Nidan1 Posted July 15, 2009 Share Posted July 15, 2009 Actually, I have a mental image of a rift valley... No that you mention it...I sort of picture the rings of Saturn. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yeknodathon Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 ... indeed, quite amazing what mental images thrust upon our minds with the prospect of Emrys rapier-like wit. Vast chasms and their echoes don't really come close... though the infinite expanding void of space where screams can't be heard... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 ... indeed, quite amazing what mental images thrust upon our minds with the prospect of Emrys rapier-like wit. Vast chasms and their echoes don't really come close... though the infinite expanding void of space where screams can't be heard... ...yet, on the silent sighing wind can be felt the faint echos of a goat being noisily and violently sick... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stuka Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 I have ample free time to exercise my rapier I hope you wash your hands afterwards. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stuka Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 Oh, Boo, I expect things of you. Well, I like you. Somebody has a stalker........ Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 Awww, you guys are just jealous. Even in the empty unlighted rooms of your minds, you must recognize that I far outshine you in brilliance, in the alacrity of my judgments, in the profundity of my thought. You should take me as your model and shape up. Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 You should take me as your model... Michael Because you're not life size. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jdmorse Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 It still exists, Time for my Quadrennial dose of thorazine mixed with various other drugs and isolate in a sensory depravation chamber, knock back a tequila and drop by for a visit. I see we still do not have lives, good on you, and my greetings and deprecations to all of those who are not yet senile to remember who I was, hell not that I even remember that. Joe, Seanachai, Boo, Michael, dalem, Stuka. OGSF etc. Oh yes I loathe you all....ahhh that felt good. Now piss off. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 Pappy! Founder of our House. Or is that flounder in a blouse? So hard to remember. So... you out on good behavior or what? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jdmorse Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 Hey Boo. Still the reprobate I see. Yep, the Justicar of my present alternative existence has granted a short pass, as long as the meds last. Course there was that incident....but I swear I thought she was older... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stuka Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 I like cheese Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 Hey Boo. Still the reprobate I see. Yep, the Justicar of my present alternative existence has granted a short pass, as long as the meds last. Course there was that incident....but I swear I thought she was older... Like we've never heard THAT before. I'm sorry to say you've come at a bad time. It seems entropy has finally caught up with the MBT. Like cockroaches abandoning a burning building, like rats escaping a sinking ship, like monkeys spanking a... wait.... no, that's something else... anyway, people don't seem to come in here that much anymore, preferring to waste...er...spend their time at that new-fangled sociopathic networking site, I'mSoInYourFacebook. Peng, Seanachai and Berli rarely stumble by here. Joe shows up on occasion, but it's usually just to tell people that he's posted some new photos of his nose on I'mSoInYourFacebook. sigh... I guess all good things come to an end. Not that that pertains to THIS place, of course. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 I like cheese Yes, you've always been a rather cheesy sort, haven't you? Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted July 16, 2009 Share Posted July 16, 2009 ...my greetings and deprecations to all... Ah yes. jd something or other. I seem to remember something about you, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Then again, it's not at all likely that I'd ever want to put my finger on it. It's probably all icky and brown or green. Not the kind of thing one would want to serve to guests one wants to make a favorable impression on... Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 Like that's something you'd ever have to be concerned about. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
