Seanachai

I imagine that they sounded less tacky and dim before they were translated from the original language into English, right?

I find the French add a sort of piquancy to the effluvium...

Stop angling after a hug and a kiss. Get a pet, fer God's sake!

Does anyone else worry that Snarker needs more than a bit of anti-depressant drug therapy, and some free-form counseling? Really, you lot should show more concern about 'one of your own'. When I read Snarker's posts, I'm reading 'a lot of stupidity'. Can't anyone else sense his pain?

Well, I agree with you. But I bought my 'being retired because it no longer matters' G4 because it both catapulted me into the 21st Macintosh century, and it could also still play CM. It was a dual boot machine, that would allow me to play both OS X and OS 9 games (like CM). But I found that I couldn't play CM because of issues with the ATI oem video card. This, actually, made me extremely angry. There were moments of fulminating angst, viciousness, and almost psychotic anger. I eventually had to pull my old PCI ATI card out of my previous G3 in order to play CM on my new computer. For a while, I was at a loss. Should I blame Battlefront for not being in a position to completely reprogram because Apple suddenly, and without any Developer notification, chose to stop supporting the RAVE format (which almost amounted to ceasing to support their 'proprietary' format)? Or should I blame Apple for the fecking horribly arrogant and commercially erudite move of swapping to another graphics card format? Or should I blame ATI for how their drivers for the goddamn oem Radeon card included in the G4 turned every CM game into a psychedelic nightmare? And then it struck me. I could curse God, Apple, Battlefront, and ATI...but it would be so much more satisfying to curse... Grog Dorosh. That...bastard! That absolute, useless, Labatt's drinking waste of Canadian genetic material! After I learned to curse Dorosh, life got a bit easier, a bit less stressful. Mind, I'm not sure I'll be able to continue to curse Grog Dorosh for everything that ever comes up in my life. But I'm hopeful.

I'd need to see the photographic evidence first. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Steve </font>

What the limey bugger said! I stand with flamingknives!

Oh, no. I'm sure that, even in a land as primitive as Australia, there are bizarro fetishists that share your taste for 'water sports', Mike the Wino. It can't all be just beer and bestiality. I mean, there's 'beer', for one thing, and we all know what that eventually leads to (you more than the rest of us, I'm sure). I imagine in urban areas like Sydney and Melbourne you'll find others who share your penchant for 'being bathed in liquid gold'. Still, with all your perversions, it's good to see you posting again.

Why haven't you been deported to a Commonwealth Penal Colony. That's what I'd like to know. Bet you've got a picture of the Queen right by your bed.

God hasn't been on your lot's side since Joan of Arc, and MrSpkr and Hortlund would just call her 'another angry lesbian'. What's the status of the bloody French lad? Anyone taken him as a Squire? He's shown a right good will to show up here and post endless idiocy, which I'm beginning to think passes for 'participation' with the Justicar, who was possibly a remedial school substitute teacher during his youth.

It's just his shtick. </font>

And yet, this poor soul keeps coming back to the Cheery Waffle threads! I think there is a definite love/hate relationship at work here. </font>

Don't overlook Dorosh. 'All praise to our northern brothers and Dorosh.'

