Google Groups no longer supports new Usenet posts or subscriptions. Historical content remains viewable.
Dismiss
Lawrence: whoooorrhh...or WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!! (REPOST)
5 views
Skip to first unread message
fabzorba
Oct 23, 2012, 10:38:40 PM10/23/12
to
Introduction to First Edition ( November, 2010 publication)
WOOOOOOH!!!! HOOOOOOOOOH!!!!
WOOOOOOOH!!!! HOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!! YOU BOURGEOIS SHITS!!!!
WOOOOOOOH!!!! FUCKING!!! HOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!
https://groups.google.com/group/alt.usage.english/browse_thread/thread/9eb8b07e1d13f6d5/25980c7bb0b549d7?hl=en-GB&lnk=gst&q=abzorba+lawrence#25980c7bb0b549d7
Introduction to THIS edition (October, 2012)
As I peruse the sentiments I espoused in the introduction to the first
(2010) edition of this piece, I once again imagine myself as that
youth, that incandescent raging youth. Angry young man, yes, indeed,
angry young man....Of course, I was an angry young toddler. Red in the
face, I squalled full-bore for hours at the cat immediately outside
the bars of my baby’s crib, which, rather like the denizens of this
froup, sat there neatly and inspected me with wide and puzzled eyes,
motionless bar for the slow metronome sweep of her tail. Today, of
course, I only yell at my cat for 15 minutes or so, not for a whole
day.
Yes, every spring must have its autumn. The frenzied throwing of
handfuls of paint has morphed into the production of dainty
watercolours; hues of tropical gaudiness are now pastels. The past
is, most certainly, another place, and I did things differently there,
though some would say not as differently as I might suppose. As I
stood on the rooftops of Sydney in those days, when my vital fluids
ran like streams of sparkling water, I bawled my lungs out at the
world beneath me, like a lion roars at anything and everything it
sees. And now I am more circumspect, and the years have introduced
some mellowness into the vintage of these grapes of wrath. I am
manifestly more inclined to negotiation, though perhaps an element of
the prolix and a mien of self-satisfaction have made an appearance.
And perhaps, as many have averred, I "try too hard". I leave it to
the judgement of my betters, of which this froup has so very many.
The youth I was lives and burns on a cliff opposite the cliff on which
I now reside, and a vast gulf separates these two shards of a broken
clay pot which drift ever apart, but never lose sight of each other.
Such is life. I am the Ferret in Winter - still nosy, but not as lean
as once I was. Again that youth of temps perdu challenges the very
air with his barbaric yawps, on those astonishingly hot summers'
nights in Sydney. That youth lives on that other cliff top but he is
within me too, and is within anyone who has ever trembled with
indignation at every injustice that has made humanity suffer.
So it is only left for me to thank those who have helped me become who
I am here, that estimable panel of virtues, Laura, Athel, Tony Poole,
Steve Hayes and the rest, whose implacable opposition to everything I
have ever said has done more to rally this man's spirits, and his will
to overcome, than could any number of tepid supporters. Thank you, and
I will, as Marius Hance has often declared, "be loving you long
time".
If once I bawled my message from the cliff tops, may I now, from
within the confines of this overstuffed ottoman raise a glass of this
rather indifferent sherry, and tentatively proclaim today's version of
the sentiments expressed in the first Introduction:
Woo hoo,
Woo hoo fellow froupers
Woo effing hoo....
********************
Hello. Please you be helping me with this one. When Mellors first say
"Whoooorrhh"... but next time he saying "WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!!" What this
mean? Not in dictionary. And is second whoooorrhhh different tense to
first one.
It was then that Connie Chatterley first invited Oliver Mellors into
the drawing room.
"Oh, Oliver", she breathed, "You look like you've been labouring so
hard...so very hard!"
"Oi've bin fair knackered out at that", said the doughty gamekeeper.
"Sweatin' like a pig, I am."
"Oh, you have the fragrance of the untamed wild, the REAL earth about
you, Oliver, do you know that?"
"I'd get the tub out, Mrs Chatterley, but it ain't April yet."
"Oh no, don't do that, Oliver. You smell authentic, not like the
effete crowd."
"Do you mean me feet stink, Mrs Chatterley? I'll put some carbolic on
'em tonight..."