costard Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 Someone is probing the Gnome. http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/07/17/2628375.htm Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jdmorse Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 Ah yes. jd something or other. I seem to remember something about you, but I can't quite put my finger on it. l Ah Michael, Michael. Since you use latex gloves to avoid your DNA being left where they can run a match I can understand. Despite the fact that we are a mere 206 miles distant....well let's just leave it. When last I frequented these parts you were but a choke throated neotenous androgynial mass of pubescence. Nice to see that your shy awkwardness, endearing as it maybe, persists, an Axis 2 disorder of the first magnitude, no doubt heredity has a role. Yep, up in the 'hollers of the Olympics, things can get a might twitchy. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 Someone is probing the Gnome. http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/07/17/2628375.htm You low and loathsome fellow. Take your soppy dreams of 'Mounting the Heights' elsewhere. I'm sure that in today's world of Web gratification you, and those who share your fetishistic dysfunction, can find a place to log in and fantasize endlessly about my person. But I can't be having with that here. This is my house, and you vermin need to remember that nibbling just enough of the poisoned cheese to not die doesn't entitle you to strut about like you were buying the next round. And now, one of the things I love about Small Friends. My friend, Jen, the Mother of Small Emma, recently underwent a severe scare. A lump that turned out to be nothing, but which led them to discover another 'anomalous mass' that proved to be far more frightening, and which resulted in 'Grandma Steve' (for I have many names...) spending several days over time baby-sitting Small Friends while she and her husband Chris dealt with doctors and tests and the panoply of fright that attends upon growing old and confronting the reality of mortality. However the biopsy came back 'benign', with no need for any particular follow-up, except the yearly 'shaking the bush here, boss', biznai of being healthy in America. The relief was, as they say, palpable. For those of you with enough of an education to recognize the joke, or pick up a dictionary, I know that you will remind the 'others' why I am the Bard of the Peng Challenge Thread. And, thereby, their Master. It was, to say the least, an interesting few weeks. I was subjected, repeatedly, to the 'pocket hang'. This is where a laughing child grabs on to a pocket and takes her feet off the floor, dangling, and laughs like a merry sprite while you grab at your pants to keep: a) your pants from descending to your knees, and the pocket from ripping off. When the 5 year old joins with the 3 year old, it's like being pantsed by extremely evil pixies. For a while there, in the mornings when I cinched up my belt, I (gloriously) thought I was losing weight. But then, upon reflection, I realized that the waistband of my jeans had simply been horribly stretched out. I learned to 'make breakfast' for children. Their Mother, inured to years of getting up early by way of having children, always made her doctor/medical appointments for the early morning, so that she could get on with her day, and her life, and her children. This involves giving the children 'cereal in milk'. Although I have cooked over open campfires in all conditions for many, prepared meals for dinner parties of friends, and, in general, am one of the better male cooks that I know, it was determined that I was probably 'capable of giving the girls cereal in milk'. 'sTruth! On the other hand, I had to cope with giving 'Puffins' to the one that wasn't allergic to peanuts, and 'Cheerios' to the one that wasn't allergic to tree nuts, and keeping which was which straight, so as not to kill either child, while wondering why a family with g*d-d*amned food allergies would have anything other than oatmeal on hand for anybody. I needn't have worried about any of it. The five year old, Small Emma, told me, "I get Puffins. Nora can't have 'Puffins', because they have peanuts." (A small voice in the background shouts 'I don't have peanuts!'). But Nora can't have peanuts, because they'll make her sick. I can't have Cheerios because they might have almonds in them, but almonds don't really make me sick, but I like 'Puffins'." (in the background: 'I don't have peanuts!'). "But I can't have cashews. Cashews, Grandma Steve," significant look, "are really bad for me. But there aren't any cashews in 'Puffins', which I like, but I don't eat 'Cheerios', and Nora can't have 'Puffins'" (in the background 'I don't like peanuts!')." All this at 7:30 in the AM, which I normally only ever see coming from the wrong side, and then usually at Dalem's place, which, after all this, I explain to him 'I like rum. I don't have water!'. But I get up in the early morning, so that my friend of many years, who is one of the dearest people imaginable, and who has put up with me for long before her little girls were born, can go to the doctor to make sure that She will be around long after old, and evil, and utterly vile people like myself are dead and gone. And when She tells me, on a Tuesday, that the biopsy came back 'benign', I offer up a little prayer, to follow upon all the larger prayers, to the Goddess. Because this means she will be there, to raise her little girls, unhindered by disease or despair. And that means they will grow up to be good people. Because their Mother and Father are about the best people I know. And better yet, they will grow up with wicked old Grandma Steve, unfettered by the need to 'make their mother proud'. I'm a bad old man. And a push-over. Their Mom told me today: "You give in to them too much, and they know it! You make Chamberlain look like Attila the Hun. Wiener!" But that brings us back to one of the things I love about Small Friends. Because this morning, when I went over to their house to go out to breakfast with them, I let myself in (Grandma Steve cannot be kept out; nor can he be killed with bullets!), and after the dogs stopped barking (Freyja, be