What, you may ask, is a rage haiku? It’s a wonderful thing which, yes, yes, I invented. It recently came to me in the shower (the crucible of all brilliant ideas) that the haiku, though long-reputed as a poetic form best suited to the subtle, rosy-hued observations of intellectual gurus, would in fact be the ideal form in which to express unalloyed, vitriolic anger. The kind of anger that would vindicate your long-repressed misanthropy, redeem you in your father’s eyes, and finally pay off all those pesky student loans. I mean, think about it: by definition, haikus are:
- Brief: just 5 syllables, then 7, then another 5; YOU’RE DONE!
- Vivid: sunsets, delicate petals, and dewdrops are all popular subjects.
- … according to intellectual guru Natalie Goldberg, textual gems that should contain a “hint of epiphany” in which something powerful and unexpected is revealed about the subject.
Wouldn’t it be amazing if you could channel your righteous anger about subway etiquette, orange juice, or criminal trial verdicts, into something with the thought-provoking, bone-crushing CH’I of a fucking haiku? Your enemies would fall like flabby mall walkers to your dragon-veined, 17-syllabled katana! Faster than a zinging comeback, more powerful than a made-up curse word, wittier even than the Drunk Hulk twitter steam, a hail of meticulously-crafted poetry would stun the most seasoned nemesis into a shocked stasis, allowing you to slip away unnoticed or exit to rapturous applause from the assembled crowd.
Allow me to demonstrate, via a series of common, everyday situations:
You buy a newspaper at the local bodega and the gentleman behind the counter hands you change for a five dollar bill when you clearly paid with a ten. You object. He insists. You skool him with a little 5/7/5:
Will mean a holocaust for
Your Chifles* display”
Your ex-husband’s birthday party. It’s been a while. He’s remarried; you’re not. You look hot, there’s no denying that. But there’s also no denying you’ve had four martinis. Your index finger is suddenly on his sternum.
“You know your problem?
You could never loosen up!
Yo Chex mix LET’S DANCE!!”
A tense situation in an abandoned building ends with the drawing of guns in a Mexican Standoff. Your tummy rumbles.
No one gets hurt if
You motherfuckin’ get me
A Royale with Cheese!!!
See? RAGE HAIKU. Try one. Keep a few in your pocket. And leave those anger management classes to the proletariat.
We hope this New Year brings you all the love, laughter and porridge you desire.
As one year flips to the next, you find people reflecting on their past 365 days. Every kind of Top Ten list is count down by every public forum you can stumble on. Individually we think about how we succeeded or totally forgot to meet our previous resolutions. Was my year so kick ass that I want to make sure next year is the same? Was my year the type I wish I could have ‘pass to go’ with every anguishing day? These thoughts help us to take stock in our lives and become proactive towards our future. They can also depress the fuck out of you. But this year is different. It’s even a tad more intense.
This New Year marks the end of the first decade in the new millennium! 2010 is over, long 52 weeks live 2011! Extra editions for all the Top Ten shows! The best and worst of any plant, animal, mineral, movie or band you can think of for all of 2010!
Our gift to you is NO Top Ten list. We insist. Instead we will be expressing the past ten years in haiku. So, Happy New Year! Make 2011 special!
(As I write this I watch ‘Acient Aliens’ on the History Channel and my dog squeaks her favorite seahorse toy on my shoulder. Both are equally satisfying. Resolution to ‘enjoy life’ done. Boo-ya!)