i have what you've been searching for
things like:
fuck me doctor (she's never gonna fuck you, buddy)and last but not least,
dain bramage (me too!)
i have been known to slice my arms open for shits'n'giggles (me too, too!)
sapiens bar (oh, i fucking wish)
awful blog
you deck of wankers.
L
17 comments:
Drain bamage, oneany?
It took me way too long to untangle that sentence. I'm honestly worried.
"I'm sick to spoon?!"
Occasionally I type shit in there, for the hijinks and minstrelsy.
I do this because on a rainy day, when no one wants to play, and you are tired of bleeding everywhere, you can have fun guessing whose inane statements are whose!
ok, confession, i'm the one who typed in that "dain bramage" one (at least twice). i just thought that was rather amusing.
~Ian
Max - the squared Spoonerism is perhaps something only i think is funny. the unmangled sentence is "i'm sick to death of all these fucking Spoonerisms," and can be translated as "HA HA LOOK AT ME I OBTAINED FULL MARKS IN ENGLISH LITERATURE AT COLLEGE AND THIS IS WHAT I DO WITH IT!"
Johnny - you spoony bard.
Ian - what the fuck were you looking for? we're all broein daemigad here.
L
Only MDs-- PhDs get annoying real fast, and can't write you any scrips or treat you for shock or anything cool like that.
malces, if i ever have sex that requires shock treatment afterwards, i'll consider myself to have finally tried real BDSM.
L
Lepht: The shock treatment isn't for afterwards (wink wink).
Also, I like the idea of a 'squared' (as you call it) spoonerism (kinda like a rightshift?). I'd like to see a witty rhetoric device that uses the fibonacci sequence. Yes, that's a challenge.
It's such a shame I'm not that witty. I never even had such a useful class as English literature. I actually had to read books in my free time! Le gasp. (Well, I didn't have to, but I did anyway)
@L--that phrase suddenly came into my head, and i kept wondering where the fuck i had heard it. eventually my obsessive search led me to this site, where i typed it in and confirmed that i had heard it on here.
and according to wikipedia, dain bramage was apparently a band in the 1980s or something (i can't remember, and i can't be arsed to look it up again).
~Ian
Max - i've tried weird shit with electrodes and scrota, buddy, you don't need to wink wink me. also it's probably not wise to mistake my combination of prolixity, old lit references and meme-vomiting for actual wit.
English Lit's a crappy class full of over-interpreting morons who think they're the new Frank Kermode, by the way.
Ian - that explains it.
L
@Lepht:
let's not further investigate any trains of thought that lead into the scrotum of british biohackers, okay?
Call it sad, but yes I do consider you witty, and if it weren't for you my English vocabulary would be at least 10 words smaller and my idea of transhumanism a lot more conceptual and abstract.
If anything, a single hour of English literature would probably advance my English skills more than all those years of what they like to pretend is English class at school.
Also, old lit references are usually a sign of a good education and appreciation for actually intelligent arts.
Also, insert 'merchant of venice' quote here.
Ian - Frank Kermode is actually a very literate and eloquent Shakespeare critic. he is what all the assholes in that class aspired to be - namely, correct, incisive, concise and amusing all at the same time.
suffice to say that they did not manage to take his place. longtime exposure to Kermode is also what gave me the superpower of decent English and the Kryptonite weakness of typing paragraphs longer than most people's blog entries.
Max - indeed. i remind you all that my gender is indefinite, and my physical sex for the most part unknown.
thanks, i think. personally i consider myself a pompous motherfucker; potayto potaahto. i guess i'm trying to go the way of Stephen King rather than Laurell K. Hamilton; the writer's idea of how fucking awesome their writing is seems to be inversely proportional to its actual merit.
but yeah, Lit is very good for language skills. Baudelaire did more for my French fluency than French classes ever did. that, and it gives you a sense of the actual craft of making words flow; you see the masters at work - Oscar Wilde, for instance - and suddenly you get a dose of reality, including the ability to improve your own shit.
on that note, everyone should go and see FleursDuMal.org, which is run by a construct like yours truly called Supervert. Supervert has the entire works of the Marquis de Sade on its own site as well, which are worth reading if only to appreciate exactly how far one human being can sink.
L
Frank Kermode was very a literate, eloquent Shakespeare critic. He died on August 17, says Wikipedia.
I guess unnecessary (maybe even false) modesty is still better than arrogance about shitty work. Still, credit where credit is due, I wouldn't be able to even think of anything to write about, let alone get it on paper/disk in any decent form.
The only book I ever read by Wilde was The Picture of Dorian Gray, but I adored what I've read so far, so I'll have to agree with what you said about the masters of the art showing you how to make words flow (the character of Henry has a wonderful way with words). I've still got a pile of classics lying here that I should really read...
If only my French were good enough to appreciate Baudelaire, but alas, I couldn't even order a hamburger in French, so I'll have to pass.
With this, I now leave you to go read (and hopefully finish) a book.
Perhaps I shall try my hands at writing some day, but again - I wouldn't know what to write about. And unless that changes, there's not really anything I could do about it. Call it a non-writer's block if you like. If I ever come around to writing something usable, I'll either post it into one of these delicious comment threads or I'll send it to you via mail.
I checked out fleursdumal.org (and your latest post), and it turns out my French isn't as rusty as I'd thought, for while there were quite a few words I didn't understand, google translate and wiktionary did the job well enough. Wow.
nice, isn't it? i suggest "A Carcass", for old Charles at his simultaneous nastiest and most glorious.
L
Any words of appreciation I could muster would only seem to spite the brilliance and beauty of that poem.
I might just adopt a new policy of 'A Baudelaire a day...' to keep my slushy headmeat fit and busy.
you've got to wonder what the fuck was wrong with him, but at the same time i can't help envying the man's vision.
L
Post a Comment
[pls no ask about the vodka. debate is always welcome. remember, Tramadol fucks you up]