"Oh Oliver, you are one to treasure. There's no one like you. And
There's no need to call me Mrs Chatterley when we are alone
together...like this...like we are now. All alone...together...and
alone..." Her voice lowered to a whisper on the last words. She felt
the top button of her blouse, and it came undone in her nervous
fingers, and beneath the blouse her bosom began to swell.
"Whoooorrhh..." thought Mellors, "I think I might be in with a chance
here, sure enough... And it's been a long while since it rained..."
"What do you call the other ladies, the girls you know, Oliver?"
"Well, I call some of them lassie, if they don't object to it."
"Oh, how awfully delightful!" squealed Connie, and she clapped her
hands. "Mummsy called me that, when I was a little one. Please call me
that then, when we are alone, which we are now..."
"Very well, Mrs Lassie it is then, if you don't take exception to it."
Connie looked at him evenly and once again felt the buttons at the top
of her blouse. "Now, my hard-working real man, would you like a little
drink?"
"Well if you are being so kind, a pint of cider wouldn't hit the
sides."
"I'll go and get one."
And presently, she returned with cider for Oliver and three bottles of
sherry for herself. They sat at the table and began to drink. Connie
asked him what he had been doing that day to build up such a sweat and
thirst, and he began to tell her how he had assisted Bess, the cow, in
the delivery of her calf. He almost knocked the bottles off the table
as he enacted how hard he had "pulled and pulled" at the emerging
calf. "And then," Oliver said at the end of the lengthy and detailed
narration, "She began to scoff the afterbirth, and that's when I
knowed she'd be as right as rain."
"How wonderful, Oliver! It's so, so authentic and full of blood and
life itself. Now, Oliver, let me be frank with you" and a blush came
over her which spread like a tide from cheeks to throat to breast. "I
have a bed here, and I would like you to show me what kind of man you
really are, in that bed...with me."
"WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!!" Mellors roared, so much like a bull. "I be right up
to that, Mrs Lassie, and you can bet on that!"
"Well, I'll just go and slip into something comfortable..." Connie
smiled.
"No need for that, Mrs. Lassie, just strip off and let's get to it.
Can't stay too long, though. I've got to muck out the stables at
sparrow's fart tomorra."
Connie began to take off her clothes, all of them, and Oliver took off
his shirt and lowered his trousers. When he looked up at the now-naked
Connie, he expressed his admiration.
"WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!!" Mrs. Lassie, I do declare, if you were a cow,
you'd be a-winnin' any best udders ribbon in any competition."
"Glad you like me, Oliver, but oh, I've smudged my mascara and I must
look a fright."
"No worries, there Mrs. Lassie. I'm not lookin' at the mantelpiece
when I be stokin' the fire."
"But, my hero, DO take your trousers and boots off."
"No time, Mrs Lassie, not to worry, I can do the job with the strides
down my ankles, done it lots of times like that. No sweat, and it's
easy for the quick getaway if that's needed."
"Well, here I am, my dear, have your way with me…I'm all yours", and
Connie lay naked on the bed.
"WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!!" roared Oliver as an American soldier might have
yelled "Geronimo" as he charged across a field of battle.
WOOOOOOH!!!! HOOOOOOOOOH!!!!
WOOOOOOOH!!!! HOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!! YOU BOURGEOIS SHITS!!!!
WOOOOOOOH!!!! FUCKING!!! HOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!
https://groups.google.com/group/alt.usage.english/browse_thread/thread/9eb8b07e1d13f6d5/25980c7bb0b549d7?hl=en-GB&lnk=gst&q=abzorba+lawrence#25980c7bb0b549d7
Introduction to THIS edition (October, 2012)
As I peruse the sentiments I espoused in the introduction to the first
(2010) edition of this piece, I once again imagine myself as that
youth, that incandescent raging youth. Angry young man, yes, indeed,
angry young man....Of course, I was an angry young toddler. Red in the
face, I squalled full-bore for hours at the cat immediately outside
the bars of my baby’s crib, which, rather like the denizens of this
froup, sat there neatly and inspected me with wide and puzzled eyes,
motionless bar for the slow metronome sweep of her tail. Today, of
course, I only yell at my cat for 15 minutes or so, not for a whole
day.
