The Swinger
dadd...@yahoo.com
There we were like any couple of tourists snapping pictures of the
towering Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago; well, I was snapping the
pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of the Mayflower
coffee shop yawning. It was supposed to be our honeymoon, sort of, after
a two year delay, but that's what it was supposed to be anyway. Those
two years were all it had taken for the ice to settle in, which had
slowly been on the move with the inevitability of a glacier ever since
the day we were first married.
"God, Marcie! We're here now. Why can't you just enjoy yourself?" As I
put my hand on her light gray, white collared spring coat, she pulled
away into a pout.
"I never wanted to come down here in the first place."
She pulled away again as I tried to take her shoulders into my arm.
"Well, c'mon, let's walk. I don't want to stand here in the middle of
downtown Chicago under God and Picasso arguing." I motioned in the
direction I thought we might go, dragging my pace as she stubbornly set
herself into motion.
"Well, where do you want to argue, then?" She removed some wind-blown
strands of black hair from her mouth. "You want to argue under the Sears
Towers up on State Street, again?"
"Hell, Marcie. I really thought you wanted to come down here."
Her neck-length hair bobbed with her forward motion as she looked up at
me in just a flash of her hazel eyes. "This was always your big idea,
not mine. I just went along 'cause you thought it was such a big deal."
"Christ. Now you tell me. Damn, Marcie, this is Chicago, the big
town."
"What's the big deal. Big town, big deal. So what."
"Jesus, what a lousy attitude."
It was a lousy attitude, and it was ruining all the fun. Sure, to me it
was a big deal, finally to have a look at Chicago, at a real big city,
to walk around in it and feel that big city throb.
In the big Chicago Museum of Art she perked up a little, what with all
the original Van Gogh's and Chagall's to feast her eyes upon, but
sitting there on the bench in front of those works, she just dropped
back into the same old slump.
"We could have fun here, Marcie, if you'd just take the right attitude.
We both worked hard for this trip; it's supposed to be our honeymoon."
She held her cigarette over her knee, avoiding my gaze, staring at her
smoke. "Some honeymoon. You never want to spend any money."
"On what? You want to buy that Van Gogh? Whaddaya want from me? It's
not like we came down here with a picnic lunch. We had a nice
breakfast."
"In the Mayflower coffee shop."
"Christ. Whaddaya want? The goddam Hilton?"
"In Chicago, it's the Parker House."
"Agh! Bacon and eggs is bacon and eggs no matter where you eat 'em."
"Well, what're we here for then?"
"To see Chicago life fer the godsakes. How many Chicagoans go to the
Parker House to eat? People here ride the El trains, they go to a
cafeteria or a little cafe, they don't throw their money around on a lot
of fancy shit. You want to eat a lot of fancy food, what do you get? A
lot of fancy shit for your money right down the tubes."
For once she looked directly at me, taking a long appraising pull off
her Old Gold filter. "So what do you want to do?"
"I want to save the bread for something worth doing."
"Like what?"
"That Second City place, for one thing. I was reading about it in the
Voice; it's supposed to be really hip. I mean, if they're talking about
it in New York, it has to be good, right?"
"Yeah, I already said let's go there. What else? They don't have a
show until tonight."
"We could take a ride on the El train."
"To where?"
"Anywhere. I don't care, just want to ride on it."
"Probably wind up in some rough part of town and get mugged."
So, we rode on the El train from downtown to Division Street and walked
back along Division to Wells street in Old Town. Chicago, in that part
of the city is very flat so you can look down a street like Division or
Divisadero and see forever; two lines of three storey brownstones
receding in a mesh of electric and telephone wires going on, as it seems
to the end of the universe. Big town. Big city. Infinite town.
Infinite city.
We found the garage just off Clark Street where the St. Valentine's Day
Massacre took place. We looked at that, it was just a few blocks from
the Second City Theatre. We walked back to Wells and started
prospecting for a place to have dinner; stopped into an Irish pub and
had some draft ale, listened to the Clancy Brothers on the jukebox. We
sat at the bar until I grew a bit weary of Marcie's flirtations with the
bartender. Over dinner across the street, after we'd taken in a Kenneth
Anger film, she was back in her funk, complaining that it wasn't a nice
enough restaurant, and about the way I'd dragged her away from the pub
before she was herself of a mind to leave.
It's not as if I'd actually recognized her flirtations for what they
were; I only knew that I'd grown weary of being the butt of her jokes
with the bartender. Sure, it's true that I suffered a lot of jealousy
anxiety over her back home. And no, I never really down deep ever
trusted her, never took much stock in her fidelity, even though I would
not permit myself to think my suspicions were anything but baseless.
But, I knew that she'd become rather close friends with a man where she
worked whom she'd taken pains to introduce to me, as to make him my
friend, a man in whose friendship I had no interest. It's true that on
every Saturday all day, Monday and Wednesday nights when I was away at
work giving music lessons at the studio, I wondered what she might be up
to, back home in the apartment.
Was my jealousy merely irrational, an inability to trust? I certainly
did my level best to believe that. Just a damn neurosis that I had to
put out of my head, that's all there was to it.
Second City was great. The satire had us both in stitches; this was '67
when David Steinberg was there and it was all just starting to happen
for them. When it was over, we went back to the big old Lincoln Park
Hotel in which we had a very nice room. Marcie came up with a headache.
Some honeymoon.
"After a whole day of bitching, it's no damn wonder you got a headache."
"Oh, will you just leave me alone? I want to go to bed and sleep!"
"It's a wonder I don't have a headache from it, but then you're a lot
closer to it than I am."
"Will you just...leave...me...alone?"
"Christ, Marcie! How can you be so cold? It's like I don't even know
you anymore."
"Well, maybe you never did. Maybe we never should have got married in
the first place!"
"No, man." I went over and sat on the other double bed next the one
she'd gotten into near the window. "We got to talk about this because
you are just...Christ man, I'm goddam amazed, you know?"
"I've got a headache, can't you understand?"
I jumped up. "Well goddamit! I'm not ready to sleep. What a drag.
Damn!"
"Well, go!"
I went. I walked. I was blue. I melded in with the crowds along Wells
street. Something was wrong. She'd never been so cold. Never. It was
as if by bringing her to Chicago I was keeping her away from something
she'd rather be doing at home, and like she really resented me for it.
Numerous times during the day, the conversation had come close to
something, some reason for her disaffection over this trip, but she
remained vague in her blame; the reality remained out of sight.
Nothing was clear except my blues, and my realization that I had never
experienced such resentment from her. It was as if this trip had
brought something to the surface that had been there all along like some
submarine iceberg that now for some reason had listed enough to rise
into a clear, chilling and treacherous obstruction between us. For the
first time in our marriage, I felt alone, as if widowed.
If ever there had been a time in our marriage when I felt absolutely
free to act like a single man without guilt, this night was it. There
had been plenty of times when I'd had the opportunity to have an affair;
oh, I'd been close.
There was the night I'd walked my school chum Glenda home to her
off-campus apartment; lovely, long haired, long legged, green-eyed
Glenda, the library science major. She'd invited me in for a cup of tea.
Oh, Glenda, Glenda! I hadn't been married to Marcie for a week before
I'd found Glenda seated beside me in my Italian class. How I cursed
fate to think of it, how it had been through jealousy that I'd married
Marcie in the first place? Yes, after I'd caught her necking at a party
on the weekend I'd come up to visit her. Fool that I was, oh, fool that
I was to think that just knocking that schmuck for a loop was enough to
cure her! The next weekend I went north to visit, I had the engagement
ring. The month following, we were married and she was down with me in
the city for good, working as a receptionist while I went to school, and
also worked twenty hours part time.
No sooner were we married than I met Glenda. Only then did I partly
realize the hell my jealousy had driven me to. Here was I in the
apartment of this gorgeous doll, she's asking me to unzip the back of
her dress; she pauses waiting for me to make my move...I don't. I'm
married. I can't do it!
As I'm walking past the noisy go-go clubs on Wells Street, I'm not
thinking of Glenda; I'm just too cold and blue. I pause in front of one
club where there's a mini-skirted girl dancing in a silver cage. I'm on
the outside looking in. Why don't I go in? What's stopping me? I turn
and start to head back in the direction of the hotel.
I'm in a shock of incredulity. Could this woman I had lived with two
years really care so little, or that is to say, not at all? How could
that happen? Only an ongoing infidelity she'd been enjoying and now was
missing could explain it, but that could not occur to me. It was simply
the mystery of her distance, this transparent sheet of ice that had
moved in between us that had me so numb.
After another block or so, I found myself staring at the marquee of a
club called "Mother Blues". Big Brother & the Holding Company was on
the bill. Wow. Wasn't that one of the bands our friends in San Francisco
had written us about? I was sure I recognized the name from a flyer
they'd sent from something called a "Trips Festival". In the morning,
I'd tell Marcie about that, then we'd have something great to do; and
she'd cheer up, be her old self again.
Strange how I couldn't bring myself to sleep with her that night, how I
just took the other bed. In the morning, as usual she was slow about
getting going.
"Hey, I got something exciting to tell you about, Marcie."
"Oh...what?"
"Are you coming? I'll tell you over breakfast."
"Breakfast where?" She's still rubbing her eyes.
"Downstairs. They got a nice little cafe down there. Looks right out
on Wells street. You can see a newsstand right out the window selling
all the Chicago papers. God, they got three or four different papers in
this town. Big City."
"Well, go on down there and read the paper. I'll just be a few
minutes."
Okay, I went down. I waited. I went out on the street to check out the
newsstand. I bought all four papers; had to have all four, all the
early Blue Stripe editions. I came back in and waited. I read all four
papers while I waited. I stared at the big, lush, ripe melons in the
cases behind the counter, waiting. I could not believe that I had been
waiting for an hour! How could I have been sitting there an hour
waiting for her?
When I came off the elevator on the ninth floor, I could see the door to
our room was open. I walked down the corridor and went in. She was
nowhere to be seen. I went back into the corridor, and called her name.
"Marcie!"
The door to the room across from ours was open, and here she comes out
of that room in her bra and slip.
"What?"
"John! What are you doing up here?"
"What am I doing....What are you doin..."
A short, sort of balding portly guy is coming out of that open room.
"Oh! You must be Marcie's husband, John. Are you John? She was just in
here helping me open a window. My window was stuck in here. Oh! I just
don't know what I would have done without her! I just knocked on your
door, and the next thing I knew, she was helping me; isn't she just
sweet? Oh, you are so lucky to have such a dear, lovely sweet wife."
This guy is as poor a physical specimen as comes along; I could have
beat him to pulp with a few taps.
I'm looking around. Marcie has disappeared into our room. Now, before I
know it, this guy's got his hands all over me, walking into our room
just behind me as Marcie is coming out of the bathroom buttoning a
blouse, now in her skirt.
"Well, uh look...uh..." I'm working on getting rid of this weirdo.
"John! Isn't he just something else? He says he can show us everying
we want to see in Chicago. He's from Gary, Indiana and he's here on
business."
"Everybody knows me. I'm a swinger. I have hundreds of friends, and
everyone likes me."
"A swinger. Okay, I'm like, still trying to...."
"John! We can all go down and have breakfast together, and..."
"Uh no. No, we'll just go down, you and I together so we can..."
Now, this guy's hand is on me again. "Oh, don't worry about me. Look,
you two go ahead and have breakfast together, and I'll come down and
join you later, and..."
"Oh, please come and...John! Why do you have to be that way?"
