Complaint Department discussion
Games
>
The Story That Ends & Begins Again (no word limit)
Tracy Cox by name, Tracy Cox by nature, indeed a veritable force of nature, was long suspected of being the real name behind that venerable Greek godling of early chick lit, Homererotic. Many have argued that Homererotic wasn't a real person (a bit like Jesus) but an amalgamation of several writing talents ranging from Ganny the Mede – a Persian by any other name – to Strap-on, the Roman geographer. Herodickus was another contender but it has been impraxitiles to pin the works on him alone.In any case, the Trojans lost the game and sent Oddy See Us off on his voyages, a journey that wpuld last a lifetime and launch a thousand Roland Emmerich movies.
You damned Catholic strumpet. I fart in your general direction you French fry. God save the Queens! The Bronx! and Brooklyn too!If we all lived by the words of Hey Zeus who was like totally into love (and never said anything about Queens, the Bronx or Brooklyn) and we all ignored all the rest Zoos never expressed to anyone, we could have a lot of fun fooling around in our lacy undies.
As Robert Graves explored in his book Wife to Mr. Milton: The Story of Marie Powell there are many myths and legends and examining them shows how wrong people, especially Milton Berle's fundamentalized Christians who now believe Sir Donald Trump is the true Messiah and is using his hate speech and bigotry to lead a new generation of children to be voters who proudly wear their brown shirts and hail him by his rightful title, Miss America and Der Führer Who Tickles My Nostril With His Manly Toe Perfume.
So stop wiggly your ass and show your dancing donkey instead.
Edit that Tracy Cox!
Totally abashed, flung bodily into the void of lexiconographic indolence, Tracy Cox fled from The Wrath of Seth in complete disarray, vowing never again to put pen to paper (though she did not throw away her Pentium Quadcore Mac laptop).That sweet German angel Merekel is the true Gravesian Messiah, opening wide her arms, crying out:
"Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall I stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and my name
Mother of Exiles. From my beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
She cares not the criterion
As long as they're all Syrian.
"Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,"
and I shall build a wall across the border so,
back to your third world country go go go!
That statuesque lady bearing a welcome is just a wench,
sent to America by the French,
It's made of metal so we can't burn it.
And the postage is too much to return it.
I'm the Ugly American: I kick you bastards in the rump,
or my name isn't Donald The Chump Trump.
My, my, there isn't a lot to say to that other than…I must to the recycling centre go…
politicians who carve out
and craven voters crave...
I'm not in the 5-word game.
There are no rules that say
say for each turn all your words
Wes Craven is in the process of being recycled. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, love is any man that you can trust. Booo! said Wes.
Freddy Kruger had a nightmare
Wes Craven has become synonymous with genre bending and innovative horror, challenging audiences with his bold vision.Wesley Earl Craven was born in Cleveland, Ohio, to Caroline (Miller) and Paul Eugene Craven. He had a midwestern suburban upbringing. His first feature film was The Last House on the Left (1972), which he wrote, directed, and edited. Craven reinvented the youth horror genre again in 1984 with the classic A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984),
1984! Wes had an Orwellian moment. He decided in death he would start an Animal Farm.
"When pigs fly!" said Freddy Kruger and grabbed Wes Craven in his atrocious arms and kissed him with his miserable lips. Was was craven and ran away in fright.
Is "genre bonding," as you mention above, anything like male bonding? Are emotions the super-glue of love? Was Descartes an existentialist or what! Whoo-hoo, you bet he was, the minute he couldn't see you, you didn't exist… so not a lot of bonding there. Even houses need a good bonding – I don't mean to be a gusher, but look what happened to the House of Usher (as against Usher House, where much pottery bonding went on).
The barkeep asks,,"Care for a drink?"
Descartes says, "I think not!" then he disappears.
Haha – those mathematical philosophers have a lot to answer for: Jean-Paul-Charles-Aymard Sartre for one, Simone de Beavoir for another, and what about Sam Becket — Waiting for Godot was bit like waiting for Godard (though I must confess to a sneaking liking for Pierrot le Fou and Weekend)… and Jean-Paul Belmondo, the only man who could flick a burning Gitane from one corner of his mouth to the other while spouting existentialist nonsense.
