Call for Submissions
Horror, Sleaze and Trash is currently accepting poetry submissions for the Summer 2017 issue of HST Quarterly.
If you're familiar with our website, then you already know the type of shit we usually publish, but our previous issues should give you an even better idea of what we'd like for the book. Please visit our Submissions page or submit directly to the editor at arthur.graham.pub@gmail.com.
All contributors are entitled to print/distribute their own copies however they see fit, so send us your very best shit!
A diversion. Early Stones' hit. Didn't do this too much at the lucrative revival fests. Kind of a pain in the tuchis to keep explaining generalities versus specifics, I would think.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtqTS...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtqTS...
Who says that Bizarro writers are totally useless? Certainly not me. Competence and creativity are totally seperate issues. Enjoy this song, which for some strange reason (unless you look at the pictures) came to mind only because of the self elected mavens of the 2017 surreal absurdist world. We owe them a click and a fake like on one of their many desolate websites.
"Here comes the con man.
Coming with his con plan."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWWBD...
"Here comes the con man.
Coming with his con plan."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWWBD...
Some "responsible" Trump, Putin, and Kim-Jong analysts have mentioned the "frivolous" nature of this thread. Their posts elsewhere piss and moan about Facism and crap like that or they pontificate as if they were an "intelligence" advisor to somebody important. If you ask them their plan or anything potentially useful you get deleted. So right here on the thread which brought you Arthur Grakam in his drawers we're going to get political, and even suggest a concrete solution to the mess.
Those fart noises are a highly overlooked method for registering one's opinion about things. In addition there are these cheap little rubber things anyone can afford, and they not only turn up the decibels, but they also ensure a perfect brup-pup-pup-pup-pup every time.
Just imagine what would happen if whenever the farts tried to speak they were greeted with thousands of amplified fart sounds. Oh, the speakers would probably make some comments about childishness or something, and how they were seriously trying to do things for the people's benefit which would invite a flatulent burst heard in the next county.
I mean what the hell. They're going to do whatever damage is necessary to line their pockets. Can't change that. But at least we can laugh and tell them that we know they're crooks. A couple of them might actually get embarrassed. I mean how's a guy to feel when he comes home at night and his five year okd girl asks him; "Daddy, why do they make those fart noises at you?"
I suspect the next step will be that they'll outlaw the fart machines; make them a Class 1 controlled dangerous substance or something. But underground markets will soon emerge making the possession of a fart machine a super cool thing. We can power up to blowing raspberries.
Armed camps of fart machine manufacturers and distributors will prove too powerful for official forces and the powers-that-be will find it practical to legalize and tax them.
That's when the next Revolution comes as the fart machine wielding people will demand "No taxation without representation."
The fart will be heard around the world.
Those fart noises are a highly overlooked method for registering one's opinion about things. In addition there are these cheap little rubber things anyone can afford, and they not only turn up the decibels, but they also ensure a perfect brup-pup-pup-pup-pup every time.
Just imagine what would happen if whenever the farts tried to speak they were greeted with thousands of amplified fart sounds. Oh, the speakers would probably make some comments about childishness or something, and how they were seriously trying to do things for the people's benefit which would invite a flatulent burst heard in the next county.
I mean what the hell. They're going to do whatever damage is necessary to line their pockets. Can't change that. But at least we can laugh and tell them that we know they're crooks. A couple of them might actually get embarrassed. I mean how's a guy to feel when he comes home at night and his five year okd girl asks him; "Daddy, why do they make those fart noises at you?"
I suspect the next step will be that they'll outlaw the fart machines; make them a Class 1 controlled dangerous substance or something. But underground markets will soon emerge making the possession of a fart machine a super cool thing. We can power up to blowing raspberries.
Armed camps of fart machine manufacturers and distributors will prove too powerful for official forces and the powers-that-be will find it practical to legalize and tax them.
That's when the next Revolution comes as the fart machine wielding people will demand "No taxation without representation."
The fart will be heard around the world.
Support has already come in from our British comrades; in the form of phrases to be used on bumper stickers and whatnot. This is absolute proof that those goofball conspiracy theorists who suggest that the UK controls everything and that the Queen has 888,000,000,000 million billion pounds know as much about that as they do writing without Wiki copying.
1)If voting changed anything they'd abolish it
2)Don't vote, it only encourages them
3)No matter who you vote for, the government always gets in
1)If voting changed anything they'd abolish it
2)Don't vote, it only encourages them
3)No matter who you vote for, the government always gets in
On an author page, an author pretended that GR asked him a question for which he just happened to have a long ass answer ready, which once again concluded in the author's delusional belief that it is destiny which has appointed him world savior. "Ever since I was a child ................................... "
After I stopped laughing and blowing snot all over the computer, I copied this "GR generated quetion" so that I could answer it for my fans.
What mystery in your own life could be a plot for a book?
Thank you for not asking me that GR, as I wonder why people don't see me as the friendly, loving, and generous sort of person I am.
After I stopped laughing and blowing snot all over the computer, I copied this "GR generated quetion" so that I could answer it for my fans.
What mystery in your own life could be a plot for a book?
Thank you for not asking me that GR, as I wonder why people don't see me as the friendly, loving, and generous sort of person I am.
CoolieC wrote: "I wonder why people don't see me as the friendly, loving, and generous sort of person I am."Perhaps they simply envy your suavity, poise, and general savoir faire?
Arthur said; "Perhaps they simply envy your suavity, poise, and general savoir faire?"
It's difficult to be a well-mannered and erudite Henry James in 2017. Good breeding is often confused with stand-offishness.
I again thank you for your now expected perfect insight.
I beg to note that "suavity," while an acceptable term, is a tad of an odd usage which sounds as plebian as Stanley Kowalski yelling "Stella." I'm sure that you would not wish your eloquent persona to be misunderstood. "Suaveness" is preferable amongst our kind.
WELL, JUST FUCK THE ASSHOLES THEN. SHEEEIT.
It's difficult to be a well-mannered and erudite Henry James in 2017. Good breeding is often confused with stand-offishness.
I again thank you for your now expected perfect insight.
I beg to note that "suavity," while an acceptable term, is a tad of an odd usage which sounds as plebian as Stanley Kowalski yelling "Stella." I'm sure that you would not wish your eloquent persona to be misunderstood. "Suaveness" is preferable amongst our kind.
WELL, JUST FUCK THE ASSHOLES THEN. SHEEEIT.
In keeeping with the original poetic aspect of this thread, I enclose one. You may freely use it. You can also attribute it to my real name, multiplying sales levels.
