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Christoff is on death row…and is spoken word poetry the future or a fusion?

December 17, 2007

Christoff, our Christmas Tree This is Christoff, our real live Fraser Fur Christmas tree…in our tiny, no bedroom, no door apartment.  He’s pretty loveable as Christmas trees go: minimal shedding, good-smelling, complimentary to the lime green walls.  Except that, like all Christmas trees, he’s on death row.  And our two cats aren’t helping much.  They have disabled the bottom strand of lights, relieved Christoff of half a dozen ornaments, and now, TODAY is the day I have been dreading.  The kitten has learned that via the orange chair and the desk, she can catapult herself into the middle of the Christmas tree.  Alas, Christoff is being systematically flattened on all tiers.  He’s also getting a little dry.  (We skimped…so he was frozen and shipped, and no amount of water will keep him from failing the needle flexibility test.)  Here’s to you, Christoff.  As our first Christmas tree, you have been a champ. On an entirely different note, this morning, I wanted to share some really good spoken-word poetry clips:This one is my favorite:

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