Yes, every spring must have its autumn. The frenzied throwing of
handfuls of paint has morphed into the production of dainty
watercolours; hues of tropical gaudiness are now pastels. The past
is, most certainly, another place, and I did things differently there,
though some would say not as differently as I might suppose. As I
stood on the rooftops of Sydney in those days, when my vital fluids
ran like streams of sparkling water, I bawled my lungs out at the
world beneath me, like a lion roars at anything and everything it
sees. And now I am more circumspect, and the years have introduced
some mellowness into the vintage of these grapes of wrath. I am
manifestly more inclined to negotiation, though perhaps an element of
the prolix and a mien of self-satisfaction have made an appearance.
And perhaps, as many have averred, I "try too hard". I leave it to
the judgement of my betters, of which this froup has so very many.
The youth I was lives and burns on a cliff opposite the cliff on which
I now reside, and a vast gulf separates these two shards of a broken
clay pot which drift ever apart, but never lose sight of each other.
Such is life. I am the Ferret in Winter - still nosy, but not as lean
as once I was. Again that youth of temps perdu challenges the very
air with his barbaric yawps, on those astonishingly hot summers'
nights in Sydney. That youth lives on that other cliff top but he is
within me too, and is within anyone who has ever trembled with
indignation at every injustice that has made humanity suffer.
So it is only left for me to thank those who have helped me become who
I am here, that estimable panel of virtues, Laura, Athel, Tony Poole,
Steve Hayes and the rest, whose implacable opposition to everything I
have ever said has done more to rally this man's spirits, and his will
to overcome, than could any number of tepid supporters. Thank you, and
I will, as Marius Hance has often declared, "be loving you long
time".
If once I bawled my message from the cliff tops, may I now, from
within the confines of this overstuffed ottoman raise a glass of this
rather indifferent sherry, and tentatively proclaim today's version of
the sentiments expressed in the first Introduction:
Woo hoo,
Woo hoo fellow froupers
Woo effing hoo....
********************
Hello. Please you be helping me with this one. When Mellors first say
"Whoooorrhh"... but next time he saying "WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!!" What this
mean? Not in dictionary. And is second whoooorrhhh different tense to
first one.
It was then that Connie Chatterley first invited Oliver Mellors into
the drawing room.
"Oh, Oliver", she breathed, "You look like you've been labouring so
hard...so very hard!"
"Oi've bin fair knackered out at that", said the doughty gamekeeper.
"Sweatin' like a pig, I am."
"Oh, you have the fragrance of the untamed wild, the REAL earth about
you, Oliver, do you know that?"
"I'd get the tub out, Mrs Chatterley, but it ain't April yet."
"Oh no, don't do that, Oliver. You smell authentic, not like the
effete crowd."
"Do you mean me feet stink, Mrs Chatterley? I'll put some carbolic on
'em tonight..."
"Oh Oliver, you are one to treasure. There's no one like you. And
There's no need to call me Mrs Chatterley when we are alone
together...like this...like we are now. All alone...together...and
alone..." Her voice lowered to a whisper on the last words. She felt
the top button of her blouse, and it came undone in her nervous
fingers, and beneath the blouse her bosom began to swell.
"Whoooorrhh..." thought Mellors, "I think I might be in with a chance
here, sure enough... And it's been a long while since it rained..."
"What do you call the other ladies, the girls you know, Oliver?"
"Well, I call some of them lassie, if they don't object to it."
"Oh, how awfully delightful!" squealed Connie, and she clapped her
hands. "Mummsy called me that, when I was a little one. Please call me
that then, when we are alone, which we are now..."
"Very well, Mrs Lassie it is then, if you don't take exception to it."
Connie looked at him evenly and once again felt the buttons at the top
of her blouse. "Now, my hard-working real man, would you like a little
drink?"
"Well if you are being so kind, a pint of cider wouldn't hit the
sides."
"I'll go and get one."
And presently, she returned with cider for Oliver and three bottles of
sherry for herself. They sat at the table and began to drink. Connie
asked him what he had been doing that day to build up such a sweat and
thirst, and he began to tell her how he had assisted Bess, the cow, in
the delivery of her calf. He almost knocked the bottles off the table
as he enacted how hard he had "pulled and pulled" at the emerging
calf. "And then," Oliver said at the end of the lengthy and detailed
narration, "She began to scoff the afterbirth, and that's when I
knowed she'd be as right as rain."