“On his trusty mount
the Rider sees the old town;
the strollers on the slope and
the burning on the ground.
He sees the church bells;
tongues stolen and mute in the hot breeze.
He gets to keep the picture
which he’d like to change.
Way up in the penthouse;
the IOU’s play at the table.
The big ones got the seats.
The arrangements are made.
Below, Furry sings the blues;
drunk on the byway.
The high rise blocks the sun;
and Furry sleeps for another day.
A cacophony erupts
on the landing strip.
Briefcases are traded.
The Man checks and flies away.
See the garden town
and the homes of the passably permitted pro tems.
She knows how to courteously collect.
His art is to rudely impose.
The bored kids show up
They all feign a thrill.
The OxyContin kicks in
And the family survives one more day.”
“On his trusty mount
the Rider sees the old town;
the strollers on the slope and
the burning on the ground.
He sees the church bells;
tongues stolen and mute in the hot breeze.
He gets to keep the picture
which he’d like to change.
Way up in the penthouse;
the IOU’s play at the table.
The big ones got the seats.
The arrangements are made.
Below, Furry sings the blues;
drunk on the byway.
The high rise blocks the sun;
and Furry sleeps for another day.
A cacophony erupts
on the landing strip.
Briefcases are traded.
The Man checks and flies away.
See the garden town
and the homes of the passably permitted pro tems.
She knows how to courteously collect.
His art is to rudely impose.
The bored kids show up
They all feign a thrill.
The OxyContin kicks in
And the family survives one more day.”
Gee, some ass forgot about the music today. This one comes to mind. It was super popular and super artistic. Shows that can be done ............................ by about three people. Anyway, here's a cover of it. No. No, don't say that. In this one you can make out the words better, and you know, Patti can handle anything.
"So self assured.
I know I know.
Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, and one more hello"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoNeY...
"So self assured.
I know I know.
Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, and one more hello"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoNeY...
For the poets who may still be there. ............................ Hello?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6u-p...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6u-p...
I believe the closing line to "A Thousand Clowns" was "I have nothing more to say." Might be mistaken as I saw it 100 years ago.
CoolieC wrote: "I have nothing more to say."That'll be the day, CoolieC!
Arthur said; "That'll be the day, CoolieC!"
Right again, dammit. The precise statement should have been something like; "I will refrain from saying anything which a reasonably or not intelligent GR viewer might construe, rightly or wrongly as stupid, mean spirited, or off topic; insofar as that topic has been defined and praticed by the majority of said GR viewers; on this thread but not limited thereto; and will follow the chief's instructions as to which words are unacceptable; though I frankly cannot understand what is wrong with the word "sucko" as it may apply as an adjective to a rendition by a well known artist, sometimes deceased and in any case not the bit fazed by the opinion of moi, which rendition is called a song, instrumental or whatever the current genres are named; which I don't like. In any case books and authors are sacred and in no case, will they be subjected to anything near abuse or the limitations previously stated herein, as may be defined in DSM5, or rendered by Goodreads or Amazon management; the last word not in the least bit sarcastic."
Don't you now wish I stuck with the first short sentence?
In addition, it is recognized that to meet that promise is more difficult than reaching nirvana; which will no doubt negatively effect fecundity.
Right again, dammit. The precise statement should have been something like; "I will refrain from saying anything which a reasonably or not intelligent GR viewer might construe, rightly or wrongly as stupid, mean spirited, or off topic; insofar as that topic has been defined and praticed by the majority of said GR viewers; on this thread but not limited thereto; and will follow the chief's instructions as to which words are unacceptable; though I frankly cannot understand what is wrong with the word "sucko" as it may apply as an adjective to a rendition by a well known artist, sometimes deceased and in any case not the bit fazed by the opinion of moi, which rendition is called a song, instrumental or whatever the current genres are named; which I don't like. In any case books and authors are sacred and in no case, will they be subjected to anything near abuse or the limitations previously stated herein, as may be defined in DSM5, or rendered by Goodreads or Amazon management; the last word not in the least bit sarcastic."
Don't you now wish I stuck with the first short sentence?
In addition, it is recognized that to meet that promise is more difficult than reaching nirvana; which will no doubt negatively effect fecundity.
CoolieC wrote: "Don't you now wish I stuck with the first short sentence?"Man, all I gotta do is wind you up and let you go!
Arthur wrote; "Man, all I gotta do is wind you up and let you go!"
Haruki also did that a while back; and I wasn't all that thrilled about it then either.
Haruki also did that a while back; and I wasn't all that thrilled about it then either.
MIDWAY. Let's start the day with a display of sophisticated intelligence. I once read it to my wife and she said; "You didn't write that," so its got a better than usual chance of being considered good. The rest of the 70 pages are the standard yadda yadda two guys sittig at a bar discuss; tricky women, lying contractors, annoying college professors, and whether or not that particular trip to the bathroom was really required.
The scene is an upscale bar on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The establishment’s entrance is crowned by a de classe chic neon sign, which somewhat marks its presence. The institution is called “Midway.” This identity is the periodic subject of internal theories articulated in bemused idle bar time. Midway’s possible meaning ranges from the geographical location on the island, which is confounded by the “real vs. true” debate which essentially hinges on whether or not a supposed participant considers Harlem a part of Manhattan; not to the exclusion of other salient considerations; to the simplistic reference to an unremembered World War Two battle which is said to have been of momentary significance. The neon “D” is blinking, and its radiance spends more time off than on. This electrical failure has caused increased consternation over the meaning of Midway as many suppose that there are no accidents; and sans the almost centered “D” the word becomes “Miway,” remarkably similar to the name of a mid-sixties Frank Sinatra number one tune; complicated further by the possible pre-awakening message which may be gleaned from the one off title. The man who invented bobby soxing did surreptitiously own bars. Did he not? The crackle is annoying to passersby; but is of no note to the insiders behind the vacuum packed front door. Jovial patrons sit at the bar and two are ostensibly speaking to each other. We pick up at some point, which seems not to be the origin.
