Close, but no cigar...(I wonder if/when that term will completely fade from common use?) "Close only counts with hand grenades" (or "snooker" if you're one of
those) makes much more sense. If one got closer to
what would they get a cigar? Would they
be a cigar? Did a capital "C" get lost over the years, the initial intent being an effort to emulate a person named Cigar?
Close, but you're no Lady Gaga sort of thing? "Cigar" is also a racehorse who retired in 1996 as the leading money earner in Thoroughbred racing history, but I'm pretty sure the idiom predates him and wasn't a snarky comment to the horse that came in second. The phrase makes me think of carnival games, but why offer a cigar as a prize, since I imagine the challengers were suitors trying to win cuddly toys for their lady friends or competitive young boys? Oh wait! That's it! I guess BT was already on the historical scene, probably paying carnies to pass out cigars to 12-year-olds.
But I digress...well, actually, I don't. This is how my mind works. Someone must ponder, muse, expand upon and perhaps find interconnection between all the fleeting thoughts no one has time to contemplate anymore. I would practice Zen in this world if I could sit still long enough. My guppy attention span only applies to this dimension. In the parallels I am enlightened, a mad scientist, a scribe, and a seer with a Wendy House in a Bodhi tree. Sid makes a great writing desk, even without a raven.
So back to what some of you believe is real:
Phileas Fogg -
Around the World in 80 Days Verne, Jules (1879) I never read the book, but loved the film. I hope to god I don't start singing the theme song again. It was stuck in my head for a month once. No Becky! I forbid your ear worms! I already know it by heart!
Phineas 'Finny': Incorrigible:
A Separate Peace Knowles, John (1959). I remember reading it in high school and liking it, but I doubt I would now. A bit of sophomoric angst with an unreal resolution, don't you think? Which is easier, making teenagers depressed or shooting fish in a barrel? For boys' schools and accidents I prefer
A Prayer for Owen Meany Irving, John (1989). Just as fantastical as Knowles's work, but presents itself more as an ironic morality play - the angst is exaggerated and humorous. There are no bears in it as I recall, or if so, not part of a story arc.
No, the little yet to be christened (paganed?) box is named for:
Phidias, or The Great Pheidias (in Ancient Greek, Φειδίας; c. 480 – 430 BC), a Greek sculptor, painter and architect, who lived in the 5th century BC, and is commonly regarded as one of the greatest of all sculptors of Classical Greece.
As fono explained:
He had me at Fibonacci. Now I'm thinking of balloons.