My wife is coming out of a strange man's room in her bra and slip, and
why do I have to be that way?"
Over breakfast, I could get nothing but irritation out of her in
response to my questions about the bra and slip; and why did I have to
be such a prude all the time?
It never would dawn on me, if this story were true about the stuck
window, that this was not such a far cry from my unzipping of Glenda's
dress, and yet, since when does it take an hour to unstick a window that
"was" stuck?
Just when I had finally permitted her brusque denials to lull me into my
accustomed idiocy in her regard, and when I was about to order one of
those luscious looking honeydew melons, this weirdo, Philbert by name
was leaning over the cushion of my booth, insisting that we should
hurry.
"Hurry? Hurry for what? I'm going to order one o' those..."
"C'mon, John! Philbert is going to drive us wherever we want to go."
"Oh, well, I don't really..."
She's jumping up and grabbing her purse. Next thing I know, he's
pulling over in a gold Cadillac in front of the hotel. And now, we're
driving around downtown Chicago, he's showing us the big, ugly Chicago
Board of Trade building and he's got his hand on Marcie's knee. She
looks up at me. She doesn't do a thing; just looks at me with a kind of
pleased smile on her face.
"Hey! Git offa there, man. What's the matter with you?" I'm taking
his hand off her knee.
Marcie's giggling. My ears are burning. He's got his hand on her leg
again, higher this time.
"Christ! What the hell're you doin', man?" I took his hand off and
threw it at him. "Are you crazy?"
"Well, John, you don't have to be so rough," she says.
I don't have to be so rough? What the f...
"No, he really doesn't. John, really. It's okay, I'm a swinger."
He's a swinger.
"Yeah, you're a swinger."
"Oh sure, everybody knows that. It's just the way I am."
"It's just the way he is, John."
"Okay. Cool."
"Really?" He's looking at me, like he just hit pay dirt.
"Yeah," I says, "Why don't you just swing this Caddy of yours right
around, here Philbert, and take us back to the hotel."
Philbert took us back to the hotel. I was still pretty much in shock
over it all at Mother Blues that night, until Big Brother and Janis came
on and blew the roof off the place, knocked my shock right out with it.
I'd never heard such loud, exciting rock 'n roll music in my life.
Never seen such hair on men, they all had it nearly down to the small
of their backs, they wore knee-high riding boots and blousey shirts;
looked just like the miners of the great California Gold Rush. They all
looked hungry, as in fact, they'd just stopped here on their way back to
the coast after recording their first LP with an obscure jazz label in
New York, which they were here hawking from the stage. Janis was small,
very petite, wearing boots, black tights, skirt and a ruffled blouse,
wouldn't have turned the scale to even a hundred pounds, but man could
she stomp and shake that place, shrieking you into a peak experience
with a hot little number like, "Women is Losers".
This was all the sex I'd been missin'; and man had I been missin' it.
Short of feeling all that eros that Janis was spilling like rich oils
all over everybody, I guess that in the scale of things erotic, it could
only take a Second City seat to something like the smile on Marcie's
mouth, the deep, dark look in her eye when that "swinger" had his hand
on her knee.
--
--==--
Jervis http://www.dejanews.com/~espresso
--==--
Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/
Before you buy.
Joe Sykes
Syko
Gene Royer
dadd...@yahoo.com wrote in message <81ljig$1i1$1...@nnrp1.deja.com>...
>
>
>There we were like any couple of tourists snapping pictures of the
>towering Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago; well, I was snapping the
>pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of the Mayflower
>coffee shop yawning.
<snip snip>
>Jervis http://www.dejanews.com/~espresso
Now, this is more like it. Snipped, I mean.
--Geno<A recovering Thankaholic>Royer
daddio
<Sy...@omism.demon.co.uk> wrote:
> Dreary.
> Syko
I'm minded to chaulk this up to that rather unfortunate use of the term
"Limey" I made in reference to Pritchard. Also, I'll take note of the
manner in which this fellow references himself, and maybe consider the
source?
Even so, in a sense, the piece is meant to be "dreary"; very dreary
indeed. Can anything be more dreary than a love gone cold? Maybe some
people just don't have the stuff to turn from the cheery, supercilious,
fantasy-frilled aspects of existence to take a walk on the very blue
side. Too bad. Both are valid subjects of literature.
Ordinarily, I would have let a heartless, meaningless, useless, one
word response like this slip by, but in the interest of seeing this
piece given a fair chance, lest such a response as this, and that by
Royer should poison the potential appreciation of others; i.e. in the
event that these two should be offering their discouraging words out of
somewhat less than laudable motives, I offer that as a possibility; as
for example plain, pure suck up to the MW ("don't post your stories
here") hostility--well, then I just thought that potential motive
should made clear. There is the third possibility, the most abysmal of
the lot, which is the sort of knee-jerk response of dweebs seeking
favor and esteem in the sight of their absurd peers through the means
of plain meanness directed at the perceived sort of 'outgroup person'.
This latter is a very common behavior; really the most common on earth
among every species of animal, and is never to be rejected as the
motivating factor in a dishonest review.
--
Jervis
Note that I make no claims about the quality of this piece, myself; I'm
in far too subjective a place to know. I do know that it was fun to
write, a fair amount of work but not hard work, and when it goes like
that, it often turns out favorably. So, for those who are not of a
biased frame of mind, don't let the naysayers turn you away. Judge for
yourself.
* Sent from RemarQ http://www.remarq.com The Internet's Discussion Network *
The fastest and easiest way to search and participate in Usenet - Free!
daddio
<sir...@mindspring.com> wrote:
> dadd...@yahoo.com wrote in message
> <81ljig$1i1$1...@nnrp1.deja.com>...
> >
> >
> >towering Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago; well, I was
> snapping the
> >pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of the
> Mayflower
> >coffee shop yawning.
> >Jervis http://www.dejanews.com/~espresso
> Now, this is more like it. Snipped, I mean.
> --Geno<A recovering Thankaholic>Royer
Tell you what, Royer...
I just read it over, the whole story, myself. I made note of a
redundancy or two, a couple of structural weaknesses, one fault in the
plot which fault was this. I have Philbert knocking on the door. He
should not have been knocking on the door. That door should have been
left open by Marcie. He calls into the room for the "help" he needs. He
gets it.
Aside from those things, the raw material of a final draft is here.
Now I say that you are nothing but a goddam baldfaced liar. I say that
anyone, anyone at all could read this story and enjoy it. That's what
I say, come fresh from reading it myself. That's what I'm saying about
you, Royer. I'm saying that you are a silly twit and a suckup to the
esteem of your peers; a nothing and a nobody, a gutless, soulless,
heartless, pathetic putrid turd on the grass of life. Now, how's that
suit you?
--
Jervis
Gene Royer
daddio wrote in message <0a0133f8...@usw-ex0107-041.remarq.com>...
>In article <81m09o$1pt$1...@nntp3.atl.mindspring.net>, "Gene Royer"
><sir...@mindspring.com> wrote:
>> dadd...@yahoo.com wrote in message
>> <81ljig$1i1$1...@nnrp1.deja.com>...
>> >
>> >
>> >towering Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago; well, I was
>> snapping the
>> >pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of the
>> Mayflower
>> >coffee shop yawning.
>> >Jervis http://www.dejanews.com/~espresso
>> Now, this is more like it. Snipped, I mean.
>> --Geno<A recovering Thankaholic>Royer
>
>Tell you what, Royer...
>
>I just read it over, the whole story, myself. I made note of a
>redundancy or two, a couple of structural weaknesses, one fault in the
>plot which fault was this. I have Philbert knocking on the door. He
>should not have been knocking on the door. That door should have been
>left open by Marcie. He calls into the room for the "help" he needs. He
>gets it.
>
>Aside from those things, the raw material of a final draft is here.
>
>Now I say that you are nothing but a goddam baldfaced liar. I say that
>anyone, anyone at all could read this story and enjoy it. That's what
>I say, come fresh from reading it myself. That's what I'm saying about
>you, Royer. I'm saying that you are a silly twit and a suckup to the
>esteem of your peers; a nothing and a nobody, a gutless, soulless,
>heartless, pathetic putrid turd on the grass of life. Now, how's that
>suit you?
>
>--
>Jervis
LOL! This guy's chain is as touchy as Evander's ear. Even my five-year
old could lead him around by the ego. What a hoot!
But I do give him credit for having enough courage to read the damn thing
again. That must have taken guts! Much more than I have, I confess.
--Geno<people shouldn't post for critique if they don't have the courage to
take it like a man>Royer
daddio
Royer...
>LOL! This guy's chain is as touchy as Evander's ear. Even my
>five-year old could lead him around by the ego. What a hoot!
>But I do give him credit for having enough courage to read the damn
>thing again. That must have taken guts! Much more than I have, I
>confess.
>--Geno<people shouldn't post for critique if they don't have the
>courage to take it like a man>Royer
Okay? Now, here's what he refers to as "critique"...
> >towering Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago; well, I was
> snapping the pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of
> the Mayflower coffee shop yawning. <snip snip>
> >Jervis http://www.dejanews.com/~espresso
> Now, this is more like it. Snipped, I mean.
> --Geno<A recovering Thankaholic>Royer
The fact of the matter is that when someone offers an honest critique,
a true critique I always try to respond with courtesy. See the most
recent one from Andy in regard to "Blue's Place".
I called this man "a bald-faced liar". If he is not a liar then he is
far too busy watching football and playing games with his slobby beer
swilling illiterate relatives to come around here calling himself "a
writer". I mean, either he's a liar or plain ignorant. You absolutely
cannot call a thing like that "a critique". It is not critique, it is
an inane, pointless, snide potshot, which in his ignorance and lack of
a critical recognition for wit, he fantasizes as 'humor'.
His comment about "ego" is totally demolished by this display of his
own hurt pride. Like all cowards guilty of damn fool craven 'in-group'
ragging behavior, when the ball happens to sting his hand, he starts
howling like a banshee. He can dish it out, but totally freaks out
when it's his ass in the tar and feathers. Nothing worse than this
kind of jerk who has the unmittigated nerve to think he can insult you
all he likes and then incredibly, he whines like a kicked dog when the
insult rightly comes right back to him with a little english on it, Now
hear him barking about "ego" and what in his estimation a "man" amounts
to.
Jesus jumping Christ!
I said the man was a liar; and now he's proven it, that he should have
the unmittigated gall to refer to a stupid, careless jibe as
"critique". Not even the brilliantly ascerbic Dottie Parker would leave
it at that; she would offer support for her judgment. She would give a
_critique_. Don't lie to me and these others, Jack. Get a conscience.
Is this man a liar, or an illiterate ignoramus who really does not know
the meaning of the word "critique"? We see from his most recent
subject header that he can't spell, "Worse Thanksgiving Ever". Maybe
he's drunk on skunky beer all the time? "Worse Thanksgiving Ever".
Yeah, that's what I got for "critics".
Like I said before, read "The Swinger" for yourself, and make your own
judgment because as we've just seen, there ain't nothin' like judgment
comin' from this beer drunk railing buffoon.
Tell you what freaks a schmuck like this out about a story like that.
Hey, he's married, man! Yeah, what's he seeing in this tale that made
it such a torture for him to read? My protagonist is not the only
pussy-whipped blind fool of a cuckold in the world. There may be a few
more, eh. Geno-boy?
Ha-ha.
Ha-ha!
Yas, yas.
--
JD
The Last Real Marlboro Man
>Ha-ha.
>
>Ha-ha!
>
>Yas, yas.
You are quite insane, you know.