The scene is an upscale bar on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The establishment’s entrance is crowned by a de classe chic neon sign, which somewhat marks its presence. The institution is called “Midway.” This identity is the periodic subject of internal theories articulated in bemused idle bar time. Midway’s possible meaning ranges from the geographical location on the island, which is confounded by the “real vs. true” debate which essentially hinges on whether or not a supposed participant considers Harlem a part of Manhattan; not to the exclusion of other salient considerations; to the simplistic reference to an unremembered World War Two battle which is said to have been of momentary significance. The neon “D” is blinking, and its radiance spends more time off than on. This electrical failure has caused increased consternation over the meaning of Midway as many suppose that there are no accidents; and sans the almost centered “D” the word becomes “Miway,” remarkably similar to the name of a mid-sixties Frank Sinatra number one tune; complicated further by the possible pre-awakening message which may be gleaned from the one off title. The man who invented bobby soxing did surreptitiously own bars. Did he not? The crackle is annoying to passersby; but is of no note to the insiders behind the vacuum packed front door. Jovial patrons sit at the bar and two are ostensibly speaking to each other. We pick up at some point, which seems not to be the origin.
Anticipating the inevitable charge of being a mean tease for not letting people know the ending, the writer has herein posted the last chapter appropriately titled "Graduate Level Toilet Training." To be honest, the title is the best part of it.
Graduate Level Toilet Training
Ian: “Er, um. Didn’t you kind of cover that while you were on your throne avoiding Donald?”
Gerald: “A provocative opening always gets attention, no?”
Ian: “My level of apprehension has been effectively intensified, but I still have a few reservations about the anticipated book.”
Gerald: “You still judge a book by its cover?”
Ian: “ .............. “
Gerald: “Ah, you are my silent, compliant prisoner. Allow me to assure you that things are not as bad as they appear.”
Ian: “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Gerald: “Puerile physicist. My toilet problems are not what you apparently assume; though the current manifestation may well be a metaphorical function of what you may be thinking. Or not. As far as I can see it is merely a matter of incompetence and deceit.”
Ian: “I am not fully convinced, but I am somewhat relieved that you didn’t say incontinence and decay. The visual images were disconcerting.”
Gerald: “I am complimented. Overnight relief is the grandest claim anyone has yet made; despite the non-enforcement of the ‘Truth in Advertising’ laws. It is petty, but not in the sense of DFW’s characterization of the entirety of TV and anti-TV. My toilet story is rather banal with no fantods explicit or implied.”
Ian: “No. No. Not less than ‘Angie Tribeca.’ The viewership can consistently decline no more.”
Gerald: “Do not ever forget that ’Less than Zero’ has been popularized through the ‘credentials’ of the Bennington Brigade. One risks the possibility of being viewed as vulgar to not recognize the relevance and genius.”
Ian: “I am embarrassed beyond comment. I implore you not to reveal this to anyone.”
Gerald: “You have my word; though I must assume that you are aware that the audio and video of everything is on the internet, regardless of preference.”
Ian: “I can only hope that it is not another case of ‘going viral’ on Fecesbook.”
Gerald: “We will soon see. My story begins with that I live in a thirty-five year old, two bedroom, two bath condo which my wife of similar duration chose to ‘update.’ She has an affinity for contemporary styling, ostensibly for the benefit of the company we do our best to avoid.”
Ian: “Moi?”
Gerald: “You’ll do until I can re-access my bathroom. You think that Sophie was a bad choice? You should see these ‘contractors.’ Since there was nothing wrong with them I had no interest in ‘updating’ our kitchen and baths. That was a mistake, as it was taken as an excuse for wifey to make her own arrangements.”
Ian: “Are you suggesting that you should have shown interest when there was none? I’m shocked at the thought.”
Gerald: “You still haven’t learned. If you had feigned interest in Sophie when you first met you wouldn’t have had all the guilt problems later. Same idea. Wifey wanted to be ‘professional’ about it, so she looked it up on the internet, solicited five bids and agreed to the lowest one after checking Better Business Bureau complaints. The net result of her ‘professionalism’ was to hire two idiots who have had no on-line complaints because the extent of their prior re-modeling experience was to mow Douglaston lawns and plant rock gardens.”
Ian: “Planting a rock garden is not the easiest thing to do. In fact Orientals have made this into an art form through ......... “
Gerald: “Shut up, Ian.”
Ian: “No one has dared to say that to me since ........ “
Gerald: “If you say one more word I’ll punch you.”
Ian: “...... “
Gerald: “Good man. First I should say that the kitchen remodeling was done by someone else. It turned out as expected; just taking about $2,000 and two weeks more than the contract stipulated. I found out that the largest reason for this was that the contractor was taking courses at a Community College to hone and make official his commercial contracting skills. He said that he wasn’t doing well in the residential market and was hoping for a steady paycheck from a large commercial builder.”
Ian: “So let me take wild guess. He got his wishes and you got the contractors from hell.”
Gerald: “Yes, exactly. Sometimes you do exhibit a remarkable degree of insight. The situation was a microcosm of the capitalist economic system. One man’s loss is another’s gain.”
Ian: “That was one popular view back in the eighteenth century. But studies done since then show otherwise. For instance .......... “
Gerald: “What did Chatton say about this?”
Ian: “Chatton was dead before they invented capitalism. Well, insofar as the term was not widespread; though there was private property which was bought and sold, whether or not the King .............. “
Gerald: “You’re really not joking when you do this; are you?”
Ian: “Do what?”
Gerald: “Never mind. My wife signed the non-contract with the two guys primarily because they underbid the person I preferred. When they started to do the work, by the second day they were pointing out how certain expensive modifications would have to be made as whoever did the plumbing made errors which were not only in violation of the building code, but prevented things from going as planned unless we paid another $10,000.”
Ian: “For god’s sake, Gerald. That’s the oldest game in the world. Every time I’ve been stuck with one of those thieving contractors, I’ve heard that story. ‘Oh, look the last guy was totally incompetent. Here, I’ll show you. The whatsis is supposed to be attached to the whosis, but to get around the wheresis the guy illegally re-routed the thingy. You’re lucky you didn’t have a fire or a flood. I’m going to have to undo all that. Okay?’ If you avoid the question by asking some of your own the story expands until migraine time. They always just happen to notice these violations after they’ve knocked everything apart and have got junk all over the place. So, unless you want a major hassle and another contractor who will likely follow the identical procedure, the easiest thing to do is say; ‘Thank you for picking that out. Do what you have to do,’ as they are not very competent with sarcasm. I told one who really thought that he was slick; ‘Every contractor I’ve ever had has told me that the last one was an asshole. I believe all of you, including the one who’ll be here next.’ You should have seen his face. It was like that of a dog’s when he sees his first Purina infested with corpulent creepy-crawlies.”
Gerald: “You were still out the money.”
Ian: “Sure, I was stuck. But, I thought I might as well have a minute of fun in return.”
Gerald: “Well, my wife avoided all the potential ‘fun.’ The first time she heard this she recalled that she had to go visit her sick sister in Seattle for a few weeks. So, I got stuck.”