Belmondo was a boxer and a fighter by his trade. He maybe wanted to sound smart. Oh so French! Try Michel Foucault. He is not so mathematical. You and I have a different opinion about existential philosophy. Only in as much that I was taught mathematical was Cartesian. (deCartesian) if it is an objective fact... yes! We all agree. Existentialism is more subjective. Emotional feeling and perceiving. No one can be defined anymore by laws of physics! The existentialist experience is self-defined. Is the thread changing towards post-modern philosophy?
Exeunt Sonja. ( apologies if thread hijacked temporarily. Me thinks, a music youtube, mixcloud whatever sonic mix loops in mind would be a place for my expression to go. So Foucault the expressions of power. Also, philosophy thread would be nice. ) I'm no writer. I'm just a painter waiting on the morning light.)
The high-jackers say "Hi" to Jack and then commandeer the plane to Cuba. Raul Castro is at the airport welcoming Barack Obama on the first US presidential visit to the island in 88 years when Warren Harding the 29th President stopped by. Harding had a child by his mistress of twenty years but that rascal was a horny world leader so he got another mistress closer to home. Harding's presidency was marked by corruption and scandal which I suppose wasn't related to President Harding dying while in office on a trip to California.
Raul and Barak decided not to go to California because Obama is running for President of Cuba with Raul Castro as Vice President.
The hijackers changed their minds and returned to the US, crash landing at Warren Harding's grave in Marion, Ohio. The sole survivor was Jack. Jack was lonely. There was no one left to say "Hi Jack".
No? What about Richard Nixon, I bet he had the chance to say, "Hi Jack."(That was just before he said, "Gotta go, Hereford [or Hennford, as the Welsh call it] beckons……")
Richard and Edward Rainbow from A Life Apart visited Roger Kean and Zack aka Oliver Frey in their West Midlands fancy schmancy castle on a hill. As a present Edward and Richard left the camels they rode in on and took a cab home to North Africa. So when Roger once again could not get the battery to turn over in his car he was forced to use the camels to take Oli to Hereford Hospital for his annual check up. Oli, born in Switzerland was of course used to riding camels on the steep Swiss mountains but Roger having grown up on the tarmac at the Lagos airport couldn't ride anything but airplanes.
Nevertheless Oli threw Roger up on the camel's saddle and took off apace to Hereford.
Unfortunately…
…they encountered a fierce sandstorm somewhere between Hope Under Dinmore and Canon Pyon.
GAARRRGH!!!
exclaimS Oli – who always speaks in bold-italic-capital because he's a comic-strip artist and letterer –
WHAT IN TARNATION DO WE DO!!!?
he shouted through the thickening air.Roger, clinging desperately to Oli's broad back, yells in his ear, "Make for the split-level Dinmore rail tunnel and hope there is disruption on the Arriva Wales line so the 9:06 scheduled to depart Ludlow then will only depart twenty minutes later and we can shelter in its moist, dark reaches until this dreadful sandstorm abates."
I DIDN'T CATCH THAT!!! — CAN YOU SAY IT AGAIN????
Roger sighs but it's lost on the howling desert storm. ""Make for the split-level Dinmore rail tunnel and hope there is disruption on the Arriva Wales line so the………"
But brave resourceful Oli decideS against whatever it was Roger was trying to tell him and instead turns the camel's head to make a dash for the split-level Dinmore rail tunnel, where he hopes to take shelter until the dreadful Herefordshire desert sandstorm abates.
Little did our intrepid hospital heroes know, but there was in fact no disruption to the Arriva Wales rail service and the 9:06 from Ludlow was dead on time…
OH NO!! —— AAAARRRGGGGGH!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Swiss lad gets hit by the train head on and becomes more flat than Wily Coyote when the Roadrunner drop[s a safe on him. Suddenly he pops up from being as flat as paper to his normal self because in cartoons this happens when you speak in all caps in italics.Roger however is transported to an alternate universe where he is stuck inside the Complaint Department writing inane nonsense in The Story That Ends & Begins Again.
"I wish I could do that." The postman said.
"Do what? " the neighborhood dogs barked in unison.
"I wish I could talk to the animals." The postman said again to himself.
The neighborhood dogs were very fond of the postman.
However they understood his thoughts before he said them.
These dogs were average, rather dull.
