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Ogden Nash hasn't been around for a while, but the need for him remains steady. Readers who counted on him for more than forty years in these pages--this one, at least--still instinctively look for the restorative Nashian couplet or clarifying stanza about today's water-quaffers, navel-piercers, abs-flaunters, and cell-gabblers, not to mention the assertive S.U.V., the forty-room beach cottage, and "could care less." Born a hundred years ago next month, Nash looked and dressed like a bond salesman or an advertising man (he tried both, briefly), but he made his name and a nice living as a serious practitioner of light verse: the best of his time. His ...