Ian: “What’s wrong with her sister?”
Gerald: “The same thing that’s wrong with many un-married, aging coquettes, who cannot afford twice-a-week psychiatric visits. At any rate, I no longer have full access to either bathroom, so I come here. It seems that ‘dee plommer; he no can do the weld, because ............’ Insert the interminable contradictory statement of your choice. Initially I made the mistake of pointing out the contradictions and suggested possible solutions. This of course invited a longer, interminable, contradictory statement. The net result of this is that we are not going to get what we want and were promised, at an expense of at least 40% more, and I am dependent on Midway’s toilet.”
Ian: “And I foolishly thought that you were just trying to avoid Gahoombahstritaplonkplonk.”
Gerald: “You’re getting quite good at that. Though it is an acquired taste, a fellow of your acuity can master it in less than a day.”
A sound which resembled that of a megaphone in its shrill rudeness permeated the room saying; “Closin’ time. Drink up and don’t trip on your way out.”
Ian said; “Gahoombahstritaplonkplonk.”
Closing Time
Graduate Level Toilet Training
Ian: “Er, um. Didn’t you kind of cover that while you were on your throne avoiding Donald?”
Gerald: “A provocative opening always gets attention, no?”
Ian: “My level of apprehension has been effectively intensified, but I still have a few reservations about the anticipated book.”
Gerald: “You still judge a book by its cover?”
Ian: “ .............. “
Gerald: “Ah, you are my silent, compliant prisoner. Allow me to assure you that things are not as bad as they appear.”
Ian: “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Gerald: “Puerile physicist. My toilet problems are not what you apparently assume; though the current manifestation may well be a metaphorical function of what you may be thinking. Or not. As far as I can see it is merely a matter of incompetence and deceit.”
Ian: “I am not fully convinced, but I am somewhat relieved that you didn’t say incontinence and decay. The visual images were disconcerting.”
Gerald: “I am complimented. Overnight relief is the grandest claim anyone has yet made; despite the non-enforcement of the ‘Truth in Advertising’ laws. It is petty, but not in the sense of DFW’s characterization of the entirety of TV and anti-TV. My toilet story is rather banal with no fantods explicit or implied.”
Ian: “No. No. Not less than ‘Angie Tribeca.’ The viewership can consistently decline no more.”
Gerald: “Do not ever forget that ’Less than Zero’ has been popularized through the ‘credentials’ of the Bennington Brigade. One risks the possibility of being viewed as vulgar to not recognize the relevance and genius.”
Ian: “I am embarrassed beyond comment. I implore you not to reveal this to anyone.”
Gerald: “You have my word; though I must assume that you are aware that the audio and video of everything is on the internet, regardless of preference.”
Ian: “I can only hope that it is not another case of ‘going viral’ on Fecesbook.”
Gerald: “We will soon see. My story begins with that I live in a thirty-five year old, two bedroom, two bath condo which my wife of similar duration chose to ‘update.’ She has an affinity for contemporary styling, ostensibly for the benefit of the company we do our best to avoid.”
Ian: “Moi?”
Gerald: “You’ll do until I can re-access my bathroom. You think that Sophie was a bad choice? You should see these ‘contractors.’ Since there was nothing wrong with them I had no interest in ‘updating’ our kitchen and baths. That was a mistake, as it was taken as an excuse for wifey to make her own arrangements.”
Ian: “Are you suggesting that you should have shown interest when there was none? I’m shocked at the thought.”
Gerald: “You still haven’t learned. If you had feigned interest in Sophie when you first met you wouldn’t have had all the guilt problems later. Same idea. Wifey wanted to be ‘professional’ about it, so she looked it up on the internet, solicited five bids and agreed to the lowest one after checking Better Business Bureau complaints. The net result of her ‘professionalism’ was to hire two idiots who have had no on-line complaints because the extent of their prior re-modeling experience was to mow Douglaston lawns and plant rock gardens.”
Ian: “Planting a rock garden is not the easiest thing to do. In fact Orientals have made this into an art form through ......... “
Gerald: “Shut up, Ian.”
Ian: “No one has dared to say that to me since ........ “
Gerald: “If you say one more word I’ll punch you.”
Ian: “...... “
Gerald: “Good man. First I should say that the kitchen remodeling was done by someone else. It turned out as expected; just taking about $2,000 and two weeks more than the contract stipulated. I found out that the largest reason for this was that the contractor was taking courses at a Community College to hone and make official his commercial contracting skills. He said that he wasn’t doing well in the residential market and was hoping for a steady paycheck from a large commercial builder.”
Ian: “So let me take wild guess. He got his wishes and you got the contractors from hell.”
Gerald: “Yes, exactly. Sometimes you do exhibit a remarkable degree of insight. The situation was a microcosm of the capitalist economic system. One man’s loss is another’s gain.”
Ian: “That was one popular view back in the eighteenth century. But studies done since then show otherwise. For instance .......... “
Gerald: “What did Chatton say about this?”
Ian: “Chatton was dead before they invented capitalism. Well, insofar as the term was not widespread; though there was private property which was bought and sold, whether or not the King .............. “
Gerald: “You’re really not joking when you do this; are you?”
Ian: “Do what?”
Gerald: “Never mind. My wife signed the non-contract with the two guys primarily because they underbid the person I preferred. When they started to do the work, by the second day they were pointing out how certain expensive modifications would have to be made as whoever did the plumbing made errors which were not only in violation of the building code, but prevented things from going as planned unless we paid another $10,000.”
Ian: “For god’s sake, Gerald. That’s the oldest game in the world. Every time I’ve been stuck with one of those thieving contractors, I’ve heard that story. ‘Oh, look the last guy was totally incompetent. Here, I’ll show you. The whatsis is supposed to be attached to the whosis, but to get around the wheresis the guy illegally re-routed the thingy. You’re lucky you didn’t have a fire or a flood. I’m going to have to undo all that. Okay?’ If you avoid the question by asking some of your own the story expands until migraine time. They always just happen to notice these violations after they’ve knocked everything apart and have got junk all over the place. So, unless you want a major hassle and another contractor who will likely follow the identical procedure, the easiest thing to do is say; ‘Thank you for picking that out. Do what you have to do,’ as they are not very competent with sarcasm. I told one who really thought that he was slick; ‘Every contractor I’ve ever had has told me that the last one was an asshole. I believe all of you, including the one who’ll be here next.’ You should have seen his face. It was like that of a dog’s when he sees his first Purina infested with corpulent creepy-crawlies.”