- Wayne (They're coming to take me away, ha-ha....)
daddio
>Ha-ha.
>
>Ha-ha!
>
>Yas, yas.
--------------
Yeah, the last refuge of the squareheads of the world is always to
mistake wit and outrageous humor for a crime or an aberration.
You are being laughed at, boy.
Ha.
Ha
Ha!
I have just received an email from a person in this group who tells me
how much she _definitely_ liked this piece. Now, I won't feed her name
to a pack of slavering mutts as a bone to gnaw for y'all. No. But,
I'll tell you this: The guesswork is over: So long as one
extraordinary person likes my work, then what the hell on earth will
the opinions of the common dregs of the world like you, some fool
calling himself, "The Last Real Marlboro Man" matter to me? Can you
possibly dig how little what you have to say in my regard matters?
--
Jervis
Gene Royer
daddio wrote in message <0a0133f8...@usw-ex0101-003.remarq.com>...
>Found this on the news-server from "Worse [sic] Thanksgiving Ever"
>Royer...
>
>>LOL! This guy's chain is as touchy as Evander's ear. Even my
>>five-year old could lead him around by the ego. What a hoot!
>
>>But I do give him credit for having enough courage to read the damn
>>thing again. That must have taken guts! Much more than I have, I
>>confess.
>
>>--Geno<people shouldn't post for critique if they don't have the
>>courage to take it like a man>Royer
>
>Okay? Now, here's what he refers to as "critique"...
>
>> snapping the pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of
Boy, you can say that again.
--Geno<Jervis. I think you're tops>Royer
Gene Royer
daddio wrote in message <000b8d9b...@usw-ex0107-041.remarq.com>...
>On Fri, 26 Nov 1999 13:35:13 -0800, daddio <dadd...@yifan.net> wrote:
>
>>Ha-ha.
>>
>>Ha-ha!
>>
>>Yas, yas.
>
>You are quite insane, you know.
>
>- Wayne (They're coming to take me away, ha-ha....)
>
>--------------
>Yeah, the last refuge of the squareheads of the world is always to
>mistake wit and outrageous humor for a crime or an aberration.
>
>You are being laughed at, boy.
>
>Ha.
>
>Ha
>
>Ha!
>
>I have just received an email from a person in this group who tells me
>how much she _definitely_ liked this piece. Now, I won't feed her name
>to a pack of slavering mutts as a bone to gnaw for y'all. No. But,
>I'll tell you this: The guesswork is over: So long as one
>extraordinary person likes my work, then what the hell on earth will
>the opinions of the common dregs of the world like you, some fool
>calling himself, "The Last Real Marlboro Man" matter to me? Can you
>possibly dig how little what you have to say in my regard matters?
>
>--
>Jervis
>
Well, that ought to damn well silence your critics. You be da man, Jervis.
--Geno<best fiction writer on the newsgroup, besides Jensen>Royer
arleen
Anopheles <hi...@jeack.com.au> wrote in message news:383fe79d@tyson...
>
ummm...maybe. but then he would have said two women wrote and told him how
much they liked his piece.
arleen
Archon
Sincerely,
A Lazy Critic
P.S.
I'd pay to read your stuff. What's your name?
> What a delightful surprise then, to find a perceptive and amusing > study of jealousy with a strong period feel that was well researched > though never intrusive. I enjoyed the piece very much indeed and I can > only suppose that your would-be critics are reacting to your somewhat > larger-than-life personality rather than to what you write. I don't > see them posting anything one tenth as interesting and my advice is to > ignore them. I thought the characterisation was excellent and the > resulting tensions handled with the skill and confidence of a fine > writer who's absolutely in control of his material. The dialogue was > also witty and immensely readable. Anyone who's capable of finding > such a story "dreary" would be better off joining the Moonies or > gulping down handfuls of Prozac in front of MTV.
> Glen.
Joe Sykes
<dadd...@yifan.net> writes
>Judge for
>yourself.
It sucks, Pops. Your prose sucks. I seem to remember you having a go at
somebody a few weeks ago when I was here last and it was quite a good
rant. Embarrassing, but quite a good rant for a sad old hasneverbeen.
See if you can't work out how to do that when you sit down to compose
your 'great literature'. I forget why you think it's so great, by the
way. But don't tell us again. I met Ken Kesey once and he bored the
pants off me but at least he shared his drugs. You just share your
failed dreams and wishful thinking. Boring.
Syko
Glen Wall
<dadd...@yahoo.com> wrote in message news:81ljig$1i1$1...@nnrp1.deja.com...
>
>
> There we were like any couple of tourists snapping pictures of the
> towering Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago; well, I was snapping the
> pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of the Mayflower
> coffee shop yawning. It was supposed to be our honeymoon, sort of, after
> a two year delay, but that's what it was supposed to be anyway. Those
> two years were all it had taken for the ice to settle in, which had
> slowly been on the move with the inevitability of a glacier ever since
> the day we were first married.
I haven't had time to read this until now - I didn't want to rush through
it - but I did read some of the comments it's attracted from assorted
individuals. Athough none of their remarks display any evidence of critical
acuity, or even much in the way of intelligence, I confess that I did wonder
what kind of a story could arouse so much scorn and antipathy. I thought it
must surely be some embarrassing piece of juvenalia, exhumed from a dusty
drawer and given one last outing before being fed to the incinerator.
Anopheles
Anopheles
Joe Sykes
<glen...@freenet.co.uk> writes to
>
><dadd...@yahoo.com>
>I haven't had time to read this until now - I didn't want to rush through
>it - but I did read some of the comments it's attracted from assorted
>individuals. Athough none of their remarks display any evidence of critical
>acuity, or even much in the way of intelligence, I confess that I did wonder
>what kind of a story could arouse so much scorn and antipathy. I thought it
>must surely be some embarrassing piece of juvenalia, exhumed from a dusty
>drawer and given one last outing before being fed to the incinerator.
>
>What a delightful surprise then, to find a perceptive and amusing study of
>jealousy with a strong period feel that was well researched though never
>intrusive. I enjoyed the piece very much indeed and I can only suppose that
>your would-be critics are reacting to your somewhat larger-than-life
>personality rather than to what you write. I don't see them posting anything
>one tenth as interesting and my advice is to ignore them. I thought the
>characterisation was excellent and the resulting tensions handled with the
>skill and confidence of a fine writer who's absolutely in control of his
>material. The dialogue was also witty and immensely readable. Anyone who's
>capable of finding such a story "dreary" would be better off joining the
>Moonies or gulping down handfuls of Prozac in front of MTV.
>
>Glen.
Perceptive? Of what? Male anxiety? What amused you? The (wrong) bedroom
antics of the blousy wife of a bluesy dullard just like the ones we have
all taken advantage of at one time or another, perhaps. Terribly dreary.
The characterization was grotesquely mundane, the only tension held up
her bra and panties, and the writer is completely in the control of the
material he has so little to write about, but succeeds in writing that
little so long. The dialogue might as well be verbatim transcription of
a taped conversation in the lobby of any cheap hotel or in a cafe. What
has a 'period' to do with this kind of narrative? The story belongs in
file thirteen; that's where it would go if it landed on a professional
desk. I understand your standpoint but it does rather make you look a
fool.
In article <81ljig$1i1$1...@nnrp1.deja.com>, dadd...@yahoo.com writes
>
>
>There we were like any couple of tourists snapping pictures of the
>towering Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago;
83,000 people have written this sentence. On postcards.
>well, I was snapping the
>pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of the Mayflower
>coffee shop yawning. It was supposed to be our honeymoon, sort of, after
>a two year delay,
Dreary. "It was supposed to be our honeymoon, sort of, after a two year
delay". This is not literary writing (our friend's claim for his work),
this is a clue.
>but that's what it was supposed to be anyway. Those
>two years were all it had taken for the ice to settle in, which had
>slowly been on the move with the inevitability of a glacier ever since
>the day we were first married.
Dreary. Dreadfully dull imagery so obvious in its choice that you begin
to wonder why the writer bothered. So the marriage is like uncountable
marriages between numberless brainwashed 'modern' couples. Glacially
dull. The prose is beginning to work. I can feel the inevitability of
a progression the story is bound to take. I read on. Perhaps it is an
intentional device. Dreary prose to tell a dreary tale. Certainly it
is a viable excuse that this writer may be inclined to offer. It will
beg the question, 'Why bother?' Here is an extract from a dreary tale.
It is from the Underwood translation.
'The traveller thought: it was always a serious matter,
intervening decisively in other people's affairs. He was
neither a citizen of the penal colony nor a citizen of the
country to which it belonged. Were he to attempt to pass
judgement on or, worse, prevent this execution, they
could have told him: be quiet, you're a foreigner. He
would have had no rejoinder; he could only have added
that in this instance he found his own behaviour puzzling,
travelling as he did purely for the purpose of seeing things
and not at all, for example, in order to alter the way in
which other countries constituted their legal systems.'
The paragraph continues with each line imparting information
to the reader, and in the next paragraph, as you may know,
there is the incident of the condemned man vomiting, and
upsetting the guard. A dreary tale, but the writing --
you can smell it.
>
>"God, Marcie! We're here now. Why can't you just enjoy yourself?" As I
>put my hand on her light gray, white collared spring coat, she pulled
>away into a pout.
"She pulled away into a pout."? What does that mean? We know what it's
intended to mean. It's amateur writing.
>
>"I never wanted to come down here in the first place."
>
>She pulled away again as I tried to take her shoulders into my arm.
>"Well, c'mon, let's walk. I don't want to stand here in the middle of
>downtown Chicago under God and Picasso arguing."
God and Picasso never argued. Writing without due care and attention. It
is not enough to want to be an 'artist'. You have to write, always, for
a readership that is unforgiving, not for people you imagine are like
you. Writing with artistic intent is laudable but faintly embarrassing
when it results in a pseudo-intellectual stylistic prose that surely
"inevitably" and "glacially" crawls across the page, admittedly lit
up on occasion by sparks of genuine ability. But millions of people
have genuine ability to write stuff like this; it's why millions of
people don't earn a living writing. Like Jervis.
Plain, workaday dialogue. Regretfully that is not an achievement; it is
an elementary skill that will have been learned by any undergraduate in
a literary discipline.
I'm afraid I couldn't bring myself again to plough through the rest of
this inflated postcard about a two year old failed marriage. It has no
substance, no insights, and certainly no characters I could give a damn
about. The best thing about it is the choice of name for The Swinger.
I'll abandon the rest with apologies to our friend. It is available
upstream of course if anyone cares to argue with your curiously dreary,
favourable review.
Interestingly, just finishing on the player is Errol Garner's 'Franky
and Johnny Fantasy'. Something under three minutes for an artist to
enthrall his audience.
Syko
Rob Rinne
...and excellent story...
Good morning, All,
Daddio, you wrote one excellent story. I'm not so sure about the title,
but then again, maybe I am.
I assume "The Swinger" refers to John being a reluctant swinger,
viewing how his life might have or could have been different. He didn't
want to do everything every other tourist might, he wanted to be part of
the city. He wanted to be a native of it. He wanted to get out of his
skin for two weeks and be someone somewhere else ; which is actually
kind of funny because it was his honeymoon and the only person he should
have 'been' was a husband to his wife. And for as angry as he got at his
wife, she was simply being herself (annoying and unfaithful as she is).
Bottom line, I like the story.
I might have titled it "Big City" or something, but "The Swinger" fits
- after all, the title is up to the author and as an author, you did a
fine, fine job.