quiet! Siguna, shut-up!), and after my two Small Friends ran up to the front door, beaming, and I came in and we went to the sun porch to play. And after we played for a while, there Mom came down, and offered me orange juice, and we talked about 'the girls' for a while, and then Small Emma said: 'Mommy, lets get going!' And her Mom said: 'Let's go? Why do you think we're going anywhere?' And Emma said: 'Well, why else did you get dressed?' I fell over arm of the couch laughing. I will spend every day of the next few months giving her Mom crap about that. Three times I had to hear 'What? What?! Do you really think I only get out of my pajamas if we leave the house?!! What the hell are you laughing about, you swine?! Ask Chris if he's ever come home and found me still in my pajamas just because I'm home with the girls! You bastard! Stop laughing!' This is why I love Small Friends; one reason amongst many. One innocent remark of silliness (I deal with their Mom all the time, me being unemployed; she does not lounge about in pajamas. The Wehrmacht would have employed her to drill troops) by a Small Friend, and I have a handle on mockery for weeks to come! After going out to breakfast with her and the two Small Friends this morning, she said: "Let's thank Grandma Steve (for I have many names...) for coming out to breakfast with us this morning," as I picked up her youngest daughter, Smaller Nora, for the umpteenth time to carry her, and I told her "No, no, Jen. I'm just glad I could come over and get you all to come out, so that you had a reason to get out of your pajamas..." Oh, Tra-la! And a small child will lead them to mockery. I can't even begin to describe how much fun her husband and I had tonight, debating over how many days she spent slouching about in her pajamas... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 Ah Michael, Michael. When last I frequented these parts... That's never after being Morse, is it?! My stars and garters! When I first went to Carleton College, I sat through a Freshman address when the Dean of School took as her text 'You cannot go home again; Yet you must go home again'. Damn woman was erudite as hell. And now, 30 years later, she's a bloody beacon of prophecy. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jdmorse Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 Hail and Well met Ser Seanachai for who amongst this offal, can keep the dulcet tones of erudition, bard indeed, alive such as you. Since that first thread I have admired your riposte, (and thus egged you own at Peng's expense) and truly only the OLD ONES I grant respect, certainly not that poseur Joe Small Friends indeed, if by such interlocutory I must acknowledge the innocence and devilishness of the young, esp at 5. But then I am his grand pere and have many names as well, one of which seems to be variations on "poppa being an 'old dog'". They do provide the ur source for many a riposte at their parents expense, a core benefit of having lived long enough to understand why we, in ancient times, used to die young...so we would not kill our the offspring of our loins. (Esp if they move back in!) Thus I wish you and your family a boon of health and more importantly, time, and while I tend to doze off half way through the perilousness of your prose, I am sure it is of a similar ken. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 Did you guys have a cat fight? We did indeed. I won, because Dalem simply won't kill a cat. And, let me say now, and for the record, that Patchy, that is, Persephone, is a friend of mine. Her Ex is one of my bestest buddies (gotta remind him of that, probably), and an Old One of the Peng Challenge Thread, also. Others await our judgement, but she is free. Life is too short to make much about anything save cannibalism and pederasty. Well, at least pederasty. What do you think the Argylls ate at Khartoum? Camels?!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 ...and while I tend to doze off half way through the perilousness of your prose... There, there, lad. Most of them here are such louts, these days, that they couldn't define 'prose' if given a dictionary, thesaurus and encyclopedia to work it out. It's no wonder you doze off. At your time of life, the adventure of solid food must occupy most of your waking hours, the rest being devoted to wondering why your 'water wand' occasionally stirs sullenly when a handsome nurse strolls by... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Emrys Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 ...I know that you will remind the 'others' why I am the Bard of the Peng Challenge Thread. The therapy didn't take and he still suffers from delusions of grandeur. Actually, it is we who have to do all the suffering. The insufferable bastard seems to enjoy it all. There ain't no right nowhere, as the sainted Jimi used to say. Michael Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 I am a wicked old man. You see, I have a plan. I do not tell it in a Small Emma story, because I must copy every 'Small Emma, Smaller Nora' story to their Mom. And there are things that Moms need not know about, until that time has come. So, my new project is, the next time I 'babysit', to work with little 'Nora the Destroya'. Seriously, Nora is a little terror. Imagine the blondest, most pipingly small voiced angel in the Universe. Now, imagine that same small angel, cute to the point of heartache, who has decided to enact her will, and contend with God, even if it means the destruction of the World. Imagine her watching the world burn, with a small frown because maybe she wanted there to be more horror. And yet, imagine her to still be the goofiest, smallest fiend in all of Satan's arsenal, and ultimately lovable. I love my Smaller Nora. But I've watched her turn one hand into a claw to rend her sister's hair, with a look of vengeance passing over her face that would make all of you lot go lock yourself into a quiet room and chant platitudes to yourselves, and maybe sing a soft song of childhood days. 