"How wonderful, Oliver! It's so, so authentic and full of blood and
life itself. Now, Oliver, let me be frank with you" and a blush came
over her which spread like a tide from cheeks to throat to breast. "I
have a bed here, and I would like you to show me what kind of man you
really are, in that bed...with me."
"WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!!" Mellors roared, so much like a bull. "I be right up
to that, Mrs Lassie, and you can bet on that!"
"Well, I'll just go and slip into something comfortable..." Connie
smiled.
"No need for that, Mrs. Lassie, just strip off and let's get to it.
Can't stay too long, though. I've got to muck out the stables at
sparrow's fart tomorra."
Connie began to take off her clothes, all of them, and Oliver took off
his shirt and lowered his trousers. When he looked up at the now-naked
Connie, he expressed his admiration.
"WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!!" Mrs. Lassie, I do declare, if you were a cow,
you'd be a-winnin' any best udders ribbon in any competition."
"Glad you like me, Oliver, but oh, I've smudged my mascara and I must
look a fright."
"No worries, there Mrs. Lassie. I'm not lookin' at the mantelpiece
when I be stokin' the fire."
"But, my hero, DO take your trousers and boots off."
"No time, Mrs Lassie, not to worry, I can do the job with the strides
down my ankles, done it lots of times like that. No sweat, and it's
easy for the quick getaway if that's needed."
"Well, here I am, my dear, have your way with me…I'm all yours", and
Connie lay naked on the bed.
"WHHOOOWRRHHH!!!!" roared Oliver as an American soldier might have
yelled "Geronimo" as he charged across a field of battle.
fabzorba
Oct 23, 2012, 11:53:59 PM10/23/12
to
On Oct 24, 1:38 pm, fabzorba <myles.abzo...@gmail.com> wrote:
I mentioned the panel of the virtuous in athel, laura, tony poole and
steve hayes, and others, but forgot to wish them all the best in the
coming festive season. So, according to your own creed, Happy
Christmas, (or Xmas for the Yanks), Happy Hanukkah and Happy First Wet
Dream by Supreme Overlord Pooki.
Myles (I loving you long time...) paulsen
I mentioned the panel of the virtuous in athel, laura, tony poole and
steve hayes, and others, but forgot to wish them all the best in the
coming festive season. So, according to your own creed, Happy
Christmas, (or Xmas for the Yanks), Happy Hanukkah and Happy First Wet
Dream by Supreme Overlord Pooki.
Myles (I loving you long time...) paulsen
Guy Barry
Oct 24, 2012, 4:44:01 AM10/24/12
to
"fabzorba" wrote in message
news:e863bfd5-2a5f-452d...@ph9g2000pbb.googlegroups.com...
> Introduction to First Edition ( November, 2010 publication)
made the whole thing worth reading all over again.
--
Guy Barry
Robin Bignall
Oct 24, 2012, 3:19:54 PM10/24/12
to
experienced Usenetters. Does anyone on the wrong side of 15 think it's
cute?
--
Robin Bignall
(BrE)
Herts, England
Glenn Knickerbocker
Oct 24, 2012, 4:46:52 PM10/24/12
to
On 10/24/2012 3:19 PM, Robin Bignall wrote:
> Only just. My teeth grate when I see the word 'froup' used by supposed
> experienced Usenetters. Does anyone on the wrong side of 15 think it's
> cute?
I don't know from cute, but the people who use it most have been doing
> Only just. My teeth grate when I see the word 'froup' used by supposed
> experienced Usenetters. Does anyone on the wrong side of 15 think it's
> cute?
so for about four years longer than I've been on Usenet.
ŹR
Robin Bignall
Oct 24, 2012, 7:31:35 PM10/24/12
to
fabzorba
Oct 24, 2012, 11:00:57 PM10/24/12
to
On 25 Oct, 07:46, Glenn Knickerbocker <N...@bestweb.net> wrote:
> On 10/24/2012 3:19 PM, Robin Bignall wrote:
>
> > Only just. My teeth grate when I see the word 'froup' used by supposed
> > experienced Usenetters. Does anyone on the wrong side of 15 think it's
> > cute?
>
Well, there is an inbuilt ambivalence cum ambiguity in your thinkette.
> On 10/24/2012 3:19 PM, Robin Bignall wrote:
>
> > Only just. My teeth grate when I see the word 'froup' used by supposed
> > experienced Usenetters. Does anyone on the wrong side of 15 think it's
> > cute?