Thank you for the entertainment,
Sincerely,
RARinne
daddio
>I enjoyed the piece very much indeed...
Enjoyment. Yes! Like, did I want my reader to experience anything other
than that? If it's good enough for Danielle Steele, baby, and
Jacqueline Susanne, it's good enough for me, all the way to the bank.
We got this other fellow going on and on down here like a literary
sidewalk superintendant about 'pretentions to art' and making every
kind of quibble over imagery, and how the dialogue is like anything
overheard in a cafe or on the street? Well, I hope so. It better
sound just like the way people talk. He could not have offered a higher
compliment.
Did I say "sidewalk superintendant"? How 'bout a literary Monday
Morning Quarterback; hmmm, still not quite expressive enough of what I
see that this guy is doing down here. Wait! I have it: "literary
backdoor man." This is the kind of guy who comes upon another fellow's
finished work and says, 'I could screw that guy's Muse better than he
can.' Indeed he makes a literal brag to that effect in his post, about
literal wives, literal guys he's screwed over in that way. Brags about
it. You going to run into every kind of quirky "syko" bastard
imaginable in this worldwide web, man; you goin' to find a lot of
virtual bugs wriggling, and some dead flies.
Who's "the wife"? The Muse. He says Ken "Fuck da wife! Fuck da Wife!"
Kesey was "a bore"? Man, am I glad to be "dreary" in this Oedipally
conflicted neurotic's estimation. We know that every recidivist
compulsive screwer of other men's wives is in Oedipal regression, back
there in the Kill the Father/Fuck the Mother mode. We KNOW that.
Who's da wife? The Muse, yes, but also the work, the piece..er, I mean
piece of work...you know what I mean! The art. But what is the essence
of the kind of backdoor man I'm talking about? I mean the kind that
hasn't got the stuff to find a woman on his own, so he preys on the
wives and girlfriends of the men he knows; this is the only way this
kind of backdoorman ever gets close to a woman, his motivation is
always to best and belittle the other guy; the Father.
Now this poleaxe weilding Hun comes along and starts chipping and
hacking away at my ice imagery. He offers no authority, no reasoning
for his opinion that the imagery is cliched, common, ordinary, the sort
of thing anyone would think of; as he simply expects us to take his
word for it. I find that sort of argumentation bogus, totally from the
red herring tin. He doesn't know what people will think of as they
write and seek the Muse for the most expressive images to amplify what
they say.
But, dig that whether "anyone" could think of it or not is of no
account! None. That anyone could think of it? Of a gradual chill
moving into a relationship with the inexorable, crushing inevitability
of a glacier on the move since the first day of the marriage? That
anyone could think of it could only affirm the validity of the image,
while the manner in which it's expressed is another thing. Is everyone
going to think of it? I don't know! He says he knows, but I don't.
Emphatically, I don't know why he would even suggest it - or, do I?
I can't think of a single place where I've seen it other than on my own
page. Yet, if I think of it, am I going to hyercritically reject it
because I think anybody can think of it? What? Just because it isn't
novel? Mind-raping yourself in an absurd quest for novelty is the worst
trap any writer can fall into. It abuses the Muse, pays her no regard.
If "glacier" is what she gives me, I open my hands. You don't think I'm
going to reject her inspiration for the sake of sweating myself into a
conniption fit trying to think of an expression that nobody else would
ever think of? That's not how originality works. What's original is
the _way_ you handle common themes.
There are some dingalings around here who actually think cliches,
common figures of speech are not a part of literature! Hell, they're
part of reality, and if you're writing about people with any
authenticity you better give them plenty of cliches; plenty of banal
patter to banter and batter about in their chatter: It all depends on
how you paint it; anything can be made entertaining; enjoyable. Are
you painting life? Or, are you trying to impress somebody that you are
"an original"? Nothing is more unoriginal than that, and it always
shows, painfully like boils and pimples all over the thing.
No. I can see very well what this character is up to, it's as
transparent as that sheet of ice we been talking about. He's looking
at a work - well, a first draft; the product of about four hour's work
the night it was posted - he's looking at that and saying he could do
it better, i.e. come up with better images, better subject matter; I
mean, you've known this guy all your life, right? His dad's car is
faster than your dad's car. I wonder if he knows how much I've laughed
at him all my life? He actually attacks the subject matter! He
doesn't like the character of the protagonist. All subjective; all
worthless for purposes of criticism; this is a guy totally walking in a
mess of the the tentacles of his unbridled emotional hangups.
> and I can only
> suppose that
> your would-be critics are reacting to your somewhat
> larger-than-life
> personality rather than to what you write.
> I don't see them
> posting anything
> one tenth as interesting and my advice is to ignore them.
Ordinarily, I mightily try to do that. Today, however, just for a lark,
I suddenly decided to return fire with all the velocity and force that
was coming this way. And, that meant getting just as downright mean.
Oh, yes. Yes! Dig the way they shoot; it's not just to warn, wing or
wound. They aim for the heart, or right between the eyes, to kill or to
maim. They want you to crawl away bleeding and whimpering, like, "I'm a
crumby writer, and nothing in the world will ever change that. I'm a
crumby writer because I'm a crumby guy who was simply born to be crumby
in every way." That's what these one word or one line bursts of hot
spinning word lead fed to a guy's gut are meant to accomplish.
So, today, I'm thinkin' okay, this is easy: I can be the Doc Holliday
to every foul smelling Clanton up and down this cyber-street, if that's
how they want to play. No more Mr. White Hat. If they want to show me
how shooting to kill works, then hey baby, I can go just as goose-loose
and snake-eyed with a shot from the lip as the next Bergerian "Jack
Crabb" of a cyber-gunslinger around here, maybe even show 'em how mean
and cold being cold and mean can get?
Looks like you bought yourself a bit of fire here today, too, Glen, by
the looks of what follows down here. But, I've seen you in action;
even wrangled with you a time or two myself, and got a chance to see
the way you wear your guns, so we'll see who winds up "looking foolish'
around here. If ever there was a man around this saloon who takes his
drinks with his back to the wall, spurs on the table, and with a hand
ready to move, it's Glen Wall.
> I
> thought the
> characterisation was excellent and the resulting tensions handled
> with the
> skill and confidence of a fine writer who's absolutely in control
> of his
> material. The dialogue was also witty and immensely readable.
> Anyone who's
> capable of finding such a story "dreary" would be better off
> joining the
> Moonies or gulping down handfuls of Prozac in front of MTV.
> Glen.
Ha! Now that's what I call some mighty fancy shootin', there Deadeye,
and of a kind rarely seen, where the Colt don't even seem to leave the
leather, if you know what I mean?
--
JD
daddio
In article <383F9E68...@home.com>, Rob Rinne <rri...@home.com>
wrote:
> dadd...@yahoo.com wrote:
> ....and excellent story...
> Good morning, All,
> Daddio, you wrote one excellent story.
That's good to hear.
> I'm not so sure about the
> title,
> but then again, maybe I am.
It appears in MWS as "Windy City Blues".
> I assume "The Swinger" refers to John being a reluctant swinger,
Actually it refers to "Philbert", but your take on it would be subject
for an entire conversation, in itself.
> viewing how his life might have or could have been different. He
> didn't
> want to do everything every other tourist might, he wanted to be
> part of
> the city. He wanted to be a native of it. He wanted to get out of
> his
> skin for two weeks and be someone somewhere else ; which is
> actually
> kind of funny because it was his honeymoon and the only person he
> should
> have 'been' was a husband to his wife. And for as angry as he got
> at his
> wife, she was simply being herself (annoying and unfaithful as she
> is).
Heh-heh. Well, that's one way of looking at it.
> Bottom line, I like the story.
> I might have titled it "Big City" or something, but "The Swinger"
> fits
> - after all, the title is up to the author and as an author, you
> did a
> fine, fine job.
> Thank you for the entertainment,
> Sincerely,
> RARinne
Thank you for being entertained.
--
Jervis
daddio
<arc...@worldnet.att.net> wrote:
> I agree with Glen.
> Sincerely,
> A Lazy Critic
> P.S.
> I'd pay to read your stuff. What's your name?
"Jervis Dedalus" at your Service, man.
And thanks!
> > What a delightful surprise then, to find a perceptive and
> amusing > study of jealousy with a strong period feel that was
> well researched > though never intrusive. I enjoyed the piece very
> much indeed and I can > only suppose that your would-be critics
> are reacting to your somewhat > larger-than-life personality
> rather than to what you write. I don't > see them posting anything
> one tenth as interesting and my advice is to > ignore them. I
> thought the characterisation was excellent and the > resulting
> tensions handled with the skill and confidence of a fine > writer
> who's absolutely in control of his material. The dialogue was >
> also witty and immensely readable. Anyone who's capable of finding
> > such a story "dreary" would be better off joining the Moonies or
> > gulping down handfuls of Prozac in front of MTV.
> > Glen.
* Sent from RemarQ http://www.remarq.com The Internet's Discussion Network *
Gene Royer
Glen Wall wrote in message <383f4...@news2.cluster1.telinco.net>...
>> towering Picasso sculpture in downtown Chicago; well, I was snapping the
>> pictures, while she, Marcie just stood in the doorway of the Mayflower
>> coffee shop yawning. It was supposed to be our honeymoon, sort of, after
>> a two year delay, but that's what it was supposed to be anyway. Those
>> two years were all it had taken for the ice to settle in, which had
>> slowly been on the move with the inevitability of a glacier ever since
>> the day we were first married.
>
>
>it - but I did read some of the comments it's attracted from assorted
>individuals. Athough none of their remarks display any evidence of critical
>acuity, or even much in the way of intelligence, I confess that I did
wonder
>what kind of a story could arouse so much scorn and antipathy. I thought it
>must surely be some embarrassing piece of juvenalia, exhumed from a dusty
>drawer and given one last outing before being fed to the incinerator.
>
>jealousy with a strong period feel that was well researched though never
>intrusive. I enjoyed the piece very much indeed and I can only suppose that
>your would-be critics are reacting to your somewhat larger-than-life
>personality rather than to what you write. I don't see them posting
anything
>one tenth as interesting and my advice is to ignore them. I thought the
>characterisation was excellent and the resulting tensions handled with the
>skill and confidence of a fine writer who's absolutely in control of his
>material. The dialogue was also witty and immensely readable. Anyone who's
>capable of finding such a story "dreary" would be better off joining the
>Moonies or gulping down handfuls of Prozac in front of MTV.
>
>Glen.
>
Well, as you know--otherwise you would not have waxed so gleamish--the
posting guidelines for mw rejects works being published for critique. In
all likelihood that is the main reason the piece attracted the negative
comments.
Jervis' (he is plural, isn't he) continued insistence on posting is an
irritant. And as such, he will never received good input from fellow
groupers except from those like you who are like-minded with him.
This practice does not bother or irritate me, as I am wont to post whatever
I decided. I never request critique, but I get a lot of criticism anyway;
therefore, I'm well suited to bring it to your attention.
Personally, I think the stuff Jervis writes reads like outhouse
wall-scribbling.
--Geno<an expert in outhouse scribbling>Royer
--Geno<
Gene Royer
daddio wrote in message <2750ac20...@usw-ex0107-041.remarq.com>...
*
>The fastest and easiest way to search and participate in Usenet - Free!
Lordy lordy. I awake to be entertained by Jervis and his laundry list of
little make-believe friends. He is obviously vying for title of best
fiction writer on the newsgroup. But it will be a futile endeavor, as he
doesn't have the right stuff.