'Michael Row the Boat Ashore', perhaps. Or 'Khumbaya, My Lord'. One need not look any further than the face of an angry and frustrated 3 year old to understand the full course of human evil. I never had to deal before with this aspect of 'children' with Small Emma. She was, at that point, the 'only child'; beloved and made much of, by both myself and everyone else in two families with few young children. She was, and remains, a little dancer, a 'Fairy Princess', a story-maker and listener, a thistledown of magic on the winds of life. She's also a little rule-bound, bossy-boots elder child whose only outlet of 'control' is getting her little sister to do exactly what she wants. And her little sister is a blonde-haired, blue-eyed fallen angel who would have supported Satan in a New York minute if it meant she could put her small, stern heel onto the throat of anyone who opposed her, especially her older sister. They are both, of course, almost indescribably delightful. There is NO contradiction here. They are all of mankind, written smaller and cuter. This is why the greatest and most important duty of all mankind is not to Do Good Works, or Right Wrongs, nor even To Achieve Justice. The main duty of mankind is to 'Raise Good Kids'. This is also the hardest goddamned duty anyone can be put to. Most people don't even know that's what the feck they're supposed to do. That's why it all goes wrong. If you raise good kids, they will Do Good Works, and Right Wrongs, and, with the help of all the gods, Achieve Justice. People are stupid. They think that because they've had kids, and because they think all too well of themselves, and because they've passed on their own prejudices and foolishness to their children, they've done their lot by the world. In most cases, as we've seen in election after election in this country, alone, they've done nothing more than piss a weak stream of their own stupidity into the future. Anyone can reproduce. Anyone can vomit their DNA into the future, and think that with the right amount of brag and abuse, or airy-fairy stupidity, they can carry their own foolishness into a new world. There's not a single one of us now living that isn't almost too fecking stupid to live. We can argue blue state/red state until we all sh*t ourselves. We can make curse words of 'conservative/liberal' until the stupidity of labels makes the American Civil War look a meeting of minds. We can sit down and determine that 'no kid of mine is going to believe in that ****e', and we're never going to escape the fact that we're already The Past, and that when the Future arrives, we'd all better have sent the Best and the Brightest part of what we believe into the future with those who've looked into our eyes and hearts, listening to our words and beliefs, and will make a world that they will have to live in, not us. We're going to die, and rightly so. No need to make our own stupidity live after us, nor let what we most value die. The trick is making sure that the anger and stupidity of our personal feuds with the world aren't carried over to make another generation go through the same foolishness. The greatest of all Human Stupidities is the belief that we are on a constant, upward path to a better world. The second greatest stupidity is that we aren't. All that's needed is to dance the fine line between the two. And only those who believe in the future, without abandoning the past, can dance that dance. No one can dance that dance carrying all the foolishness of their parents. And no one can get there without the strengths and beliefs of their parents. So, as you can see, QED, the hardest goddamn job in the world is to be a parent. Take it seriously. Because you're already dead. You are already dead. Do you want a better world? Or do just want to keep being stupid because you thought you were smart, and had children? All you lot that are, like me, without children? Get behind a better world and push, or shut the hell up. "And the Old Man said: Her name, is Youth And there's little enough any of you cared for her While she was yours, Until she was gone. And the name of the wee white goat Is the World And there's none can bind that, but me And my name Is Death." Finn and the Old Man's House -John Renbourn Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted July 17, 2009 Share Posted July 17, 2009 The therapy didn't take and he still suffers from delusions of grandeur. Michael He? Who, prithee? I was posting to 'Every Cesspooler', with that remark. If we're talking about... what the hell's his handle... 'cotard'? I know him not. Isn't he something that women insert during a certain cycle of the moon, in anticipation of stained panties, otherwise? He seems to me less useful, because I don't believe him able to absorb even the simplest lesson, let alone the onrush of a woman's flow. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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