The Pompous Mr. Pentz

  Although I had a brief throwing up episode last night, I've actually been feeling pretty good this weekend and eating substantial amounts, hopefully to start gaining back a little of my huge weight loss, probably around 30 pounds.  Tonight I even started timing myself again walking briskly around Rittenhouse Square.  Tomorrow we see Littman and will find out her recommendations on changes to the protocol or a complete new protocol.
  The other day I bought a harmonica and was amused by the size of the box: 8"x6"x2" height.  The harmonica itself is only about 1"x 5" x 1/2" (assuming I can find it) and the instruction book is about 4"x5" x 1/4" and is mostly non-instructional (also missing).  So there's a lot of wasted packaging and a little wasted money if I can't find it.
  Apropos of nothing, the following, which had been included in my missing blog entry (the lost episode?), is a sonnet I wrote for an assignment in senior year in high school.  The sonnet mocked the English teacher, the pompous Mr. Pentz who called his grammar pamphlet Pentz's Perfect Process; and I can't believe I had the guts to submit it back then.  I guess it points to the poor judgment of teenagers although it turned out good.  Surprisingly, Pentz read the poem out loud to the class and commented that he hoped there was no one in the English Dept. like this.  Nevertheless, he gave me a grade of 100, citing good rhyme, rhythm, subject and expression.  This reminds me that I've been lucky to get good grades from Pompous Pentz and Sadistic Sam (the Prof with the exam conflicting with Ali's talk at Penn.)

                                                 Power

They see me coming quickly down the hall.
They better had not get into my way.
For I shall surely reprimand them all.
I have no time for their improper play.

I get my just revenge on them in class.
I pile on work until they scream for aid.
To see them cry for mercy and to pass,
I smile at being strong and keep the grade.

I take off twenty points for one mistake.
I care not if they like me for my modes.
Their backs and spirits ere they leave I'll break.
I'm sure they curse me out in their abodes.

  For I am just an English teacher here,
  Whom they, my students, will forever fear.

   I hope everyone has a good week.
Elkan - Sunday night