Stephen G. Esrati
Let's have a moderated news group.
By the way, I hated the writing sample for what that's worth.
Glen Wall wrote:
>
>
> What a delightful surprise then, to find a perceptive and amusing study of
> jealousy
--
Stephen G. Esrati
Author of COMRADES, AVENGE US, the gripping page-turner about a hunt by GI
victims for the Nazi war criminals who mutilated them for life. It is available
from me for $7.50, postpaid.
Read about it at:
http://members.tripod.com/~ShibaHill/comrade.html
PO Box 20130
Shaker Heights, OH 44120
(216) 561-9393
Joe Sykes
are not interested in anything but praises for your posts of fiction
in literature groups. You condemn one word comments, and I accept that
they are a facile recourse. But so timesaving. You reject a critical
commentary in response to another because the one, JS, disagrees with
and argues against the other, GW, which praises you and yours with no
more than a cursory explanation why; your response, predictably, is the
Daddio Rant, which I have enjoyed before, I must say. And I must repeat,
you don't seem to grasp the significance of that observation, or you
wouldn't keep writing, and posting your constipated fictions here (and
in one group that my cursory sweep through its regs. reveals, actively
discourages the posting of fiction writing). Quite why you do post your
little offerings, is a question only you can answer, and I beg you to
desist from doing so (answering, I mean, not posting. I like to read in
the deathless watches of the night). I came across another of your tales
in deja.com that had real potential. You need an editor, my friend, not
the occasional pat on the back from dippy hippy yippies, or self-serving
snipers like GW. You're a sucker for a good flatter, aren't you, Jervis?
Terribly sweet. I imagine you preening yourself as you read the pretty
words. As I say, you need an editor, one with steel toecapped boots to
kick your arse, or scissors. One who might point out to you that, "God,
Marcie! We're here now. Why can't you just enjoy ourself?", informs the
reader in one line, and that fifty lines of boring speech is fifty lines
of boring speech. Unfortunately, there are few editors who would take on
a lost cause, even one as charming as yours.
Sadly, you are becoming increasingly plaintive, and bear in mind that
my experience of your ranting is spaced out (no, no, not that spaced
out) and attached to your writing (which writing I do the honour of
printing out and examining before I comment -- for no fee). You say,
for instance, in the first paragraph of your post to GW that I make
every kind of quibble about your imagery (your imagery, note). I say
this about your glacier imagery of a two year marriage that you are
describing as a non-starter, "Dreadfully dull imagery so obvious in
its choice that you begin to wonder why the writer bothered." Nothing
else about imagery. Choosing the glacier analogy for a marriage that
is two years old is simply inept. Glaciers are ancient, permanent,
and endless. Your choice is obvious, from a bad writer. You see the
image, not the writing. You have provided for your reader an image
of a glacier, not of a marriage that is new, impermanent and likely
to end sooner rather than later. You further display your ignorance
by declaring that your dialogue is like anything heard in the street.
Quite right, it is exactly like that; it is fifty lines of anything
heard in the street. You declare that this is a good thing, that the
reader must endure fifty lines of matrimonial intercourse or else. To
what purpose? To learn that poor Marcie is a venal, dreary woman who
wants her husband to spend more money on their trip. Proving that you
have an ear for everyday speech, and insisting that there is merit in
inflicting it on your reader, is a further sign of inexperience, and
the mark of auto-didacts with, as you say (not I), "pretensions to art".
You're no Ken Kesey, even if you do have all the bit parts in 'T.E.K.A.
A.T. Tom Wolfe overlooked you, the literati overlook you, and I look you
over and I see a needy failure writing unoriginal dross for free. Why do
you say, comparing your writing with international best-sellers, "it's
good enough for me, all the way to the bank."? You're transparently an
amateur. You never made a buck from your writing in your life. OK, maybe
a buck. You know, you have to convince the reader that your detractor(s)
are wrong. It's no good throwing rocks and hoping that they'll hit, "He
offers no authority, no reasoning for his opinion that the imagery is
cliched, common, ordinary, the sort of thing anyone would think of; as
he simply expects us to take his word for it. I find that sort of argu-
mentation bogus, totally from the red herring tin. He doesn't know what
people will think of as they write and seek the Muse for the most ex-
pressive images to amplify what they say." (God help you, you have a
muse. No, worse, you have a Muse). Jervis, I don't expect "us" to take
my word for anything. I expect "us" to take my critical comments at face
value. Even if one such comment is, "Dreary.". Reading your rants is
really great fun, though.
>Who's "the wife"? The Muse. He says Ken "Fuck da wife! Fuck da Wife!"
>Kesey was "a bore"? Man, am I glad to be "dreary" in this Oedipally
>conflicted neurotic's estimation. We know that every recidivist
>compulsive screwer of other men's wives is in Oedipal regression, back
>there in the Kill the Father/Fuck the Mother mode. We KNOW that.
Unmitigated bullshit, but fun. You're a fun ranter, Jervis. By the way,
I found Kesey boring in a crowded, smoky room full of stoned musicians
I was trying to interview. Nothing personal. Oedipal regression, eh? I
never knew. I'd still screw your wife, though, if she was that kind of
screw. Know what I mean? Especially if she looks like my mother.
And there's more. "This is a guy totally walking in a mess of the the
tentacles of his unbridled emotional hangups." Blimey. You've turned me
into a target, Jervis. I don't mind. You can hardly pull the bow never
mind hit the bull. And you composed this psychological profile after
reading a few words of adverse criticism of your writing in newsgroups?
You're wasted here, Jervis. There's a niche for you on the cabaret cir-
cuit. The Great Suspendo. People will never believe it.
You're a good bloke, Jervis, I can tell, but you're a failure. And I bet
you wear your hair pulled back in a rubber band. I won't trouble to post
comments about your writing again. I'll leave you to look through your
rose coloured arses.
Syko
Glen Wall
news:yiYHAvAk...@omism.demon.co.uk...
The characterization was grotesquely mundane, the only tension held up
her bra and panties, and the writer is completely in the control of the
material he has so little to write about, but succeeds in writing that
little so long.
Dear Joe,
Can you see anything wrong with this sentence? I took it at
random from your foolish and insolent reply to my comments on The Swinger.
Let's just look at it a little more closely shall we, and see what we can
learn about its author? You kick off with an oxymoron that immediately
announces your profound ignorance of the English language : "grotesquely
mundane". Well now Joe, I'm sorry to have to be the one to break it to you,
truly I am, but the two words are virtually antonyms and it therefore
follows that anything which may be defined as "grotesque", is automatically
precluded from being "mundane". There, you see Joe - we've barely commenced
our analysis and already we've established that the author of these words is
a pigshit ignorant half-wit who uses words with no understanding of their
meaning. Now that, of itself, would be bad enough. Certainly it would
disqualify the writer from being taken seriously in a distinguished forum of
literary discussion such as alt.writing. But as I say Joe, we've hardly even
begun.
The next phrase to claim our attention is "the only tension held up her bra
and panties". Now, immediately we can see several errors in this
construction. The first and perhaps the most glaring error is of a
conceptual nature. The writer is attempting a humourous sally for which he
possesses neither the intelligence, nor the verbal dexterity. Consequently,
the phrase falls flat and its author is left looking extremely stupid. But
there's worse to come Joe - oh, yes, much worse! Not content with exposing
his feeble mind and complete absense of wit, the writer then proceeds to
demonstrate his truly stunning ineptitude when it comes to formulating
concepts : "the only tension held up her bra and panties". Pathetic, isn't
it Joe. What he meant to write, of course, was "the only apparent tension
was located in the elastic that held up her bra and panties". But being an
illiterate clod, this was naturally way beyond his abilities. Sad. You have
to ask yourself : why does a guy who utterly lacks even a basic command of
English want to make a fool of himself by attempting to write literary
criticism in a writer's forum? You may have an answer to that question Joe -
I'm damned if I do though. But I digress.
The next hilariously incompetent phrase he sets before us is : "and the
writer is completely in control of the material he has so little to write
about, but succeeds in writing that little so long". Now I must tell you
something honestly Joe. It was my original intention to dissect this
incredibly inept phrase and hold you up to further ridicule. But to be
perfectly frank with you, I'm not really sure that I have the stomach for
it. You see Joe, the truth is that I'm beginning to feel more than a little
sorry for you. There you are - a fellow with no brain or talent - who wants
to have his say in a writer's forum, no matter how stupid he ends up
looking. I guess you must be really desperate to make a bit of a mark, like
a talk show guest who is prepared to be utterly humiliated in exchange for a
little public exposure. Now there are some who laugh at such people, but I
think that's rather unkind Joe. Yes I do. So I'll tell you what I'm going to
do. I'm going to forget that you ever wrote such an atrociously moronic
phrase and I'll say no more about it. Not another word. I don't think I can
be fairer than that Joe. But I want you to make me a little promise in
exchange. Fair? I want you to swear to me that the members of this group
will never again be subjected to your ignorant, illiterate, brain-dead
scribbles. Is that reasonable Joe? Do we have a deal? I'll be waiting for
your reply - and make it a yes/no answer for the sake of everyone concerned.
Glen.
Rob Rinne
> Lordy lordy. I awake to be entertained by Jervis and his laundry list of
> little make-believe friends. He is obviously vying for title of best
> fiction writer on the newsgroup. But it will be a futile endeavor, as he
> doesn't have the right stuff.
>
> --Geno<best fiction writer on the newsgroup, besides Jensen>Royer
Good Morning, All,
I'm not sure what you mean by 'make believe friends' there, Geno, but
it seems to be you do not think my opinion of dear Jervis' work as being
genuine. I make no mistake in thinking that I am an intelligent man, but
I do know what I like.
And as far as you being the best fiction writer in the newsgroup, you
may well be right. I just haven't seen any proof of your skill. Is there
somewhere that I can read your work and make my own opinion.
Call it a challenge.
I have nothing to prove because I _know_ that _I'm_ a piss-poor writer.
Let's see how you do.
Then again, that post might have been a joke and I was taking this all
the wrong way.
Sincerely,
RARinne
daddio
wrote:
Hi again, R.A.,
No, you got it right. This chap desperately wants to kid himself into
thinking that you are aught but a figment of Jervis' own creation!
Certainly it confounds and terrifies such a veritable Custer of a
fellow, and he doesn't want to believe his eyes to discover in the
shock of a new dawn that this sorely beset lone warrior, in the end,
had benefit of a whole nation of braves lurking, waiting, making cousel
just the other side of the rise.
Gene Royer
daddio wrote in message <11f733ec...@usw-ex0107-042.remarq.com>...
Jervis, your make-believe buddy is obviously new here, and it shows. But
that notwithstanding, you're funny as hell. I crack up every time I open
one of your posts.
--Geno<but, I'm easily amused>Royer
Joe Sykes
<glen...@freenet.co.uk> writes
>The characterization was grotesquely mundane, the only tension held up
>her bra and panties, and the writer is completely in the control of the
>material he has so little to write about, but succeeds in writing that
>little so long.
>
>Dear Joe,
> Can you see anything wrong with this sentence?
Yes, I can. It's too snazzy for a grammar groper like you. 'Mundane',
here standing for 'ordinary'/'banal', is amplified by the incongruous
word 'grotesquely' in order to create an expressive phrase for effect.
Note: for effect. 'Ordinary' or 'banal' would have been sufficient to
make the point that I thought the characterisation was nothing special.
