As a long-standing tradition, nominations for officers of the Cambridge Entomological Club are presented in verse.
Once upon a meeting dreary, while I suffered cladistic theory, and many a curious presentation of synapomorphic lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my conscience door. "'Tis some forgotten duty," I muttered, "tapping at my conscience door; Only this, and nothing more." Ah, this pang of conscience fleeting, suffered at the April meeting, As each separate slide wrought its ghost above stage floor. The certain cause of my anxiety: failed tradition of our society. Missed appointment of committee, committee to serve as nominor. What insistent prodding need we to appoint the nominor? Guidance of Frank Carpentor? Later we sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing a candidate, to take the yoke of president's chore. But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only sentence spoken, "Who shall be our office-or? Tell us what the lordly name is, who shall be head office-or? Must Moffett serve one term more?" Then, methought, the air grew lighter, as if o'erhanging boughs grew brighter, filigreed by feeding of distant caterpillor. So that now, to still the beating of our hearts, we stood repeating, O'er the phone we called, entreating, take the office we implore! Find the speakers, lead the meetings, take the office we implore! For president, Dave Wagnor. Dave agreed, but dwells so distant, that he needed dual assistant steeped in Harvard arcana and club proceed-yore. Vice presidents dependably stand in, while Presidents travel o'er the land in pursuit of research goals grand, in tradition we have seen before. Neglected duty beckons us to choose those we have seen before: Mark Moffett and Stephen Covor. Quickly then we thought we'd wheedle, the master Cicindellid beetle Loyal member of our club one third century and more. Treasurer for years unnumbered, with actuarial duty encumbered, our coffers lie yet unplundered, long has he this burden bore. Drearily dunning mendicant members, long has he this burden bore. Jay Shetterly, Treasurer, for ever more. The final office, nuisance catch-all, odds and ends combined unnatural, Minutes, announcements, refreshments and more. There's a penalty for abusing, penalty for rhyme confusing, Mocking The Raven and reusing poetry parodied long before. For the crimes, for the errors, tortures suffered long before, Mike Huben, Secretary, one year more.Lest deliberate misspellings confuse us, the candidates are:
|Co-Vice Presidents:||Mark Moffett and Stephen Cover|
Twas' brillig, and the slithy larv-ee did gyre and gimble in the nest; All cladistic were the phylogenee, and coevolution was addressed. "Beware the nominations, Stef-un, the job appalling, with poem to match, Beware, no one will want to run, candidates are hard to catch." With nominating power in his hand. long time he foraged for his prey; So rested he, by a magnolia tree, trailing pheromones all the way. And as in ant-ic thought he stood, the candidate, thesis ideas aflame, return-ed from the tropical wood, carrying fungi as she came. One, two! One, two! And through and through his persuasive tongue went snicker snack! Her assent came, with Sophie Addams' name, he went galumphing back. And hast thou found the candidates? Come to my arms, myrmecophilous boy! Mike Huben VP, Treasurer Jay Shetterly, Gary Alpert for secretar-oy. Twas' brillig, and the slithy larv-ee did gyre and gimble in the nest; All cladistic were the phylogenee, and coevolution was addressed.
Lest deliberate misspellings and mispronunciations confuse us, the candidates are:
|Vice President:||Mike Huben|