Gerald: “You were still out the money.”
Ian: “Sure, I was stuck. But, I thought I might as well have a minute of fun in return.”
Gerald: “Well, my wife avoided all the potential ‘fun.’ The first time she heard this she recalled that she had to go visit her sick sister in Seattle for a few weeks. So, I got stuck.”
Ian: “What’s wrong with her sister?”
Gerald: “The same thing that’s wrong with many un-married, aging coquettes, who cannot afford twice-a-week psychiatric visits. At any rate, I no longer have full access to either bathroom, so I come here. It seems that ‘dee plommer; he no can do the weld, because ............’ Insert the interminable contradictory statement of your choice. Initially I made the mistake of pointing out the contradictions and suggested possible solutions. This of course invited a longer, interminable, contradictory statement. The net result of this is that we are not going to get what we want and were promised, at an expense of at least 40% more, and I am dependent on Midway’s toilet.”
Ian: “And I foolishly thought that you were just trying to avoid Gahoombahstritaplonkplonk.”
Gerald: “You’re getting quite good at that. Though it is an acquired taste, a fellow of your acuity can master it in less than a day.”
A sound which resembled that of a megaphone in its shrill rudeness permeated the room saying; “Closin’ time. Drink up and don’t trip on your way out.”
Ian said; “Gahoombahstritaplonkplonk.”
Closing Time
My good friends and I shall not spend this morning deprived of music. This contains the best free advice you'll ever get. But, you have to be patient and wait for the end.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLIpp...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TLIpp...
Arthur wrote; "Man, all I gotta do is wind you up and let you go!"
That's what my wife says too. ............................ Not that there's anything wrong with you saying it, too, of course ........................
This may be off topic; but you did say that you live about a thousand miles away from me; right? Just askin'.
That's what my wife says too. ............................ Not that there's anything wrong with you saying it, too, of course ........................
This may be off topic; but you did say that you live about a thousand miles away from me; right? Just askin'.
CoolieC wrote: "This may be off topic; but you did say that you live about a thousand miles away from me; right? Just askin'."I guess nothing's off-topic by this point... I live in the city of Salt Lake, UT, or "SL,UT" as depicted on some of our local novelty t-shirts. As far as I know, you just live under a bridge somewhere, so do the math CoolieC!
Gee. Um, yeah. I thought my preferred living accommodations was well understood in general. To know the specific bridge may be problematic as I occasionally move. The CIA doesn't want me to be any more precise.
Oh yeah, Arthur. You may not understand that unlike Utah, we actually have numerous bodies of water here with their attendant bridges. But thanks for your interest anyway.
Oh yeah, Arthur. You may not understand that unlike Utah, we actually have numerous bodies of water here with their attendant bridges. But thanks for your interest anyway.
THE COOLIEC ECLECTIC AND INCONSISTENTLY POSTED REVIEW
In an effort to bring my many fans new and exciting literary evaluations and items of celebrity interest, I bring you another something totally cutting edge.
WHO AM I?
What's it to ya?
PODCAST
The pods are only one-third formed and are in no mood for casting.
UPCOMING PUBLICATIONS
There are a shitload of "new" books coming out every week. Some estimate 25,000 counting those 20 page "poetry" efforts.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE
Ask Arthur Graham. He knows everything.
RECOMMENDATIONS
Healthwise, it is not advisable to eat the yellow snow. Sucking it is associated with vim, vigor, vitality, and a clear complexion; until the scientists once more change their minds.
INFLUENCES
There is no contraband here; and certainly not in my car.
I WENT BALD
This is merely a vicious rumor circulated by my enemies. My nose hair alone can cover my head.
UNTIL NEXT TIME
Get plenty of sleep. It makes the miserable day shorter.
NOTE: Similarities to anyone living, dead, or otherwise deformed are purely coincidental. And if you think that you might pick up a few bucks by suing me over it; you're even dumber than you look; as your chance of getting money out of me is even less than your chance of passing a GED.
In an effort to bring my many fans new and exciting literary evaluations and items of celebrity interest, I bring you another something totally cutting edge.
WHO AM I?
What's it to ya?
PODCAST
The pods are only one-third formed and are in no mood for casting.
UPCOMING PUBLICATIONS
There are a shitload of "new" books coming out every week. Some estimate 25,000 counting those 20 page "poetry" efforts.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE
Ask Arthur Graham. He knows everything.
RECOMMENDATIONS
Healthwise, it is not advisable to eat the yellow snow. Sucking it is associated with vim, vigor, vitality, and a clear complexion; until the scientists once more change their minds.
INFLUENCES
There is no contraband here; and certainly not in my car.
I WENT BALD
This is merely a vicious rumor circulated by my enemies. My nose hair alone can cover my head.
UNTIL NEXT TIME
Get plenty of sleep. It makes the miserable day shorter.
NOTE: Similarities to anyone living, dead, or otherwise deformed are purely coincidental. And if you think that you might pick up a few bucks by suing me over it; you're even dumber than you look; as your chance of getting money out of me is even less than your chance of passing a GED.
CoolieC wrote: "IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MOREAsk Arthur Graham. He knows everything."
If I know everything, then how come I'm not the one posting dozens of educational comments each day?
Arthur queried; "If I know everything, then how come I'm not the one posting dozens of educational comments each day?"
Cause you're smart enough not to spend hours on such schizz without getting paid.
Cause you're smart enough not to spend hours on such schizz without getting paid.
POLITICS. Take the fingers out of your throat. It's not another long-ass speech. Just a two minute deference to the concerned intelligencia who might think us "Arts and Entertainment" people stupidly frivolous. Here's the shit.
The people really should reconsider the possibility of a monarchy. Lots of people will want to be king, and one of them will be that. It will clearly be his job to figure things out. One problem with democracy is that it's hard to tell whose fault the mess is. Fingers from both hands point in other directions and the press is too damn stupid to ask a follow-up question; never mind two. We have "serious" politicos still blaming Bill Clinton for the economic condition of the US. Personally, I'd blame Alexander Hamilton, but no one knows history anymore.
But, getting back to today, the King either fixes things up the way we'd like or we kill him and get another King. After 5-6 dead Kings, the next one might take his job seriously.
Whut? Whut?
The people really should reconsider the possibility of a monarchy. Lots of people will want to be king, and one of them will be that. It will clearly be his job to figure things out. One problem with democracy is that it's hard to tell whose fault the mess is. Fingers from both hands point in other directions and the press is too damn stupid to ask a follow-up question; never mind two. We have "serious" politicos still blaming Bill Clinton for the economic condition of the US. Personally, I'd blame Alexander Hamilton, but no one knows history anymore.