>
What IS the "wrong side" of 15? I am guessing with a name like
"Kickerbocker" you might be favouring the childhood side.
In which case, your teeth might grate coz you are teething. Here, this
might help: http://www.forbaby.com.au/Our-Products/Heinz-Little-Kids-Snacks/HEINZ-Teething-Rusks-Vegetable
Now that you have finished having a big poo here, go and do a real one
for mummsy, that's a good boy.
fabzorba
Oct 24, 2012, 11:03:11 PM10/24/12
to
On 25 Oct, 10:31, Robin Bignall <docro...@ntlworld.com> wrote:
> On Wed, 24 Oct 2012 16:46:52 -0400, Glenn Knickerbocker
>
> On Wed, 24 Oct 2012 16:46:52 -0400, Glenn Knickerbocker
>
> <N...@bestweb.net> wrote:
> >On 10/24/2012 3:19 PM, Robin Bignall wrote:
> >> Only just. My teeth grate when I see the word 'froup' used by supposed
> >> experienced Usenetters. Does anyone on the wrong side of 15 think it's
> >> cute?
>
> >I don't know from cute, but the people who use it most have been doing
> >so for about four years longer than I've been on Usenet.
>
> About time they grew up.
>
Yes, that's right. Having a little fun with word games is like, being
> >On 10/24/2012 3:19 PM, Robin Bignall wrote:
> >> Only just. My teeth grate when I see the word 'froup' used by supposed
> >> experienced Usenetters. Does anyone on the wrong side of 15 think it's
> >> cute?
>
> >I don't know from cute, but the people who use it most have been doing
> >so for about four years longer than I've been on Usenet.
>
> About time they grew up.
>
so very immature. We should all just follow BBC1, and never make fun
of things. Got a child who likes to have a bit of a laff? Whip the
bejesus out of the bastard, or he will end up like fabzorba. Froup
like cow orker and others are sentimental and frivolous textual
artifices. Guess what, Joyce is full of 'em. Students get their
doctorates by the wheelbarrow-load studying precisely such word play.
English literature, without them would be what you are, dull as
ditchwater, and twice as useless.
But now, we should "grow up". What a officious bore you are! People
can avail themselves and amuse themselves with word puns, and guess
what, they don't have to speak like some ossified prefect when they
"grow up". I like froup, it's harmless, and look dear, I have the
background IN literature to get away with it if I fucking want to. I
have a doctorate in English, do you? You think that I am pulling rank
with that, do you? Well, that my friend is PRECISELY what having
letters after your name is for. And when I say CUNTINENTAL Philosophy
instead of CONTINENTAL philosophy, and call my alma mater Cuntcastle
University instead of Newcastle University, I feel that I have every
right, as a citizen, as a writer, as a performer, as a bon vivant, as
a raconteur, as a humorist, as a teacher and academic and as a damn
fine gentlemen and scholar to do absolutely that very thing.
I know people like you, born prefects. You come into a party and
everyone thinks "Who left?" You rain on parades, you don't "get"
jokes, and so you come to fear them, and to condemn those who not only
"get" them, but - fuckin' oath - actually MAKE them. Here's a group
you might prefer:
http://groups.google.com/group/english4morons?msg=subscribe&hl=en-GB
Guy Barry
Oct 25, 2012, 2:45:26 AM10/25/12
to
"Robin Bignall" wrote in message
news:vhug88lu1nah4mtql...@4ax.com...
part of the in-crowd. I've never used it myself. If you're new to Usenet
it just looks like a typo, so I'm not sure who it's meant to impress.
--
Guy Barry
Robin Bignall
Oct 25, 2012, 10:55:17 AM10/25/12
to
On Wed, 24 Oct 2012 20:03:11 -0700 (PDT), fabzorba
<myles....@gmail.com> wrote:
Oh, Fabzie baby, I can't really be bothered to read all this drivel. I
have a PhD in physics and have published. But only boring old
scientific papers, I'm afraid, no grist for the mill of a literature
genius such as you.
<myles....@gmail.com> wrote:
Oh, Fabzie baby, I can't really be bothered to read all this drivel. I
have a PhD in physics and have published. But only boring old
scientific papers, I'm afraid, no grist for the mill of a literature
genius such as you.