Ah, Pondscum. Ready for a jolly singsong, eh? I've just the one... I was painting a still life this morning Of a throat lozenge sitting on a copy Of Tropic of Cancer The only thing weird about it Is that a year ago, I never thought I'd paint anything again I decided I wasn't ever gonna paint again It didn't bother me too much Warhol's dead, David Hockney's still alive I don't need to paint I painted over ten thousand paintings Sad ones, funny ones, dark ones, and light ones I've done haystacks And rich old ladies by their pools Wearing nothing but a scarf I've painted everything there was to paint Now it was time to sit back Give interviews Hang out at club med Get on the internet Take stock of what I've done You know, the best friend I ever had was a dog It sounds like a cliche unless it's happened to you Some days that dog was the only reason I even got out of bed That dog went everywhere with me And then I heard the crack addicts Were stealin' dogs and selling them for animal research It sounded like an urban myth to me Like the mouse in the Coke bottle But I started leavin' her at home after that You know, Paula was my wife for a while She ran off to Paris with the great grandson of Van Gogh A cartoonist who did fashion graphics for Le Monde When Paula left she took my dog I never saw her again Except in the court during the custody battle She won and got to keep the dog And I didn't speak to anyone for months You know sometimes it feels Like there's so much that you need Sometimes the world is upside down Sometimes it feels Like the only thing you need Is holdin' someone's hand as you walk through town I started hanging around with Dino He used to run a poker game back east Now he sells cappuccino to his old pals Tommy Chicago and Jimmy the Wig and Ugly Rose You know the best person I ever knew Was a Mormon woman named Estelle She still calls me drunk every few months And asks me stuff I don't want to talk about You can't talk to her very long unless you're drunk yourself Then we go all night She says, "Why baby, why baby, why baby, why Have you turned your back on love? You had so many chances Why have you let 'em all go by?" Well, one morning I was sitting in front of Dino's place with Jake the Shears, a guy from Philly Who gives free mohawks There were a couple of young painters I was hopin' to come by So I could give 'em some advice Yeah, I was sittin' there updating my list of enemies When this girl walks in And the universe kind of stops Turned out she drank the same tea as me It don't take more than that to start a conversation sometimes She believed collage was the greatest of all the arts And was busy pasting pictures of horses Next to ads for laundry soap Next to Mohammed Ali She had a turquoise in her ear And said Rachmaninoff was always in her head Later that day I was trying to describe her to Jimmy the Wig I couldn't find any words And I realized I'd started to sketch her chin Somehow it didn't look right I scratched it out and tried it again I filled an entire pad I threw it away, I never even came close For six days I sat at Dino's place The rain wouldn't quit and no one came in Finally on the seventh day it cleared And in she walked I asked her to sit with me And ibought her a cup of tea And I asked her to model for me sometime That afternoon I was at a canvas She was wearing a yellow dress I swore if she let me, I'd get it right I've painted over ten thousand paintings Sad ones, funny ones, dark ones, and light ones But sitting there, it was like I couldn't even Write my own name I apologized and said, "It's been a few months If you have patience, I'll get the hang of it again" In the next few weeks, I painted her hundreds of times If I get the nose right, the chin's too long If I get 'em both right, the face is too thin But I keep after it and one day I get it all right I painted a still life this morning Of a throat lozenge sitting on a copy of Tropic of Cancer The only weird thing about it Is I never thought I'd paint anything again I think I might go visit Estelle Those Utah mountains are good for the soul I'll bring my brushes And some Jack Daniels And we can make up for lost time She said, "Why baby, why baby, why baby why? Have you turned your back on love You had so many chances Why do you let 'em all go by? Why baby, why baby, why baby why? Have you turned your back on love You had so many chances Why do you let 'em all go by?" Sometimes it seems like there's so much that you need Sometimes the world is upside down Sometimes it seems like the only thing you need Is holdin' someone's hand as you walk through town "Estelle" -Dan Bern [ June 17, 2004, 04:26 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Don't be stupid. Music exists, and people create it. Everyone works inside the space within their own head. Do you seriously think anyone, if their head was filled with nothing more than trash, nothing more than ugliness, could have produced the works of Beethoven? I think not. I may make mock, I may belittle, but I am not such a fool as to think that beauty ever settles on one language, race, religion. or nation. So much beauty. So little time to kick each and every one of you useless, sodding bastards in the arse. Heh! Serves you right, you pillocks! There's no sodding way that 'beauty' is ever going to settle on any of you lot, Ladies of the 'Pool and cooks, excepted, of course.

Oh, yes. No one questions all that ****e. But what have you all done for us lately, eh?! Feel free to take your socks off while you work out the answer on every available digit...

That may have something to do with said bottle. Although I'm told delirium is quite frightening, most of the times but hey, if it's *that* bad, why are LSD hippies always smiling ? </font>

I think my only point of quibble with you is that I could never stand the tickling as you licked the soles of my feet. Nice to see that you've grown out of it. Did you at least use my name as your child's middle name? You should, given that the best efforts of your spermatozoa could never have overcome your wife's desire not to be impregnated by you, without my help. I feel bad about it, but I foresee great things for your child. I'm a bit confused about that, actually. I mean, We Olde Ones are sitting around the fire, passing the bottle from hand to hand, and foreseeing the progress of your child...and we see only good things. Bugger. Does your wife have any really, really close male friends with whom she spent a great deal of time before she announced her pregnancy?

Oh, and as far as all this 'my language is better than your language' stuff, I'm reminded of the words of my old German Teacher, who said 'People say German is a harsh and unmusical language, and French is a beautiful language. German is the language of Goethe and Beethoven! Have you ever heard an angry Frenchman? It's like listening to a cat being flushed down a toilet!" Oh, and doesn't the Russian for 'I love you' literally translate as, 'I would share half my lump of moldy, black bread with you, and would throw you off the sled to the running wolves last of all others...'

Whats with the obsession of following people around while pestering them to tell you pickup-lines? Are you that lonely? ...</font>

I think I'll have your turn mounted on my wall, Boo, rampant. Right next to the Jackalope head...

I'm at work, and I haven't been home except to sleep for the last two days or so, but I see that I do have a file from you, so I imagine that as soon as I get home and, after lovingly ignoring Boo's turn for another 3 weeks, I will see what I can do about your turn...

Hortlund you poison toad, tell me I have beautiful eyes right now or we begin the folk dancing!

Well, DUH! Anything to keep you occupied and out of her sight. Surprised she hasn't bought you golf clubs. [/QB]</font>

Actually, he's right. I could have coped with the sweating and trembling hands, and hallucinations haven't bothered me in decades (many a nightmarish encounter with delirium tremens is still more entertaining than reading the posts in the Cheery Waffle), but when I found that screaming obscenities at the neighbours simply wasn't helping me cope anymore, I ended up on the General Forum, and we all know how wrong that can go.