However, I wanted to emphasize that in my opinion the characterisation
was exceptionally 'ordinary' or grotesque in its utter ordinariness, to
contrast my opinion with yours, which went like this: "I thought the
characterisation was excellent." You are a dullard, as well as a fool.
No wonder you missed the obvious grammatical error.
>I took it at
>random from your foolish and insolent reply to my comments on The Swinger.
>Let's just look at it a little more closely shall we, and see what we can
>learn about its author? You kick off with an oxymoron that immediately
>announces your profound ignorance of the English language : "grotesquely
>mundane". Well now Joe, I'm sorry to have to be the one to break it to you,
>truly I am, but the two words are virtually antonyms and it therefore
>follows that anything which may be defined as "grotesque", is automatically
>precluded from being "mundane". There, you see Joe - we've barely commenced
>our analysis and already we've established that the author of these words is
>a pigshit ignorant half-wit who uses words with no understanding of their
>meaning. Now that, of itself, would be bad enough. Certainly it would
>disqualify the writer from being taken seriously in a distinguished forum of
>literary discussion such as alt.writing. But as I say Joe, we've hardly even
>begun.
Good heavens. Are you here to be taken seriously? As a grammarian? As a
literary critic? How sad. You're a dullard, a fool, and patently self-
abusing. Clearly your deficiencies have left you in a semantic limbo.
I feel for you, poor chap.
>The next phrase to claim our attention is "the only tension held up her bra
>and panties". Now, immediately we can see several errors in this
>construction. The first and perhaps the most glaring error is of a
>conceptual nature. The writer is attempting a humourous sally for which he
>possesses neither the intelligence, nor the verbal dexterity. Consequently,
>the phrase falls flat and its author is left looking extremely stupid. But
>there's worse to come Joe - oh, yes, much worse! Not content with exposing
>his feeble mind and complete absense of wit, the writer then proceeds to
>demonstrate his truly stunning ineptitude when it comes to formulating
>concepts : "the only tension held up her bra and panties". Pathetic, isn't
>it Joe. What he meant to write, of course, was "the only apparent tension
>was located in the elastic that held up her bra and panties". But being an
>illiterate clod, this was naturally way beyond his abilities. Sad. You have
>to ask yourself : why does a guy who utterly lacks even a basic command of
>English want to make a fool of himself by attempting to write literary
>criticism in a writer's forum? You may have an answer to that question Joe -
>I'm damned if I do though. But I digress.
I thought it rather a good joke, but I wouldn't waffle on about it in a
twenty line paragraph. You would, and look where it leaves you. Dullard,
fool, jerkoff, and humourless buffoon prancing in the spotlight. Whatever
makes you think I attempted to write literary criticism? I wrote one or
two comments about a bit of writing. You do puff yourself up, don't you?
I gather you believe that you provided literary criticism. May I refer
you to 'Practical Criticism: A Study in Literary Judgement'. (1929). A.
Richards? Are you in London? There are copies in the library at L.S.E.
You may write for a pass.
>The next hilariously incompetent phrase he sets before us is : "and the
>writer is completely in control of the material he has so little to write
>about, but succeeds in writing that little so long". Now I must tell you
>something honestly Joe. It was my original intention to dissect this
>incredibly inept phrase and hold you up to further ridicule. But to be
>perfectly frank with you, I'm not really sure that I have the stomach for
>it. You see Joe, the truth is that I'm beginning to feel more than a little
>sorry for you. There you are - a fellow with no brain or talent - who wants
>to have his say in a writer's forum, no matter how stupid he ends up
>looking. I guess you must be really desperate to make a bit of a mark, like
>a talk show guest who is prepared to be utterly humiliated in exchange for a
>little public exposure. Now there are some who laugh at such people, but I
>think that's rather unkind Joe. Yes I do. So I'll tell you what I'm going to
>do. I'm going to forget that you ever wrote such an atrociously moronic
>phrase and I'll say no more about it. Not another word. I don't think I can
>be fairer than that Joe. But I want you to make me a little promise in
>exchange. Fair? I want you to swear to me that the members of this group
>will never again be subjected to your ignorant, illiterate, brain-dead
>scribbles. Is that reasonable Joe? Do we have a deal? I'll be waiting for
>your reply - and make it a yes/no answer for the sake of everyone concerned.
>
Does look a little iffy, doesn't it? Out of context. WITH THE DEFINITE
ARTICLE REMOVED BY YOU. In the hope, I suppose, that readers would be
fooled by your underhand tactic. You're a dullard, a fool, a wanker, a
prancing, humourless buffoon and plainly dishonest. The sentence you've
just used as a platform for your extraordinary harangue is not the one I
wrote. Your attempted deception is so childlike in its execution among
adults that I have to wonder: Have you been a victim? Bullied perhaps? At
school? I shall feel awfully guilty if you have. I don't know your Usenet
history and I can't be bothered to look you up but I do hope I'm not add-
ing to your hurt by showing you up here, amongst your many friend.
Let's look at the sentence I wrote, in context:
You said, "and the resulting tensions (are) handled with the skill and
confidence of a fine writer who's absolutely in control of his material."
Laughable in itself, given dear old Jervis' complete abandon to the
influence of his Muse, but I restrained myself, and responded directly
by saying, "and the writer is completely in THE control of the material
he has so little to write about, but succeeds in writing that little so
long.". All right, I admit that last flourish is outrageous but, well, I
strive for effect. You, by stark contrast, strive for offence. I don't
mind that, but if this sort of deceitful argumentum is your usual MO,
then you're very, very stupid. I've been lurking for six months or so
in these writing/literature groups and most people seem honest, and far
more intelligent than you.
It would be better for you to remove misc.writing from the headers, I
think. I can only apologise for this intrusion to those good folk but
I made up my mind that when I delurked I would not interfere with set
crossposts. I'm sure there are protocols that apply but I make some
of my own rules. One of them, by the way, is to deal with twerps like
you decisively, and move on. I recommend you take the opportunity to
lick your wound, before it rots your mind, what little there is of it.
But if you want some more, I'm right here.
Syko
Deck Deckert
> In article <38400...@news2.cluster1.telinco.net>, Glen Wall
Please stop cross posting this discussion to misc.writing, a newsgroup
that does NOT encourage the posting of works for critique.
Deck
daddio
> newsgroup
> that does NOT encourage the posting of works for critique.
> Deck
It may be that the above sentence is not as plain, semantically, as it
might be. So, for the benefit of all, I will reword it so that its
meaning is unmistakably clear. Here follows the transliteration;
different text, same message....
"Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-NYAH-nyah-nyah-nyah, and boo-hoo,
boo-hoo, boo-hoo, boo-boo. Nyah-nyah!"
Get the message?
--
Jervis
Anopheles
> much they liked his piece.
>
I think I see how that works? Lori is worth any two other women on this
group, right?
Hey! That ain't my opinion so stop throwing rocks.
Anopheles
Glen Wall
Oh, dear me Joe - I haven't laughed so much in years ! Many thanks for
providing my Muse and me with such splendid entertainment. Regrettably,
we're going out to dinner in a few minutes so my reply must necessarily be
brief, but I wanted to thank you before we left. If there's anything funnier
than watching an illiterate oaf self-consciously attempting to construct
grammatically correct sentences, then I have yet to discover it. That your
attempts were in vain is scarcely to be wondered at, but I suppose you
deserve some sort of credit for making them at all. Neither of us could make
any sense whatsoever of your clumsy ramblings but that's allright Joe - you
know what you mean !
Now, you wrote "But if you want some more, I'm right here". Well Joe, having
already been so richly entertained by your hilarious literary pratfalls,
this strikes me as an extraordinarily generous offer. I expect that we shall
return in 3 or 4 hours time, and to find another of your richly comic
offerings waiting for us would just round off the evening perfectly. So the
answer is an unequivocal "YES PLEASE!". We'll take all you've got !
Glen.
PS : I.A. Richards wrote, "Practical Criticism", although I can't imagine
that you would have much success in following his arguments.
Joe Sykes
<glen...@freenet.co.uk> writes
>Oh, dear me Joe - I haven't laughed so much in years !
Nonsense, you silly man. You haven't been so humiliated in years. You're
so stupid you think no one will be aware that you are disingenuous, and
really rather pathetic.
>Many thanks for
>providing my Muse and me with such splendid entertainment.
You try terrible hard, but you remain a foolish, deflated figure. Your,
er, Muse will no doubt blow you up later, or blow up even, should you
prick her. Take comfort in the fact that entertainment is indeed your
lot from now on. You and your Muse. You and your cheap tricks - altering
text to change your protagonist's meaning, buttering up vulnerable old
codgers like Jervis, producing your grammatically correct Word docs.,
picking on shy newbies like me.
> Regrettably,
>we're going out to dinner in a few minutes so my reply must necessarily be
>brief, but I wanted to thank you before we left. If there's anything funnier
>than watching an illiterate oaf self-consciously attempting to construct
>grammatically correct sentences, then I have yet to discover it.
Curious. I hardly bother, never mind self-consciously attempt to con-
struct grammatically correct sentences, and I suppose it shows. Please
do take the time to parse each of my sentences as they appear before
you. I'm sure you'll draw a crowd. Unfortunately for you, my sentences
are sufficiently grammatical to whup your sorry ass, as they say. Why on
earth are you so anally fixated, I wonder. What is the purpose of your
vigilance in this matter? Even the poor are being given PCs, you know,
and soon enough there'll be a multitude of 'New Grammarians' like you,
all shouting the odds, safe in the knowledge that a machine has given
them entree into the world of 'literature'. At least Jervis cracks on
off his own bat, scattering superfluous apostrophes, splitting apart
infinitives, and generally regurgitating the moving feast of his days
as a cool hipster on the scene, man.
> That your
>attempts were in vain is scarcely to be wondered at, but I suppose you
>deserve some sort of credit for making them at all. Neither of us could make
>any sense whatsoever of your clumsy ramblings but that's allright Joe - you
>know what you mean !
More bluster. And what is that space before the exclamation mark about?
Have you misunderstood what it means to add them 'loosely' onto those
interjections formed by more than one word? I rather think you have.
How odd too that you end all your paragraphs with interjections. Wait
a minute! You did a correspondence course, didn't you? Oh my god, how
feahfully embarrassing. I'm so sorry. THAT'S why you spell 'alright'
with two Ls. You poor chap. The construction is properly 'all right'
but it has become vulgarised and accepted in usage as 'alright'. It is
never 'allright'. I'm so sorry to humiliate you further like this, but
really, you do ask for it, you know.
>
>Now, you wrote "But if you want some more, I'm right here". Well Joe, having
>already been so richly entertained by your hilarious literary pratfalls,
>this strikes me as an extraordinarily generous offer. I expect that we shall
>return in 3 or 4 hours time, and to find another of your richly comic
>offerings waiting for us would just round off the evening perfectly. So the
>answer is an unequivocal "YES PLEASE!". We'll take all you've got !
I love the way you keep trying to give the impression that you and your
Muse are off to have dinner that will keep you out until midnight, like
real people. You're a fool, but you don't care who knows it, eh? Jolly
good.
>PS : I.A. Richards wrote, "Practical Criticism",
That's right. I missed out the 'I'. Not sure what is your point. I've
read the work from cover to cover. Full title is, as I wrote, 'Practical
Criticism: a study of literary judgement.' A vital influence on a cer-
tain school of contemporary London writers. There'll be another one here
soon. It's Demon's Turnpike package - turns Usenet into a playground. I
digress.
>although I can't imagine that you would have much success in following
his arguments.