Glenn Knickerbocker
Oct 25, 2012, 12:48:06 PM10/25/12
to
On 10/24/2012 11:00 PM, fabzorba wrote:
> What IS the "wrong side" of 15? I am guessing with a name like
> "Kickerbocker" you might be favouring the childhood side.
I'm guessing with a name like "Piles" you're not so enamoured with
> What IS the "wrong side" of 15? I am guessing with a name like
> "Kickerbocker" you might be favouring the childhood side.
adulthood yourself.
ŹR
fabzorba
Oct 26, 2012, 7:19:55 PM10/26/12
to
On 25 Oct, 17:45, "Guy Barry" <guy.ba...@blueyonder.co.uk> wrote:
>
> I think some long-established Usenetters see it as a way of showing they're
> part of the in-crowd. I've never used it myself. If you're new to Usenet
> it just looks like a typo, so I'm not sure who it's meant to impress.
>
You are not sure who it is meant to impress. Let me repeat: You "are
>
> I think some long-established Usenetters see it as a way of showing they're
> part of the in-crowd. I've never used it myself. If you're new to Usenet
> it just looks like a typo, so I'm not sure who it's meant to impress.
>
not sure". Well, is the fact that you don't know a reflection on YOU
or me. Think about it. Some people cross themselves when they enter a
church or cross a busy road. Someone doesn't know why they do this.
Hey, "Someone" could be just ignorant. Like you. There are traditions
that make life more interesting and tie us to the past. If you don't
know about them, look, we live in the internet age. Just Google it.
fabzorba
Oct 26, 2012, 7:29:23 PM10/26/12
to
On 26 Oct, 01:55, Robin Bignall <docro...@ntlworld.com> wrote:
> On Wed, 24 Oct 2012 20:03:11 -0700 (PDT), fabzorba
>
> On Wed, 24 Oct 2012 20:03:11 -0700 (PDT), fabzorba
>
> <myles.abzo...@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> Oh, Fabzie baby, I can't really be bothered to read all this drivel. I
> have a PhD in physics and have published. But only boring old
> scientific papers, I'm afraid, no grist for the mill of a literature
> genius such as you.
> --
Like Tony Cooper, your first and indeed only line of attack is to
>
> Oh, Fabzie baby, I can't really be bothered to read all this drivel. I
> have a PhD in physics and have published. But only boring old
> scientific papers, I'm afraid, no grist for the mill of a literature
> genius such as you.
> --
assert that you DON'T read my stuff. And like him, you seem
surprisingly apprised of their contents. I don't care if you read them
or not. My intended audience is not meant for dullards with chalkdust
up their bum crack like you. And as for your PhD in physics, you are
like so many technocrats who hang about here and basically claim to
own this froup. Imagine if I was posting lots of stuff concerning
myths and such onto a physics site. I'd soon be told to fuck off and
take my shit to where it was intended. You are not qualified to make
any analyses here, so why don't you take the same advice.
Aue is FULL of dickheads like you, athel, laura and moylen being prime
examples. Why they don't post their boring shit on sites which
specialize in the disciplines in which you have some qualification.
myles [that's what we need here, another goddam computer programmer to
tell us about how to write English...] paulsen
fabzorba
Oct 26, 2012, 7:30:04 PM10/26/12
to
myles [but perhaps a felicitous one...] paulsen
Robin Bignall
Oct 27, 2012, 11:42:09 AM10/27/12
to
On Fri, 26 Oct 2012 16:29:23 -0700 (PDT), fabzorba
<myles....@gmail.com> wrote:
>Like Tony Cooper, your first and indeed only line of attack is to
>assert that you DON'T read my stuff. And like him, you seem
>surprisingly apprised of their contents.
I'm a fast reader, and your
<myles....@gmail.com> wrote:
>Like Tony Cooper, your first and indeed only line of attack is to
>assert that you DON'T read my stuff. And like him, you seem
>surprisingly apprised of their contents.
"I have a doctorate in English, do you? You think that I am pulling rank
with that, do you? Well, that my friend is PRECISELY what having
letters after your name is for."
There are enough letters after people's names in this group to fill
countless Scrabble games. Pulling rank? What a joke.
To get your English qualification you doubtless had to read a lot of
books written by other people. I wouldn't lose if I bet that the vast
majority of people in AUE have spent much of their lives reading books
written by other people. But they haven't turned out as self-important
whiners.
0 new messages