We’re big fans of free here at CMEpalooza headquarters. Just ask our trusty interns, who constantly ask about things like “back pay” and “overtime” and “bonuses.” Ha ha, keep dreaming people!

But anyway, we know that a slice of the CME/CE community is decamping to the Alliance meeting in National Harbor, MD, this week, so we figured we’d come up with something special for our friends and fans in attendance.

Find Derek (he’s the tall guy with the goofy grin and the faraway look in his eyes) and utter the simple phrase “Shake Milton” to get a free — yes, free! — registration to CMEpalooza Spring (offer limited to the first 500 participants).

Even better, this simple utterance will serve as an ice breaker to talk to Derek about any number of topics about which he is passionate. For instance: Cocoa Puffs, synchronized swimming, supply-side economics, the War of 1812, archipelagos, and postmodern architecture. He’s a fascinating guy.

We work in a strange industry.

Where else can you spend days/weeks slaving over an intricate document (ie, the dreaded grant proposal) with a total inability to talk to the party that will receive your work and get a sense of their general expectations? And then have absolutely no idea whether the “denied” request was “good, but not enough,” “just OK,” or “absolutely dreadful”?

Take the following scenario for example:

Little Derek W. (I have de-identified our “fictional” subject to protect his identity) is assigned a book report by his 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Mathewson. He is allowed to pick a book of his choosing and then must write about the topic of “I would/would not recommend this book to a friend because…”

Derek W. is an avid Nancy Drew fan, so chooses the classic, The Secret of the Old Clock. But Derek W. is confused. He goes up to Mrs. Mathewson to ask for her help.

“Is my ‘friend’ supposed to be a kid or an adult? And what if there are some reasons I would recommend the book, but other reasons why I wouldn’t? How long is this report supposed to be? Does it need to be handwritten or can I type out my response?”

Mrs. Mathewson completely stonewalls him. She ignores him as if he doesn’t exist (just like the girls on the playground). Derek W. asks his parents if they can help. “Sorry son. This whole book report thing is a mystery to us, too.”

So Derek W. does his best, trying to figure out what Mrs. Mathewson is looking for. A few weeks later, he gets a crumpled up note passed to him after class.

“You failed.”

Derek W. is apoplectic. Tears are streaming down his face. He goes up to Mrs. Mathewson, asks her, “Why did I fail? What was wrong with my book report?”

She said, “Sorry. I can’t tell you. It could be that we had too many reports on the same book, it could be that your report didn’t align to the criteria of our grading committee, it could be that we had already given out too many other passing grades.” That’s all I can really say.

Seems rather familiar to many of us, right?

Today though, you are in luck my friend, because I am about to unlock every secret to a successful abstract submission for CMEpalooza Spring. Perhaps you noticed last week’s Call for Abstracts where we provided basic information on how to submit an abstract for our upcoming Spring event (Wednesday, April 17) and you are noodling over an idea or two.

Well, just so you don’t waste too much time, I am going to tell you exactly what you need to do to guarantee* that your abstract gets accepted by our esteemed abstract review committee (* – not guaranteed):

DO – Read the guidelines carefully before you submit and follow all of the instructions
DON’T – Think to yourself, “Eh, they probably don’t mean this. I’m just going to submit for a boring, 60-minute, PowerPoint heavy presentation on a topic that is pretty dull and drab.”

DO – Recruit colleagues from a variety of professional settings. We love having a variety of viewpoints for our sessions. CMEpalooza veterans, CMEpalooza rookies – doesn’t matter.
DON’T – Only include your friend in the cube next to yours as a co-presenter. You certainly can only include people from your own organization, but there should be a reason for that beyond, “I am feeling lazy.”

DO – Submit a fresh idea that has never been presented before.
DON’T – Recycle a session that you have presented in the past at another venue. If you give it a fresh twist, great. But if you are simply submitting the same idea to us that you are presenting at another venue before CMEpalooza Spring, we can usually tell.

DO – Pay attention to the February 1 submission deadline
DON’T – Submit something on February 2. We don’t look kindly upon tardiness.

DO – Check your spelling and grammar before you submit your abstract.
DON’T – Submit an abstract written in a foreign language. Por favor.

