended in the mirage vapours

of awningless sunshine

rising off the cement slab excuse

for a back porch,

flapping them in to dreamily weave the room,

filling shadowed corners with the rise and fall

of meaningless flight.

Eventually to land,

just out of reach of thee swatter.

It is not guessing.

They know.

And there they wait,

rubbing their hands,

waxing their wings,

screwing and unscrewing their heads,

but never quite taking them all the way off.

Until you lunge,

with a magazine

or a newspaper

or even your hand.

And then they’re gone,

to circle once

or twice

and then return,

passing just close enough

to your head

so you’ll hear

the soft snicker of wings.

And all the while,

the never ceasing insult

of the window unit drone

carries beyond the lawnmower line.

It carries from where that damned dog –

our damned dog –

lies beneath the air conditioner

that sticks from the neighbor’s window

like the chubby tongue of some obnoxious child

that you aren’t allowed to swat.

And there, folded into the two feet of shade,

is that damned dog,

lying there like he has nothing else better to do

than just to watch those tiny drops of frustration

let go one at a time,

and drop and drop and drop,

falling into a small puddle of nothing

just beyond his nose.

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