You have no idea what Richards' ideas were about, have you? You're a
correspondence-course, encyclopaedia-owning, secondary-modern-educated,
semiliterate wanker. And you write all your posts on writing software
with the Grammar Checker in overdrive, don't you? Which is why you keep
saying my sentences are ungrammatical but you are completely unable to
demonstrate why. Pathetic, pitiable fool. I'm reminded of a bloke that
I drove over to Oxford on the A413. Kept complaining that my driving was
dangerous but couldn't explain why. Shitting himself didn't hack it. So
you should start wearing sanitary underwear, you're in for a bumpy ride.
Richards endorsed irony, ambiguity, adventurous complexities in sentence
structure and allusiveness. His ideas opened up the way for Modernism.
He influenced scholars like Empson and Leavis. He left Cambridge for
Harvard soon after publishing the work in question, and there greatly
influenced educationalists and linguists, an influence that remains.
Richards' arguments which you are implying would defeat me are not those
contained in 'Practical Criticism: a study of literary judgement'. You
are misled by the word 'criticism'. To make your useless point you
should have referred to Richards' 'Principles of Literary Criticism'.
The discipline of literary criticism requires a thorough knowledge of
and understanding about writers at work, and the literary critic has
to be educated in the tradition of great literature, to earn the re-
pect of artists. Passing odd comments about piddling bits of dreary
'writing' in a newsgroup is hardly to be compared. Doesn't stop you,
though.
I look forward to your next excursion. With your Muse. Oh my god. You
probably have a name for it. Eouw.
Syko
Joe Sykes
>In misc.writing Joe Sykes <Sy...@omism.demon.co.uk> wrote:
>> In article <38400...@news2.cluster1.telinco.net>, Glen Wall
>
>Please stop cross posting this discussion to misc.writing, a newsgroup
>that does NOT encourage the posting of works for critique.
>
>Deck
Apology the best I can do, old chap. Won't change someone else's header.
One of my rules. Outweighs the one of yours, I'm afraid. Why can't you
just killfile it? No one has apologised to me for the interminable guff
going on in misc.writing about a moderated group. And no, I don't use
a killfile. Another one of my rules. I do use my intellectual powers to
their fullest, though. Only read what interests me. Like buying books. I
only buy what interests me. Sorry. I ignore the rest. I wonder why you
don't do the same. Ignore the thread, I mean, not not buy a book.
Syko
Glen Wall
> In article <38406...@news2.cluster1.telinco.net>, Glen Wall
> <glen...@freenet.co.uk> writes
>
> >Oh, dear me Joe - I haven't laughed so much in years !
>
> Nonsense, you silly man. You haven't been so humiliated in years.
Keep repeating a thing for long enough Joe and eventually you'll end up
believing it !
You're
> so stupid you think no one will be aware that you are disingenuous, and
> really rather pathetic.
> >Many thanks for
> >providing my Muse and me with such splendid entertainment.
>
> You try terrible hard, but you remain a foolish, deflated figure.
Far from needing to try "terribly hard", dealing with a red-nosed clown like
yourself requires less effort than it takes to swat a mosquito.
Your,
> er, Muse will no doubt blow you up later, or blow up even, should you
> prick her.
Oh I like that one Joe. How extraordinarily witty you are! It must be at
least a fortnight since Traci last posted that joke.
Take comfort in the fact that entertainment is indeed your
> lot from now on. You and your Muse. You and your cheap tricks - altering
> text to change your protagonist's meaning,
I've never deliberately altered any text that I've quoted. What would be the
point? - especially in the case of your own sentence which made no more
sense when it included the word that I accidentally omitted. Rather than
whine about the misrepresentation of your infantile prose, you would do
better to borrow a dictionary and look up the meaning of the word
"protagonist". It certainly does not apply to the likes of you. You are no
more than a bit-player.
>buttering up vulnerable old
> codgers like Jervis,
Why would I want to do that? I enjoy his work and respect his talent. No
more and no less.
>producing your grammatically correct Word docs.,
> picking on shy newbies like me.
*extending paper tissue for poor Joe to snivel into*
> > Regrettably,
> >we're going out to dinner in a few minutes so my reply must necessarily
be
> >brief, but I wanted to thank you before we left. If there's anything
funnier
> >than watching an illiterate oaf self-consciously attempting to construct
> >grammatically correct sentences, then I have yet to discover it.
> Curious. I hardly bother, never mind self-consciously attempt to con-
> struct grammatically correct sentences, and I suppose it shows.
Is Paris a city?
Please
> do take the time to parse each of my sentences as they appear before
> you. I'm sure you'll draw a crowd. Unfortunately for you, my sentences
> are sufficiently grammatical to whup your sorry ass, as they say.
You talk in your sleep then Joe?
Why on
> earth are you so anally fixated, I wonder. What is the purpose of your
> vigilance in this matter?
In a word, entertainment. It is a matter of the most sublime indifference to
me that you are constitutionally incapable of formulating an elegant
sentence. The amusing thing here is your furious reaction to having your
mistakes gently pointed out to you.
Even the poor are being given PCs, you know,
> and soon enough there'll be a multitude of 'New Grammarians' like you,
> all shouting the odds, safe in the knowledge that a machine has given
> them entree into the world of 'literature'.
It seems to be working for you anyway Joe. Even literature must have its
clowns. But you're absolutely right ; what an absurd notion it is that
writers should pay attention to something as tiresome as grammar!
At least Jervis cracks on
> off his own bat, scattering superfluous apostrophes, splitting apart
> infinitives, and generally regurgitating the moving feast of his days
> as a cool hipster on the scene, man.
> > That your
> >attempts were in vain is scarcely to be wondered at, but I suppose you
> >deserve some sort of credit for making them at all. Neither of us could
make
> >any sense whatsoever of your clumsy ramblings but that's allright Joe -
you
> >know what you mean !
>
> More bluster. And what is that space before the exclamation mark about?
> Have you misunderstood what it means to add them 'loosely' onto those
> interjections formed by more than one word? I rather think you have.
> How odd too that you end all your paragraphs with interjections. Wait
> a minute! You did a correspondence course, didn't you? Oh my god, how
> feahfully embarrassing. I'm so sorry. THAT'S why you spell 'alright'
> with two Ls. You poor chap. The construction is properly 'all right'
> but it has become vulgarised and accepted in usage as 'alright'. It is
> never 'allright'. I'm so sorry to humiliate you further like this, but
> really, you do ask for it, you know.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz............................
> >Now, you wrote "But if you want some more, I'm right here". Well Joe,
having
> >already been so richly entertained by your hilarious literary pratfalls,
> >this strikes me as an extraordinarily generous offer. I expect that we
shall
> >return in 3 or 4 hours time, and to find another of your richly comic
> >offerings waiting for us would just round off the evening perfectly. So
the
> >answer is an unequivocal "YES PLEASE!". We'll take all you've got !
>
> I love the way you keep trying to give the impression that you and your
> Muse are off to have dinner that will keep you out until midnight, like
> real people.
Until half-past eleven actually, and we were most dissapointed not to have a
further sample of your illiterate scribblings to chuckle at before the wine
wore off.
You're a fool, but you don't care who knows it, eh? Jolly
> good.
>
> >PS : I.A. Richards wrote, "Practical Criticism",
>
> That's right. I missed out the 'I'. Not sure what is your point. I've
> read the work from cover to cover.
From cover to cover, eh Joe. My, what a clever fellow you must be! I won't
ask how much of it you understood.
Full title is, as I wrote, 'Practical
> Criticism: a study of literary judgement.' A vital influence on a cer-
> tain school of contemporary London writers. There'll be another one here
> soon. It's Demon's Turnpike package - turns Usenet into a playground. I
> digress.
>
> >although I can't imagine that you would have much success in following
> his arguments.
>
> You have no idea what Richards' ideas were about, have you?
The Meaning of Meaning?
>You're a
> correspondence-course, encyclopaedia-owning, secondary-modern-educated,
> semiliterate wanker.
And you're a hilarious fantasist who could give the drunken Anopheles a run
for his money.
>And you write all your posts on writing software
> with the Grammar Checker in overdrive, don't you?
Outlook Express doesn't have a spell-checker, never mind a grammar-checker
(no need for capitals Joe).
Which is why you keep
> saying my sentences are ungrammatical but you are completely unable to
> demonstrate why.
Well Joe, the second "you" in the above sentence is redundant for starters.
I demonstrated quite clearly exactly what was wrong with your grammar in my
penultimate post to you. After expending several paragraphs in elucidating
the juvenile solecisms to be found in a single sentence of yours, I got
bored and gave it up as a bad job. but just imagine what I could have found,
had I chosen to dissect your entire post ! Fortunately, I have better
amusements.
>Pathetic, pitiable fool.
Silly mistakes, it's true. But you can still take remedial English classes.
It's never too late to learn Joe !
I'm reminded of a bloke that
> I drove over to Oxford on the A413. Kept complaining that my driving was
> dangerous but couldn't explain why. Shitting himself didn't hack it.
Is that right Joe? Fascinating ! Soon you'll be rivalling the legendary Lori
Dee Crews as alt.writing's foremost purveyor of unsolicited personal trivia.
>So you should start wearing sanitary underwear, you're in for a bumpy ride.
You know, I'd already decided that you'd make an excellent court jester for
alt.writing, and comments like that demonstrate just how right I was ! 7
kilobytes of bad tempered spluttering don't add up to a flame unfortunately.
Successful invective requires a level of intelligence and imagination that's
so far above your head you would need lunar binoculars to catch even a
fleeting glimpse of it. You say you're a "newbie" Joe. Well, let me give you
some free advice. Keep your coarse mouth shut for a while and take a look
around to see what goes on here. You'll find that the worth of flames is
judged by their intrinsic wit and intelligence, qualities which you
singularly lack, and not by the amount of irritable bluster and hot air they
contain. In less than 24 hours you have managed to make a complete fool of
yourself and parade your truly astonishing ignorance in such an importunate
manner that it's likely to stick in folk's memories for a good while. You're
obviously an impetuous sort of fellow, and I'll lay odds that this isn't be
the first time you've ended up with egg on your face. My advice to you is to
take your flamethrower somewhere nice and quiet like alt.knitting, and
practice for a while on the harmless old grannies who hang out there.
They'll probably take pity on you and give you an easy ride when they reply
to your limp efforts. When you begin to get the hang of it you can come back
and have another go. You won't do any better, because you're simply not
bright enough to compose effective polemic - but at least you will have
tried, and, more importantly, furnished everyone with some first-rate
entertainment into the bargain!
> Richards endorsed irony, ambiguity, adventurous complexities in sentence
> structure and allusiveness.
Just as well he was spared the sight of your kindergarten efforts then, eh
Joe?
His ideas opened up the way for Modernism.
> He influenced scholars like Empson and Leavis. He left Cambridge for
> Harvard soon after publishing the work in question, and there greatly
> influenced educationalists and linguists, an influence that remains.
"an influence that remains". Now why does that whole paragraph sound exactly
as though it was copied out from the Oxford Companion to English Literature,
or some such volume?
> Richards' arguments which you are implying would defeat me are not those
> contained in 'Practical Criticism: a study of literary judgement'. You
> are misled by the word 'criticism'.
In fact, as is usually the case, you are misled by your half-witted
assumptions. As it happens I was amusing myself by trying to imagine what,
if anything, you would make of Richard's critique of Wallace Stevens.
To make your useless point you
> should have referred to Richards' 'Principles of Literary Criticism'.
