Sunday, November 19, 2006

One Day?


I recently heard a phrase I’ve been hearing since I was old enough to understand the language. I know that someone who visits here has a blog and states that they will do all they can to keep old phrases alive. Is that your blog Melinor? I can’t recall, I read so many blogs these days.

Anyway the phrase is “Going to Hell in a Hand Basket.” I have a lot of questions for this phrase, and maybe I should consult my vast library of Stewart Berg Flexner books on the origins of the English language and its phrases, but that would probably shed logic on the phrase and make it totally uninteresting.

So what does your mind see when you hear this phrase? For me I see the mythical Devil, Diablo, Beelzebub, Satan, the Prince of Darkness, The Out-Cast Angel, The Beast of the Dammed. This is the major face and force of evil, yet he has a light enough and a cool enough touch as not to incinerate straw baskets that cradle those comfortably who are now in his care for eternity. I see a big hulking beast with a delicate basket. It is almost a comfort that there is a lighter side to this mythical character.

According to many who have written me, I should start taking this as a consolation of a final road trip that I will personally be making in my future.

18 Comments:

Anonymous portosan said...

Hell in a Hand Basket. Hmm.

This is what I picture: I am in a basket and hauling ass to somewhere. I'm sitting in there, my hair blown back and my hands are clutching the edge of the basket. Outside is a blur. Kindof like a logflume ride.

Hell for me is fear. Or, fear is hell. A living hell.

That's all I know about hell.

8:30 AM  
Blogger The Guy Who Writes This said...

Boo7 wrote:

the FIRST thing that came to mind when you made the challenge is......kinda creepy really because boom it was RIGHT there!!!

....riding a bicycle with a metal basket on the front (anyone else have those??)......careening out of control with the ever increasing spead, the legs trying to control the pedals are flailing all over the place, the hands gripping the handle bars are nothing but white knuckles hanging on for dear life, having given up on any hope of ever controlling the bike again. And the whole thing is hurtling towards an endless wall of fire!!!

And all this first thing on a Sunday morning....lol thanks (Name With held)....dunno wether to kiss you or kick yer butt!!! **wink**

So, other than, perhaps I shouldn't even think about going anywhere near a bike any time soon, what do you make of that???

8:42 AM  
Blogger The Guy Who Writes This said...

Sorry I had to delete and reintroduce your post Barb, but you outed me. Geeeze!

Anybody see that? Hope not...

8:44 AM  
Blogger The Guy Who Writes This said...

OK Barb,I'll let you kick my butt and kiss me.

Portosan, you do realize where whe log flume ends its journey, don't you?

8:49 AM  
Blogger Boo7 said...

**gulp** sorry

8:59 AM  
Anonymous portosana said...

Yeh, I saw it Erika - "the girl who writes this"

oop's I out'd you.

Log flume to hell. Kind'a catchy!

9:01 AM  
Blogger The Guy Who Writes This said...

Boy you kids keep me hopping : )

The flume ends at the County Courthouse, for some, AKA Hell.

9:04 AM  
Anonymous gearhead said...

Every company that folds, marriage that fails, society that crashes, began and continued along the rosey path of time nestled in a rounded, gingham lined basket with a fine bow on the handle.
The rice flew, the bow was cut, the wine flowed,,,as the basket continued on..
The parties, the plaques, the sex, wine and fine food, right on down the cheery path.
All along things were going to hell in a handbasket.
We created the hellish end from the beginning. Foolish men payed no attention to the path itself.
Here's another "basket":
"Live for the moment."
Translation:
Chicken today, feathers tommorrow, and to hell with the next day.

10:57 AM  
Blogger Tom said...

I won't be going to hell in a hand basket, but rather a chartered 747. With scantly clad stewardesses and lots of free beer.

Send in your requests- window or isle?

1:32 PM  
Blogger The Guy Who Writes This said...

How about co-pilot?
BTW, welcome back to blogging, Tom.

One definition of Hell I know if is when Gearhead gets the first scratch on his newly painted forklift.

3:45 PM  
Anonymous portosan said...

Logflume ride to hell. Isn't the post office down there too?

4:16 PM  
Anonymous Moosehead said...

Aha!! Now I know who Gearhead is!!! I never would have guessed...it must be an alter ego thing - kind of a Jekyl & Hyde. Man, is there a lot of outing going on here! Great time to be an anon in the hinterland eh? Let me know if you need any help when the Christian Right (or Wal Mart Pinkertons or Friends of the D.A. or PETA or Santa's elves or the people who lived unaware that they had flat white asses before you came along...the list goes on) start burning your effigy on the lawn Guy.

Words of advice from my father prior to my marriage. Never tell your wife (you can freely substitute women for wife in this phrase) anything you don't want the whole world to know...

5:54 PM  
Blogger Boo7 said...

so that means, Moosehead, that you won't be starting a blog any time soon???

6:15 PM  
Anonymous Moosehead said...

Boo - With the exception of blogs (I would totally screw up any mukluk/tuque fantasy if I didn't include yours in the good ones) I've seen by coming here, the rule of thumb seems to be blogs are a place for telling the world things that they don't want to know... My Dad didn't cover that one.
He did tell me to beware of women wanting to kiss flat white asses though...

7:18 PM  
Blogger Boo7 said...

roflmao Moosehead!!! I didn't say I was kissing any flat white ass.....THAT's the part I will be kicking!!!

7:52 PM  
Blogger The Guy Who Writes This said...

I told you he wouldn't go for it, Barb. He has no sticktoitivness. He'd dump all his ideas in the first two days and then he'd pe posting photos of chainsaws...

And Moosehead, Gearhead has always been Gearhead. Not Gerahead's uncle. He di write a post posing to be his uncle a long time ago when I wasn't sure who it was, but trust me, it is not his uncle. Let's hope he never finds his way here...

Portosan, a log won't slide that far. It gets stopped by the bullshit at the courthouse. Thicker than bales of straw.

9:47 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey, yeah, that's me. I love all those old phrases and it makes me sad to think they have to fade away as the language evolves.
So I will do my best. Like yesterday, I got to say, "If I was any happier, I'd be twins!"
(Which, by the way, I learned from an awesome woman on a forum, who lives out in "the piney woods of Texas.")

2:06 PM  
Blogger The Guy Who Writes This said...

But then if you suddenly became twins you would be unhappy because you'd fight over who gets to wear what. It would be a real mess.

3:16 PM  

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