But, getting back to today, the King either fixes things up the way we'd like or we kill him and get another King. After 5-6 dead Kings, the next one might take his job seriously.
Whut? Whut?
For our continued musical entertainment I bring you something straight from "KSHE Classic Really Cool Stuff Shop." No, I didn't make that up. This business actually named themselves that.
Sounds like it's about a King; but I have some reservations about that being the real news.
"The rusted chains of prison moons
are shattered by the sun."
I do like it, while also realizing that it probably won't make it to HST.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHJ7A...
Sounds like it's about a King; but I have some reservations about that being the real news.
"The rusted chains of prison moons
are shattered by the sun."
I do like it, while also realizing that it probably won't make it to HST.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHJ7A...
FREE
I must have seen this word 100 times today. For a second I thought I was back in the sixties.
The virtue of being free. Free? My ass. Philosophically based discussions are inconclusive. And anyway if I write them down, you'll all say you knew that already. So, if interested, ask Janis Joplin or Charlie Manson about it.
Free? My ass. I don't want to go through all the drama brought by a "free" woman. Nine times out of ten you have to sit through all their issues, try to figure what kind of crap she wants to hear, and try to get her to quit blubbering before the cows come home. Or you get one of those divorcees who goes to New Age meetings and explores the esoteric, spiritual side of life. Free? My ass. Or one of the unused ones who wonders if that thing will fit in there; and hasn't got the slighteast idea how it gets there. Or you get the free one everyone else gets and wind up with a mufugger of an STD which could well have extincted the dinosaurs. I could go on, but I've already brought back enough bad memories for Palhiniuk to choke on. Give me an experienced pro every time. Lady knows what shes doing, how to take care of herself, and takes a Jackson.
Free? My ass. I was finally totally fed up when I chanced upon the blog of one of those inferior writers on Booklikes. This guy announced the "free" giveaway of all his e-books; as if he had some kind of choice in the matter. Five sales in three years and he had the nerve to allude to his virtuousness. Then he gave a thank you speech, with a longer list of thankees than Robert Redford at a lifetime achievement award. I pushed the button when he started to get into his mama.
Free? My ass. On any given day there are over 1,000,000 books available on the web at no charge. Most readers already have 800 e-books and 100 hard copies they might get to sometime in the next 10 years. Thank you for another free book, kind hearted person.
Free? My ass. You get what you pay for; no more, no less. And the next time you download a "free" book make damn sure that you run your virus scan, malware protector, and adware protector over it first, or you might have signed up for a prepaid cremation service, and they aren't cheap.
I'd like to point out that my temporary free giveaway of best-sellers is being handled by most reputable Amazon and you can click here to get there; amazon//crumbum/ hideous/ flatulent/ incompetence. com.
Free? Arthur's ass.
I must have seen this word 100 times today. For a second I thought I was back in the sixties.
The virtue of being free. Free? My ass. Philosophically based discussions are inconclusive. And anyway if I write them down, you'll all say you knew that already. So, if interested, ask Janis Joplin or Charlie Manson about it.
Free? My ass. I don't want to go through all the drama brought by a "free" woman. Nine times out of ten you have to sit through all their issues, try to figure what kind of crap she wants to hear, and try to get her to quit blubbering before the cows come home. Or you get one of those divorcees who goes to New Age meetings and explores the esoteric, spiritual side of life. Free? My ass. Or one of the unused ones who wonders if that thing will fit in there; and hasn't got the slighteast idea how it gets there. Or you get the free one everyone else gets and wind up with a mufugger of an STD which could well have extincted the dinosaurs. I could go on, but I've already brought back enough bad memories for Palhiniuk to choke on. Give me an experienced pro every time. Lady knows what shes doing, how to take care of herself, and takes a Jackson.
Free? My ass. I was finally totally fed up when I chanced upon the blog of one of those inferior writers on Booklikes. This guy announced the "free" giveaway of all his e-books; as if he had some kind of choice in the matter. Five sales in three years and he had the nerve to allude to his virtuousness. Then he gave a thank you speech, with a longer list of thankees than Robert Redford at a lifetime achievement award. I pushed the button when he started to get into his mama.
Free? My ass. On any given day there are over 1,000,000 books available on the web at no charge. Most readers already have 800 e-books and 100 hard copies they might get to sometime in the next 10 years. Thank you for another free book, kind hearted person.
Free? My ass. You get what you pay for; no more, no less. And the next time you download a "free" book make damn sure that you run your virus scan, malware protector, and adware protector over it first, or you might have signed up for a prepaid cremation service, and they aren't cheap.
I'd like to point out that my temporary free giveaway of best-sellers is being handled by most reputable Amazon and you can click here to get there; amazon//crumbum/ hideous/ flatulent/ incompetence. com.
Free? Arthur's ass.
At this point, I think you've probably commented more words total on my blog posts, reviews, and sundry other updates than I've even written myself in five years on this website. Either way, I'm just glad I've been able to provide you with a forum through which to preserve your unending wit and wisdom, even as your myriad profiles bite the dust one by one over time. Bravo, kudos, and all that jazz my man.
Thanks, but in all honesty most of the longer ones are copied from my old shit in low selling books.
The profiles are a way to keep moving. This is from Richard Pryor, who used to pace the stage. Someone in the audience yelled out; "Why you runnin'?" Pryor said; "Why I'm runnin'? Why I'm runnin'? Fuck, man. Drunk niggers be throwin' shit."
The profiles are a way to keep moving. This is from Richard Pryor, who used to pace the stage. Someone in the audience yelled out; "Why you runnin'?" Pryor said; "Why I'm runnin'? Why I'm runnin'? Fuck, man. Drunk niggers be throwin' shit."
There has been a question circulating amongst GR writers. Initially, it didn't interest me mostly because I didn't have an answer. But, I've been trying this sociable, collegial approach in order to calm down my esteemed writing colleagues, if not the buying public. Besides, Arthur told me that if I didn't he was going to put one of those hexes on me which causes every evidence of your having been alive to vanish. I was tempted to say that has already happened, but this remaining shell of a person is no longer up to taking any risks.
The question was purportedly proposed by GR-Amazon, However, in only two days time it now exists in various derivations; which makes me suspect that it is being tailored to suit individual needs. Rather than trying to address all I am going to answer AG's version as he has clearly demonstrated his brillince, insight, and eminently good taste in post #381.
So, "What mystery in your own life could be a plot for a book?"