DO – Take a chance. “I don’t know if this is going to work, but we’re willing to try” is good for CMEpalooza
DO – Think about the nuts and bolts of your session before you submit. “We think this is going to work and it’s going to be really cool” is even better
DO – Propose some sort of wacky format that is going to be fun for you, your co-presenters, and our audience. “We are super excited about this. It’s weird, but it’s going to be awesome” is even better still!

There, that should do it. A guaranteed* acceptance (* – not guaranteed).

Perhaps you have other questions for us. Great! We can answer every single one. If you are going to the Alliance next week, feel free to corner Derek and fire away. He loves talking to people for hours! (note from Derek: I do not.) Here are some topics he loves discussing to help you break the ice: fashion, tennis, Asian cuisine, dominoes, the Punic Wars, crocheting. And, of course, the Nancy Drew series.

Whoops, I just de-de-identified our “fictional” student, didn’t I? Oh well.

DISCLAIMER: It’s not always easy in this era of “right vs. left” animosity to laugh about anything. This is my attempt at satire. Hopefully it works.  

For every great event, there is a history. Sometimes, this history is written down for the record. Sometimes it is told in story, passed down from generation to generation. Sometimes, this history is buried deep and eventually wiped away, never to be discovered by the general public.

So yes, there is history to CMEpalooza, some of which Derek and I have hidden to both protect ourselves and to cover up some of our shameful past.

In light of recent political events, though, there is one moment that we feel we need to speak up about, and we’ll do that here, today, so that you can judge for yourselves.

It occurred early in the days of CMEpalooza, just as Derek was preparing to unleash his first batch of CMEpalooza Haikus on his adoring fans. You may now know CMEpalooza Haiku as one of our most revered (or pathetic, depending on your perspective) traditions, but like many traditions, CMEpalooza Haiku had a bumpy launch.

As he prepared the first batch of 5-7-5 verses, there were accusations levied against Derek from deep in his past, accusations that both surprised and flummoxed him. These accusations were serious, serious enough to bring into question his ability to share his poetic “skills” to the world of CMEpalooza. He was asked to testify before a group of CME/CE leaders to address these accusations.

Here is the transcript of his testimony, with no judgement or snarky asides added:

Ms. Chairman, members of the committee, thank you for allowing me to make my statement. I wrote it myself yesterday afternoon and evening. No one has seen a draft of it, except for my dentist, who won a poetry contest in 10^th grade. This is my statement.

Less than two weeks ago, Mr. Richardson publicly accused me of writing a haiku with the improper number of syllables in the second line during our 10^th grade English class. I denied the allegation immediately, categorically and unequivocally. All 14 of the other students in the class, including two of the accuser’s close friends, have said they recall no such haiku. One of these longtime friends said under penalty of perjury that he does not remember even reading one of my haikus.

The day after this allegation appeared, I told this committee that I wanted a hearing as soon as possible to clear my name. I demanded a hearing the very next day. Unfortunately, it took this committee 10 days to schedule this hearing. In those 10 days, as I predicted, my family and my reputation as a haiku savant have been totally and permanently destroyed by additional vicious and false allegations.

One accuser claimed that I argued as a college junior that “occasionally” was a 4-syllable word.

Another stepped forward to accuse me of reusing the same haiku to win a poetry contest in elementary school.

Finally, and perhaps most disappointingly, my wife’s 2^nd cousin claimed that he overheard me on the phone begging someone to dictate a haiku for me that would smooth over one of the disagreements that occurred early in my marriage.

When these allegations first arose, I welcomed any kind of investigation by any member of the CME community. This committee now has conducted a thorough investigations, and I’ve cooperated fully. Listen to the people I know. Listen to the people who’ve known me my whole life. Listen to the people I’ve grown up with, and worked with, and played with, and coached with, and gone to 76ers games with, and had Shirley Temples with. And listen to the witnesses who were in my English class 29 years ago.