"We hear you." The dogs barked in unison.
Each doggie wagged its tail in anticipation.
The mail slipped through the shiny metal slot.
The postman did it every day but a handful of the year.
The dogs liked reliability.
This postman is very fetching. They thought.
The dogs liked him even better than other delivery men
Because he kept bone shaped biscuits in his pockets.
The postman smelled of cardboard boxes and new ink.
The mail parcels fell in time to the beat of the day.
The empty houses all awaiting to be filled again with the dogs' humans. Whom all had left for the car to go on a ride.
"Do what? " the neighborhood dogs barked in unison.
"I wish I could talk to the animals." The postman said again to himself.
The neighborhood dogs were very fond of the postman.
However they understood his thoughts before he said them.
These dogs were average, rather dull.
"We hear you." The dogs barked in unison.
Each doggie wagged its tail in anticipation.
The mail slipped through the shiny metal slot.
The postman did it every day but a handful of the year.
The dogs liked reliability.
This postman is very fetching. They thought.
The dogs liked him even better than other delivery men
Because he kept bone shaped biscuits in his pockets.
The postman smelled of cardboard boxes and new ink.
The mail parcels fell in time to the beat of the day.
The empty houses all awaiting to be filled again with the dogs' humans. Whom all had left for the car to go on a ride.
2 of 20
Among the neighborhood four dogs knew each other from doggie daycare. Grendel, the German Shepherd, Gimlet the Poodle, Charlie the Beagle and Sonny the mutt.
Grendel arrived first each day her humans went to take a ride. The first thing she did when she arrived was give the daycare staff a happy smile and curious tail wag. Grendel wondered where the freeze dried liver treats were hidden. She used her ears and nose and eyes to pose her most gently pathetic plea. However a long flow of saliva oozed slowly out of her muzzle giving her intentions away.
The staff each gave her a happy hello and let her out to the playground. The staff were busy opening for the day. Grendel sighed a bit. She wondered if Gimlet would arrive before Sonny.
Charley arrived last as a rule.
Grendel sniffed the perimeter of the playground. Hoping to catch the sent of the squirrels that lived in the trees behind the day care.
She stood still suddenly. She heard the axel turn of Gimlet's ride. She wagged her tail at the imminent arrival of her friend.
"Hi Grendel!" The black poodle bowed. "Geez, you're here bright and early! I still think I'm sleeping. See?"
Gimlet the Poodle dropped to her belly, rolled over and began to move her back legs, as if running or to scratch an invisible itch.
"Very Convincing." Grendel said.
"Really? Do you mean it?" Gimlet rolled in the dirt and bounced up to meet noses with the Shepherd.
Grendel said, "What is it you're always telling me?"
"Use your noodle get a poodle." Gimlet chirped playfully.
Grendel sighed again. "Some of us have to work for a living." Grendel said. She trotted off to her human friend who had just begun morning activities.
"What's up her hackles," Gimlet thought. But just as easily as it had come into her curly head, the thought escaped again as she saw both Sonny and Charlie running full tilt into the yard.
Among the neighborhood four dogs knew each other from doggie daycare. Grendel, the German Shepherd, Gimlet the Poodle, Charlie the Beagle and Sonny the mutt.
Grendel arrived first each day her humans went to take a ride. The first thing she did when she arrived was give the daycare staff a happy smile and curious tail wag. Grendel wondered where the freeze dried liver treats were hidden. She used her ears and nose and eyes to pose her most gently pathetic plea. However a long flow of saliva oozed slowly out of her muzzle giving her intentions away.
The staff each gave her a happy hello and let her out to the playground. The staff were busy opening for the day. Grendel sighed a bit. She wondered if Gimlet would arrive before Sonny.
Charley arrived last as a rule.
Grendel sniffed the perimeter of the playground. Hoping to catch the sent of the squirrels that lived in the trees behind the day care.
She stood still suddenly. She heard the axel turn of Gimlet's ride. She wagged her tail at the imminent arrival of her friend.
"Hi Grendel!" The black poodle bowed. "Geez, you're here bright and early! I still think I'm sleeping. See?"
Gimlet the Poodle dropped to her belly, rolled over and began to move her back legs, as if running or to scratch an invisible itch.
"Very Convincing." Grendel said.