It's that whole virgin birth thing. I always knew that my mother was not one of those dirty girls who got involved in all that wicked stuff. Not my mom. So, when I was made aware of this type of debauchery going on, I also learned about artificial insemination, and instinctively knew that was how I got here.
The problem-mystery showed its ugly head thanks to Wikipedia. They say that artificial insemination was not invented until two years before I was born. But, I have a brother five years older than me.
So, I'm kinda like fucked up over this whole thing. And I can't even write the book, because I don't know the ending and who did it. Maybe it would require a group effort.
The question was purportedly proposed by GR-Amazon, However, in only two days time it now exists in various derivations; which makes me suspect that it is being tailored to suit individual needs. Rather than trying to address all I am going to answer AG's version as he has clearly demonstrated his brillince, insight, and eminently good taste in post #381.
So, "What mystery in your own life could be a plot for a book?"
It's that whole virgin birth thing. I always knew that my mother was not one of those dirty girls who got involved in all that wicked stuff. Not my mom. So, when I was made aware of this type of debauchery going on, I also learned about artificial insemination, and instinctively knew that was how I got here.
The problem-mystery showed its ugly head thanks to Wikipedia. They say that artificial insemination was not invented until two years before I was born. But, I have a brother five years older than me.
So, I'm kinda like fucked up over this whole thing. And I can't even write the book, because I don't know the ending and who did it. Maybe it would require a group effort.
Well, it's Friday; another WalMart day. You'll be glad to know that this time was not the horrendous experience of my last outing; though still lacking perfection.
The nice lady who I last described as something like; "the prune-faced old bat with the breathing apparatus up her nose" must be one of the five people who read this thread; as she did not offer me a "Have a nice day," either coming or going. I challenge anyone to relate an experience lower than being twice ignored by a Walmart greeter.
The rest of the trip was basically OK until I got to checkout. That parking space of mine which was rudely infiltrated by a cart return had the space next to it open. Kinda cool, maybe an improvement, as this time I didn't have to use the handicapped spot, and didn't have to walk all the way to the other side to return the cart after unloading. The woman in front of me with the hair that approximated what Elvis would look like if he lived long enough to go gray and comb it, kept looking back at me and what was in my cart. In a good mood, I was thinking like; "All right. Kinda rude by big city standards, but SOP in the boonies." But, she did it so often I eventually figured I'd get rid of her. I nodded and smiled at her which she sort of bristled and huffed at, before looking forward. Typical suburban Level 1 response, but the one I wanted. But, in the excitement of the day, I'm getting ahead of myself.
The Millennials must have found some other place to congregate, rather than in the middle of the incorrect Entrance/ Exit doors. Someone told me that the old abandoned psychiatric institutions are becoming popular with the young.
While shopping, there was this one pregnant woman who was disconcerting. As usual there weren't many customers in the facility; and I often wheel my cart around in order to not take the long way around. I imagine that I should watch what's behind me; but I never before had to. But, today this pregnant lady was there every time I did it. I mean something must be going on that nobody is telling me about, because what are the chances that someone is going to be continually picking up wine, cat food, frozen Jamaican patties, and coffee filters but no coffee at the exact same time you are? I'm not a conspiracy freak, but I'm figuring this lady is CIA with a pillow.
I search of a soul, I avoided the self check out area, and got on a line of three; all with loads of stuff. The guy running the machine was one of these gregarious, "How are you this fine day? Did you find everything all right? Would you like this in a bag?" douche lackeys of the bourgeous, with a big grin advertising tooth decay.
IDK. After the CIA surveillance it wasn't the biggest shit in the world, but I figured I'd throw him off his game a bit; just for fun. So, a little into the obligatory pleasantry yadda yadda, he asked for my ID which was sitting on the counter right in front of his fat, bald head. You see, you have to show them a drivers license or something to buy wine in a state which has people driving around with nine DUI's.
So, as I smiled and handed him the card that was right in front of his fat, bald head to begin with, I made reference to the sign they have at all the checkouts. It says something like; "We card everyone buying liquor who appears to be under the age of forty." Now, I haven't appeared to be under the age of forty, for forty years before they made that fucking sign. I pointed that out to baldy who then broke from his joviality and took me seriously, proceeding to lecture me on something I didn't pay a hell of a lot of attention to. So, I politely waited for him to end his spiel, and then pointed to the sign; saying "Well, why don't you change the stupid sign then? It's been wrong for at least the three years I've been coming to this happy place. It's not like I'm expecting super duper efficiency; but like three years seems a reasonable amount of time to get it right."
I really wanted to hear the flunky's perspective on matters; but he stopped smiling and shut up. Then, in a demonstration of his power, he made me wait about five extra seconds before pushing the button which activates the credit card machine. He advised me to take my drivers license with me. I thanked him and left; very happy to have taken the smile off the face of an obnoxious flunky. I just know that Che would have approved. Hard to believe, but that's more important to me than the forebearance of the liberal GR ersatz intelligencia brigade.
Exiting, the lady sitting there said nothing to me, as she seemed occupied with adjusting that stuff up her nose with her middle finger.
It's all good. I'm back at home talking to my friends. .................................... Hello?
The nice lady who I last described as something like; "the prune-faced old bat with the breathing apparatus up her nose" must be one of the five people who read this thread; as she did not offer me a "Have a nice day," either coming or going. I challenge anyone to relate an experience lower than being twice ignored by a Walmart greeter.
The rest of the trip was basically OK until I got to checkout. That parking space of mine which was rudely infiltrated by a cart return had the space next to it open. Kinda cool, maybe an improvement, as this time I didn't have to use the handicapped spot, and didn't have to walk all the way to the other side to return the cart after unloading. The woman in front of me with the hair that approximated what Elvis would look like if he lived long enough to go gray and comb it, kept looking back at me and what was in my cart. In a good mood, I was thinking like; "All right. Kinda rude by big city standards, but SOP in the boonies." But, she did it so often I eventually figured I'd get rid of her. I nodded and smiled at her which she sort of bristled and huffed at, before looking forward. Typical suburban Level 1 response, but the one I wanted. But, in the excitement of the day, I'm getting ahead of myself.
The Millennials must have found some other place to congregate, rather than in the middle of the incorrect Entrance/ Exit doors. Someone told me that the old abandoned psychiatric institutions are becoming popular with the young.