Since I first announced plans for a CMEpalooza Haiku blog post in July, there’s been a frenzy among poet laurates around the United States to come up with something, anything, to prevent CMEpalooza Haiku. Shortly after I announced plans for CMEpalooza Haiku, one individual said he would, “use every limerick, sonnet, and elegy she could write” to destroy CMEpalooza Haiku. Another individual claimed that CMEpalooza Haiku was “childish.” Childish. Think about that word. It means “like a child.” To insinuate that CMEpalooza Haiku could be written by a 7-year-old is well, OK, maybe it’s true, but it still hurts.

I understand the passions of the moment, but I would say to this committee, your words – whether they rhyme or not – have meaning. Tens of CME professionals listen carefully to you.

The behavior of the poetry and CME community has been an embarrassment. This first allegation was held in secret for weeks by a venerable poet until it was clear that CMEpalooza Haiku had overcome previous hurdles and would soon be a reality.

And then – as no doubt was expected, if not planned – came a long series of false allegations designed to put my ability to create three simple 5-7-5 lines of poetry on my own in question.

Crazy stuff. Alleged midnight library raids when I have been accused of destroying Shakespeare plays. Fights on boats in Rhode Island over the merits of Robert Frost. All nonsense, reported breathlessly by my sworn enemies.

This is a circus whose consequences will extend long past the life of CMEpalooza Haiku. The consequences will be with us for decades. This grotesque and coordinated character assassination will dissuade competent and good poets of all genders, colors, and creeds from writing witty haikus.

I’m here today to tell the truth. I’ve never written an illegitimate haiku in my life. Not in high school, not in college, not ever. One of my closest friends to this day writes limericks for his church group every week – he confided me in the 2000s when we were in our 30s that he had been accused as the originator of the “There once was a man from Nantucket” limerick. He sought my advice. I was one of the only people he consulted.

Allegations of poetic impropriety must always be taken seriously, always. Those who makes allegations always deserve to be heard. At the same time, the person who was the subject of the allegations also deserves to be heard.

As you know, I am a child of two of the least accomplished poets of their time. My mother spent hours every Sunday trying to find a word that rhymed with “leprechaun.” My father overcame numerous taunts as the only poet in southern Delaware who focused exclusively on the obscure sestina.

My parents’ trademark line was, “Use your poetic sense. What sounds right to you? What sounds wrong?”

This onslaught of last-minute allegations does not ring true. I am not questioning that Mr. Richardson may have read an ill-constructed haiku written by some person in some place at some time. But I have never written such a haiku. That’s not who I am. It is not who I was. I am innocent of this charge.

Mr. Richardson’s accusation stems from an English class assignment that he alleges was given to us during the spring of 1989, 29 years ago. I have submitted to this committee a list of every homework assignment I was given during that year. Why did I keep such a list? My dad started listing every task he completed during every day of his life in 1978. He did so, well, I don’t why he did so, but he did.

In ninth grade, I started keeping lists of my own. I’ve kept such lists for the last 29 years. When I was a kid, the lists are about what you’d expect – some goofy parts, some embarrassing parts.

But I did have the spring of 1989 documented pretty well. The assignment described by Mrs. Richardson presumably was given in April because I believe we were working exclusively on a term paper about the symbolism of The Scarlet Letter during the rest of the semester.

If it was in April of 1989, my lists show that I had no time to write a haiku on top of the burden of homework that I was required to complete. Let me emphasize this point – if the assignment described by Mr. Richardson happened in April of 1989, my list shows all but definitely that I did not complete it.

One feature of my life that has remained true to the present day is that I have always had a lot of close friends who were poets. This started in high school. Maybe because I have always been socially awkward and prefer to converse in rhyme.

But anyway, I remember writing haikus nearly every night and sharing them with Barry, Jessica, Tom, Mike, Lauren, or Natalie. The list goes on – friends for a lifetime, built on a foundation of 5-7-5. Several of these colleagues left their houses for the first time in many years to be here sitting behind me today.

These friends have rallied around me to help refute these ugly allegations. If these allegations prove to be enough to destroy the life’s work of an aspiring poet, we will have abandoned the basic principles of fairness and due process that define our community.

I will leave you with this thought as you judge these circumstances:

Let the haikus live

For CMEpalooza

Withers without them

CMEpalooza Haiku – coming Wednesday. Judge for yourself everyone.