"Really? Do you mean it?" Gimlet rolled in the dirt and bounced up to meet noses with the Shepherd.
Grendel said, "What is it you're always telling me?"
"Use your noodle get a poodle." Gimlet chirped playfully.
Grendel sighed again. "Some of us have to work for a living." Grendel said. She trotted off to her human friend who had just begun morning activities.
"What's up her hackles," Gimlet thought. But just as easily as it had come into her curly head, the thought escaped again as she saw both Sonny and Charlie running full tilt into the yard.
3 of 20
"You're never going to believe it, Gimlet!" Charlie the Beagle said.
"Wait til you hear it!" Sonny the Mutt said.
"Hi boys!" Gimlet was surprised to see Charlie arrive before flyball at 10:30am. His human brought Charlie to doggie daycare late, as a rule.
Gimlet let the boys circle her with wagging tails. She liked short boys. They liked to give her withers a lick.
The boys knew by now not to raise paws to her. Even on two legs neither were as tall as her muzzle. The first time Charlie tried it. Gimlet let fall her lamb-sheared right paw thereby dusting Charlie with one stroke.
Charlie bounced from back to paws.
"Oh how very, feline." Gimlet had said.
On first impression, Gimlet thought Charlie the Beagle was afflicted with hyper-activity. Sonny however pleased her intelligent nature. He never failed to surprise her. Gimlet always caught a scent or two in hopes of identifying his melange of breeding.
Today, however, Charlie the Beagle had news.
"A new human has moved into my house! And he's small like me!
And he smells like powdered milk! He speaks funny but oh how I love him so!!"
"Must you speak with exclamations?" Gimlet said.
"Now why don't you sniff us up that rawhide banana our doggy nanny has hidden today?"
"Gimlet, you're no fun today. What's wrong with you?" Sonny the mutt asked his peaked ears turned and perked hoping to cheer Gimlet.
Gimlet was the smartest dog in the pack yet prone to melancholy when ignored.
Gimlet yawned. "Ask Grendel. She wouldn't take my joke this morning. Ask her. I'm going to practice the ramps at the agility station." Gimlet walked away her simple shaven curls double glinting in the 9am sun.
"Wait!" Sonny barked. "Make sure you stretch first. Here I'll come give you a spot." Sonny skipped along double time to catch up with his melancholy poodle.
Charlie upon hearing the word "banana" quickly set nose to task taking in the wide playground in zigzag sweeps.
Where Grendel preferred to sniff upon a grid. Charlie was the opposite.
Charlie didn't mind Gimlet. She hosted poker night. Also she could read. She had begun teaching Sonny. Grendel never really bragged about being able to read or not. She tended to only talk about work and her humans. Actually she called her humans her family. That surprised Charlie each time he heard it. Her "family". He kept to his zig zag sweep of the banana , the news of the new human Seemingly forgtten.
"Banana, banana, banana" Charlie chanted to himself. He hoped it wasn't the rawhide sort. Gimlet and Grendel always had first dibs. His friend at home, Sherman, the tuxedo cat, said they were talking advantage of him. But Charlie didn't want to believe that. He hoped for the banana made of tough rubber and full of treats. The Charlie got a chance opportunity to eat a tad more than his share.
"You smell like babies" Grendel said smiling to him.
Charlie had never seen Grendel so friendly.
"What's a baby?" Charlie said.
Grendel was patient with Charlie.
"It means a little human has moved in. You have a family now, Charlie. Congratulations!!"
Grendel landed her kisses on Charlie.
Her tounge nearly as large as his ears.
"Oh." Charlie said. "Only one more kiss, Grendel, please I had a bath
a week ago."
Grendel laughed. " I thought your cat bathed you every night."
Charlie set his ears back in a knowing blush.
"Do I really smell like... like... what is it?"
"Baby" Grendel said.
"Baby" Charlie repeated.
Charlie thought these pointy ear dogs were an odd lot.
They gave him flack about his cat friend. Charlie and Sherman were litter mates. Charlie's mom adopted the kitten when his humans, ahem, his "family" took the kitten in to foster.
Charlie wasn't sure about this family idea. He worried a little. He'd ask Sherman about it when he returned home. Sherman could be as smart as Gimlet. Afterall the cat knew how to open doors.