While shopping, there was this one pregnant woman who was disconcerting. As usual there weren't many customers in the facility; and I often wheel my cart around in order to not take the long way around. I imagine that I should watch what's behind me; but I never before had to. But, today this pregnant lady was there every time I did it. I mean something must be going on that nobody is telling me about, because what are the chances that someone is going to be continually picking up wine, cat food, frozen Jamaican patties, and coffee filters but no coffee at the exact same time you are? I'm not a conspiracy freak, but I'm figuring this lady is CIA with a pillow.
I search of a soul, I avoided the self check out area, and got on a line of three; all with loads of stuff. The guy running the machine was one of these gregarious, "How are you this fine day? Did you find everything all right? Would you like this in a bag?" douche lackeys of the bourgeous, with a big grin advertising tooth decay.
IDK. After the CIA surveillance it wasn't the biggest shit in the world, but I figured I'd throw him off his game a bit; just for fun. So, a little into the obligatory pleasantry yadda yadda, he asked for my ID which was sitting on the counter right in front of his fat, bald head. You see, you have to show them a drivers license or something to buy wine in a state which has people driving around with nine DUI's.
So, as I smiled and handed him the card that was right in front of his fat, bald head to begin with, I made reference to the sign they have at all the checkouts. It says something like; "We card everyone buying liquor who appears to be under the age of forty." Now, I haven't appeared to be under the age of forty, for forty years before they made that fucking sign. I pointed that out to baldy who then broke from his joviality and took me seriously, proceeding to lecture me on something I didn't pay a hell of a lot of attention to. So, I politely waited for him to end his spiel, and then pointed to the sign; saying "Well, why don't you change the stupid sign then? It's been wrong for at least the three years I've been coming to this happy place. It's not like I'm expecting super duper efficiency; but like three years seems a reasonable amount of time to get it right."
I really wanted to hear the flunky's perspective on matters; but he stopped smiling and shut up. Then, in a demonstration of his power, he made me wait about five extra seconds before pushing the button which activates the credit card machine. He advised me to take my drivers license with me. I thanked him and left; very happy to have taken the smile off the face of an obnoxious flunky. I just know that Che would have approved. Hard to believe, but that's more important to me than the forebearance of the liberal GR ersatz intelligencia brigade.
Exiting, the lady sitting there said nothing to me, as she seemed occupied with adjusting that stuff up her nose with her middle finger.
It's all good. I'm back at home talking to my friends. .................................... Hello?
I've been self occupied and consequently remiss. Apologies. It's getting late in the day and we've not yet heard the music.
It's not to be sad. After they stopped doing this weird stuff, they settled into Euro disco and made about 14 fortunes.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y50fj...
It's not to be sad. After they stopped doing this weird stuff, they settled into Euro disco and made about 14 fortunes.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y50fj...
We continue our Friday musical show with something much more accessible. At least in America. Think Paige was trying too hard? Didn't notice any sweat myself. Probably was the fucking cameraman.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTtGS...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTtGS...
Regarding these great mysteries of life, when one thinks about it, they inevitably find more. Under scrutiny, it seems quite silly as to why they put the zippers on the front of pants.
One might think ease of operation; but it's not really that difficult to reach around to the back and zip from there. Women have been doing that with dresses for ages. Takes a bit more time but is highly managable.
The risk-reward consideration may well have been ignored. You see, if you have a #1 type accident, it's probably not a lot of fun, but you'll easily recover after emptying out your shoe. But, a #2 type accident could well ruin your entire day. So, the proper priority is obviously to take every measure which might contribute to avoiding that disaster.
One might think ease of operation; but it's not really that difficult to reach around to the back and zip from there. Women have been doing that with dresses for ages. Takes a bit more time but is highly managable.
The risk-reward consideration may well have been ignored. You see, if you have a #1 type accident, it's probably not a lot of fun, but you'll easily recover after emptying out your shoe. But, a #2 type accident could well ruin your entire day. So, the proper priority is obviously to take every measure which might contribute to avoiding that disaster.
CoolieC wrote: "if you have a #1 type accident, it's probably not a lot of fun, but you'll easily recover after emptying out your shoe. But, a #2 type accident could well ruin your entire day. So, the proper priority is obviously to take every measure which might contribute to avoiding that disaster."You truly are a paragon of temperance and sound judgement, CoolieC. What on earth would we ever do without your wise admonishments?
arthur said; "You truly are a paragon of temperance and sound judgement, CoolieC. What on earth would we ever do without your wise admonishments?"
Probably poop your pants.
Probably poop your pants.
CoolieC wrote: "Probably poop your pants."Does this explain your obsession with DFW and the Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment?
That is a doctoral level of psychology not considered by yeztruly before. So, it'll take some thought; but early signs say that you have about a 90% chance of being right. Thank you for the usual fine insight. I hope I don't find out that I'm German.
My only rhetorical question is difficult to articulate. If that is indeed the case, then would it have caused some subliminal reaction in me if Ted Schact had not had the Crohn's diarrhea-constipation problem. That would seem to screw up the whole God thing rampant in the book.
As much personal respect you have from me, I must ask if you think Leyner ever covered this depth of shit?
My only rhetorical question is difficult to articulate. If that is indeed the case, then would it have caused some subliminal reaction in me if Ted Schact had not had the Crohn's diarrhea-constipation problem. That would seem to screw up the whole God thing rampant in the book.
As much personal respect you have from me, I must ask if you think Leyner ever covered this depth of shit?
In our continued effort to bring our viewers cutting edge trends we have urled this educational video rather than an old sing-along song.
DFW led the way 21 years ago, and now the trend is finally clear. And it took a Millennial to do it. Of course she's a Millennial from India where education continues to be valued; but still it's the best thing any of them have done.
Since the format is a bit of a lecture, perhaps one of our home grown mavens will enter the game and say that zi did it first.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bfSx...
DFW led the way 21 years ago, and now the trend is finally clear. And it took a Millennial to do it. Of course she's a Millennial from India where education continues to be valued; but still it's the best thing any of them have done.
Since the format is a bit of a lecture, perhaps one of our home grown mavens will enter the game and say that zi did it first.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bfSx...
Arthur; I think that if we shy away from the heavy, meaningful posts and just do some throw away one-liners this thread may well wind up on some GR list. I mean like, big deal and all that; but if its on one of those lists like top reviewers (however the hell they figure that) we'll get a lot of rookies to tune in.
At 1,700 meanngful views we're closing in on another which had a huge head start (not in school) and is now at 3,100 short dullards.
Is thinking like that too competitive for the world of literature?
At 1,700 meanngful views we're closing in on another which had a huge head start (not in school) and is now at 3,100 short dullards.
Is thinking like that too competitive for the world of literature?
Anyway; this would be the idea.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ef2gG...