"You're never going to believe it, Gimlet!" Charlie the Beagle said.
"Wait til you hear it!" Sonny the Mutt said.
"Hi boys!" Gimlet was surprised to see Charlie arrive before flyball at 10:30am. His human brought Charlie to doggie daycare late, as a rule.
Gimlet let the boys circle her with wagging tails. She liked short boys. They liked to give her withers a lick.
The boys knew by now not to raise paws to her. Even on two legs neither were as tall as her muzzle. The first time Charlie tried it. Gimlet let fall her lamb-sheared right paw thereby dusting Charlie with one stroke.
Charlie bounced from back to paws.
"Oh how very, feline." Gimlet had said.
On first impression, Gimlet thought Charlie the Beagle was afflicted with hyper-activity. Sonny however pleased her intelligent nature. He never failed to surprise her. Gimlet always caught a scent or two in hopes of identifying his melange of breeding.
Today, however, Charlie the Beagle had news.
"A new human has moved into my house! And he's small like me!
And he smells like powdered milk! He speaks funny but oh how I love him so!!"
"Must you speak with exclamations?" Gimlet said.
"Now why don't you sniff us up that rawhide banana our doggy nanny has hidden today?"
"Gimlet, you're no fun today. What's wrong with you?" Sonny the mutt asked his peaked ears turned and perked hoping to cheer Gimlet.
Gimlet was the smartest dog in the pack yet prone to melancholy when ignored.
Gimlet yawned. "Ask Grendel. She wouldn't take my joke this morning. Ask her. I'm going to practice the ramps at the agility station." Gimlet walked away her simple shaven curls double glinting in the 9am sun.
"Wait!" Sonny barked. "Make sure you stretch first. Here I'll come give you a spot." Sonny skipped along double time to catch up with his melancholy poodle.
Charlie upon hearing the word "banana" quickly set nose to task taking in the wide playground in zigzag sweeps.
Where Grendel preferred to sniff upon a grid. Charlie was the opposite.
Charlie didn't mind Gimlet. She hosted poker night. Also she could read. She had begun teaching Sonny. Grendel never really bragged about being able to read or not. She tended to only talk about work and her humans. Actually she called her humans her family. That surprised Charlie each time he heard it. Her "family". He kept to his zig zag sweep of the banana , the news of the new human Seemingly forgtten.
"Banana, banana, banana" Charlie chanted to himself. He hoped it wasn't the rawhide sort. Gimlet and Grendel always had first dibs. His friend at home, Sherman, the tuxedo cat, said they were talking advantage of him. But Charlie didn't want to believe that. He hoped for the banana made of tough rubber and full of treats. The Charlie got a chance opportunity to eat a tad more than his share.
"You smell like babies" Grendel said smiling to him.
Charlie had never seen Grendel so friendly.
"What's a baby?" Charlie said.
Grendel was patient with Charlie.
"It means a little human has moved in. You have a family now, Charlie. Congratulations!!"
Grendel landed her kisses on Charlie.
Her tounge nearly as large as his ears.
"Oh." Charlie said. "Only one more kiss, Grendel, please I had a bath
a week ago."
Grendel laughed. " I thought your cat bathed you every night."
Charlie set his ears back in a knowing blush.
"Do I really smell like... like... what is it?"
"Baby" Grendel said.
"Baby" Charlie repeated.
Charlie thought these pointy ear dogs were an odd lot.
They gave him flack about his cat friend. Charlie and Sherman were litter mates. Charlie's mom adopted the kitten when his humans, ahem, his "family" took the kitten in to foster.
Charlie wasn't sure about this family idea. He worried a little. He'd ask Sherman about it when he returned home. Sherman could be as smart as Gimlet. Afterall the cat knew how to open doors.
4 of 20
Later that night on their fleece cot Charlie the Beagle dreamt about bananas that smelled of winter foxes. Sherman the cat slept curled within Charlie's warm body. Sherman was a light sleeper. The two had been sequestered to the first floor kitchen. A white gate placed temporarily to bar access to the hallway and the rest of the house.
There was a large doggie door set into a wooden door. It was painted green and led to the side entrance, a garden patio encircled with red brick and topiary.
The door was too heavy for Sherman to push open. If Charlie needed to relieve himself, he'd push open the door and Sherman would scamper out for the dawn.
Charlie the Beagle and Sherman the Tuxedo Cat would follow a hidden path behind the rhododendron past the muddy path behind the garage, where he found an opening to a meadow. For beagle and cat standards it was a meadow albeit fenced off in the repeating brick mosaics of the side garden.
But it wasn't time for the hour before sunrise. Charlie the Beagle whimpered in his sleep. The natural gas furnace turned on with a click, click, click. Sherman yawned and gave Charlie a few licks to soothe his dreaming. The tuxedo cat sat nested in deep contemplation. Charlie rolled onto his back as his dream switched paths.
Later that night on their fleece cot Charlie the Beagle dreamt about bananas that smelled of winter foxes. Sherman the cat slept curled within Charlie's warm body. Sherman was a light sleeper. The two had been sequestered to the first floor kitchen. A white gate placed temporarily to bar access to the hallway and the rest of the house.
There was a large doggie door set into a wooden door. It was painted green and led to the side entrance, a garden patio encircled with red brick and topiary.
The door was too heavy for Sherman to push open. If Charlie needed to relieve himself, he'd push open the door and Sherman would scamper out for the dawn.
Charlie the Beagle and Sherman the Tuxedo Cat would follow a hidden path behind the rhododendron past the muddy path behind the garage, where he found an opening to a meadow. For beagle and cat standards it was a meadow albeit fenced off in the repeating brick mosaics of the side garden.
But it wasn't time for the hour before sunrise. Charlie the Beagle whimpered in his sleep. The natural gas furnace turned on with a click, click, click. Sherman yawned and gave Charlie a few licks to soothe his dreaming. The tuxedo cat sat nested in deep contemplation. Charlie rolled onto his back as his dream switched paths.
5 of 20
The dawn was near up. Charlie led Sherman into the side garden weaving in and around terra cotta pots and discarded tennis balls. Sherman hopped up to the brick fence following Charlie, occasionally stopping to sit and wash his face. It was a chilly morning. Sherman was fastidious about keeping the cold out and his body heat inside his fine tuxedo of fur. Noticing Charlie pass the rhodedendron, Sherman followed above on the perimeter wall his tail up and ready for the hunt.
Charlie slipped a bit. The muddy path was frosty. He hopped Sherman didn't notice or if he did he hoped Sherman wouldn't say anything. Charlie didn't want to go to doggie daycare today. He didn't want to do anything but venture into the rewards of his own territory. He liked Sherman as partner. Sherman stayed aloft wherever he could preferring to be at the highest available surface. Charlie preferred to keep his nose to ground. The two friends tred the well worn path into their large meadow.
The dawn was near up. Charlie led Sherman into the side garden weaving in and around terra cotta pots and discarded tennis balls. Sherman hopped up to the brick fence following Charlie, occasionally stopping to sit and wash his face. It was a chilly morning. Sherman was fastidious about keeping the cold out and his body heat inside his fine tuxedo of fur. Noticing Charlie pass the rhodedendron, Sherman followed above on the perimeter wall his tail up and ready for the hunt.
Charlie slipped a bit. The muddy path was frosty. He hopped Sherman didn't notice or if he did he hoped Sherman wouldn't say anything. Charlie didn't want to go to doggie daycare today. He didn't want to do anything but venture into the rewards of his own territory. He liked Sherman as partner. Sherman stayed aloft wherever he could preferring to be at the highest available surface. Charlie preferred to keep his nose to ground. The two friends tred the well worn path into their large meadow.
6 of 20
Charlie the Beagle smelled the minutes before the frost became the dew.
Charlie the Beagle smelled the minutes before the frost became the dew.
Complaint Department
Books mentioned in this topic
Lassie Come-Home (other topics)A Life Apart (other topics)
Wrath of Seth (other topics)
Wife to Mr. Milton (other topics)
The White Goddess: A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth (other topics)
More...
Authors mentioned in this topic
Zack (other topics)Roger Kean (other topics)
Oliver Frey (other topics)
James George Frazer (other topics)
Italo Calvino (other topics)
More...
Jason handed Icarus his wings and a tube of super glue and said "Here kiddo, go have some fun in the sun." which burned Icarus up because he wasn't used to such raw language becausde he never read Tracy Cox.