> The discipline of literary criticism requires a thorough knowledge of
> and understanding about writers at work, and the literary critic has
> to be educated in the tradition of great literature, to earn the re-
> pect of artists.
Never mind Joe. I hear McDonald's are looking for staff.
Passing odd comments about piddling bits of dreary
> 'writing' in a newsgroup is hardly to be compared. Doesn't stop you,
> though.
Or you either, it would seem.
> I look forward to your next excursion. With your Muse. Oh my god. You
> probably have a name for it. Eouw.
> Syko
My Muse is Nemesis now and her sign is carved upon your forehead.
Your serve!
Glen.
PS : I'd be grateful if you could maintain your newly self-imposed
grammatical constraints for the duration of our correspondence. The result
is even more hilarious than your natural style of scribbling !
Gene Royer
Joe Sykes wrote in message ...
>In article <81pcft$122e$2...@news.gate.net>, Deck Deckert
><de...@seminole.gate.net> writes
>
>>In misc.writing Joe Sykes <Sy...@omism.demon.co.uk> wrote:
>>that does NOT encourage the posting of works for critique.
>>
>>Deck
>
>Apology the best I can do, old chap. Won't change someone else's header.
>just killfile it? No one has apologised to me for the interminable guff
>going on in misc.writing about a moderated group. And no, I don't use
>a killfile. Another one of my rules. I do use my intellectual powers to
>their fullest, though. Only read what interests me. Like buying books. I
>only buy what interests me. Sorry. I ignore the rest. I wonder why you
>don't do the same. Ignore the thread, I mean, not not buy a book.
>
>Syko
Good point Syko.
Deckert, who has never posted anything on topic in his life. is one of the
greatest cross-posting Policemen MW has ever seen.
--Geno<always on topic>Royer
Joe Sykes
<sir...@mindspring.com> writes
>Deckert, who has never posted anything on topic in his life. is one of the
>greatest cross-posting Policemen MW has ever seen.
It's the high salaries, I shouldn't wonder, and the chance of promotion.
>--Geno<always on topic>Royer
Now look here, Royer, I may be fresh out of the Usenet lurk pool but it
doesn't mean you can pull the whirl over my eyes. There is plenny of
evidence in the archive that your interpretation of the 'topic' is not
as it might be. Why, didn't I see a lengthy disquisition from you on the
Lesser Domestic Grimalkin (North American) hardly a month old? Or was
that Joan Rivers? Deja.com is absolutely overwhelmed with MWM dispatches
so I may have swooned momentarily as I ploughed through them all, but I
could have sworn it was you.
Syko
Steve Pritchard
daddio wrote in message <09920fb9...@usw-ex0107-041.remarq.com>...
>Ordinarily, I would have let a heartless, meaningless, useless, one
>word response like this slip by, but in the interest of seeing this
>piece given a fair chance, lest such a response as this, and that by
>Royer should poison the potential appreciation of others; i.e. in the
>event that these two should be offering their discouraging words out of
>somewhat less than laudable motives, I offer that as a possibility; as
>for example plain, pure suck up to the MW ("don't post your stories
>here") hostility--well, then I just thought that potential motive
>should made clear. There is the third possibility, the most abysmal of
>the lot, which is the sort of knee-jerk response of dweebs seeking
>favor and esteem in the sight of their absurd peers through the means
>of plain meanness directed at the perceived sort of 'outgroup person'.
99.9% of the folks who post here adhere to the rules, Jervis.
You are an asshole and believe that if you "buck the system" it makes you
special.
It does not. It makes you a bigger asshole.
(Cue a "mob mentality" post any minute now)
Steve Pritchard
daddio wrote in message <0a0133f8...@usw-ex0107-041.remarq.com>...
>In article <81m09o$1pt$1...@nntp3.atl.mindspring.net>, "Gene Royer"
>I say that
>anyone, anyone at all could read this story and enjoy it.
I read it and I didn't enjoy it.
I demand a refund.
>That's what I'm saying about
>you, Royer. I'm saying that you are a silly twit and a suckup to the
>esteem of your peers; a nothing and a nobody, a gutless, soulless,
>heartless, pathetic putrid turd on the grass of life. Now, how's that
>suit you?
Geno sucks up to his peers? Now I *know* you are a clueless asshole.
Steve Pritchard
daddio wrote in message <0a0133f8...@usw-ex0101-003.remarq.com>...
>I called this man "a bald-faced liar".
He is not. He has a moustache.
Steve Pritchard
daddio wrote in message <000b8d9b...@usw-ex0107-041.remarq.com>...
>On Fri, 26 Nov 1999 13:35:13 -0800, daddio <dadd...@yifan.net> wrote:
>I have just received an email from a person in this group who tells me
>how much she _definitely_ liked this piece.
Whichever one of the groups you deliberately crosspost your dross to is
classified as "this group", I'm glad I'm not subscribed to it.
Steve Pritchard
Archon wrote in message <383F72F2...@worldnet.att.net>...
>I agree with Glen.
>
>Sincerely,
>A Lazy Critic
>
>P.S.
>I'd pay to read your stuff.
You have my pity, but can you agree with the statement without a
crosspost?
Steve Pritchard
Stephen G. Esrati wrote in message <383FE310...@earthlink.net>...
>What ever happened to the rule that we do NOT post our writing here.
Jervis is a special case. If he flaunts the rule it shows what an
individual he is.
Or maybe he's just an asshole.
Kurt Ullman
Pritchard" <st...@spelbind.demon.co.uk> wrote:
>Geno sucks up to his peers? Now I *know* you are a clueless asshole.
>
>
Definite newbie. It is well established that Geno has no peers....
-----------------------------------------------
Do you earn money in some fashion that doesn't demand your asking if the people facing you want fries?
Pastorio on misc.writing
Kurt Ullman
Gee another "stealth" compliment. I would have expected that earlier in this round.
Prince Richard Kaminski
Steve Pritchard wrote:
> daddio wrote in message <0a0133f8...@usw-ex0107-041.remarq.com>...
> >In article <81m09o$1pt$1...@nntp3.atl.mindspring.net>, "Gene Royer"
> >I say that
> >anyone, anyone at all could read this story and enjoy it.
>
> I read it and I didn't enjoy it.
Please don't post critiques of work here, Steve. It's against the Posting
Guidelines.
Any further infringements from you will be dealt with by mass mailbombing,
biological weapons, and nuclear holocaust.
daddio
<ste...@earthlink.net> wrote:
> What ever happened to the rule that we do NOT post our writing
> here.
But, Stevie Baby! You Brian Denehy looking fascist in an Israeli Irgun
soldier suit. We do NOT pay attention to any Nazi jackboot RULES around
here anymore, since Superjew Jervis arrived. You diggy, daddy?
> By the way, I hated the writing sample for what that's worth.
I'll tell you what unconstructive "criticism" like that is worth,
soldier-boy. It ain't worth bootblack wax frosting on your jack-apple
crap. Not ever since I got a look at the kind of dead sperm stinking
emission we see coming from YOUR pen, such hyper-generated testosterone
stinking slime as this....
"Testiness was uncharacteristic of Bowles, but the fear of being unable
to walk was overpowering..."
Translation for the unconscious content: Fear of being able to write.
Fear of being unable to screw.
"A bad temper would not have helped him become president of his class
at Piqua Senior High School..."
Translation: A man who spends his literary effort rationalizing his
out-of-control hatebag anger; like, well, how could I be such a
sadistic pig if I was class president? I'll tell you how Monsieur
Marquis de Sade Jr. Social schtupping climbing squares like you who
carry their brains in a jock strap are always the jive-asses who go for
that high status control over others. Who do you think you're kidding?
And who do you think you're jammin' with, schmuck?
"..or to be named Ohio State's varsity quarterback at the end of his
freshman year."
Ha-ha! See why this nutcup "hates" Jervis? Hoo baby! This pathetic
schlamiel was BORN to hate me because he knows I never stop laughing at
hyper-macho types like him. Yeah, guys like you Stevie-Dweebie. Uh-huh,
you see me here laughing, specifically at YOU, who we can watch as you
go prancing down main street in your Sumo wrestling diapers thinking
you're cool.
"Nor would he have got along so well with talent agents and
choreographers when he danced in the "Andy Hardy" movies." From this
Pest Control Man out of Men in Black's novel on the web page, as
referenced below.
Yow! A quarter-back who dances in the Andy Hardy movies - when he
isn't busy blowing up the King David Hotel in Jerusalem. What did I
tell you! What did I say?
Ha-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Wow.
While I am never envy sick enough to "hate" what someone else writes, I
can recognize the consciousness of a total hatebag of an obsessive
badcop-brained perenniel Sam Brown belt wearing SQUARE when I see it.
Goddam. When is this guy gonna slip out of that fake human skin
stretched over his anatomy and show us the bug tentacles and antennae
underneath? No man, don't tell me this guy is a Jew! A soldier of
fortune maybe who lied himself off to Menachem Begin, maybe but no damn
Jew. But then Judah and his hairy bastard brothers were Jews, weren't
they? Uh huh. Just call me Joseph.
--
Jervis
> Glen Wall wrote:
> >
> >
> > What a delightful surprise then, to find a perceptive and
> amusing study of
> > jealousy
> --
> Stephen G. Esrati
> Author of COMRADES, AVENGE US, the gripping page-turner about a
> hunt by GI
> victims for the Nazi war criminals who mutilated them for life. It
> is available
> from me for $7.50, postpaid.
> Read about it at:
> http://members.tripod.com/~ShibaHill/comrade.html
> PO Box 20130
> Shaker Heights, OH 44120
> (216) 561-9393
* Sent from RemarQ http://www.remarq.com The Internet's Discussion Network *
Wendy Chatley Green
:In article <383FE310...@earthlink.net>, "Stephen G. Esrati"
:<ste...@earthlink.net> wrote:
:> What ever happened to the rule that we do NOT post our writing
:> here.
:> Let's have a moderated news group.
:
:But, Stevie Baby! You Brian Denehy looking fascist in an Israeli Irgun
:soldier suit. We do NOT pay attention to any Nazi jackboot RULES around
:here anymore, since Superjew Jervis arrived. You diggy, daddy?
"We", in this case, means Jervis/daddio/whatever other
pseudonyms this poster may use.
Other posters, those known for their manners and intelligence
(and their greater chance of real fame and fortune, as opposed to the
self-proclaimed sort), don't post their work to misc.writing.
If you want field markings for the net kook, use the
following:
--Pays no attention to the culture of a newsgroup
--Is very self-referential
--Has a myriad of supporters, none of whom are available to
back up the net kook at any given present moment
--Is convinced of its own superiority
--Is incapable of true dialogue with others, although it often
can ape conversation for a short time (until one of its many buttons
are pushed)
--Often uses multiple personas without noting such usage
--Often changes its name to avoid killfiles and filters
--Craves attention of any sort
Net kooks can be entertaining, which is why we haven't
exterminated them all. Enjoy, but don't get too close; they tend to
fling crap in all directions.
--
Wendy Chatley Green
wcg...@cris.com
daddio
Oh. Uh-huh. Yah, mein lieber fraulein, and thus we see how it is that
every time a Netcop's authority is shown for the chimera of pure
virtual imagination it is, that Netcop/NetNazi gets out her propaganda,
her stigma list on the subject of NetJews or i.e. metaphorically
speaking, "kooks". Kike, kook, what's the difference to a member of the
KKK like you, the Ku Kook Klan. That's what you got up there, a KKK
propaganda sheet; it reads like any poster by Joseph Goebbels on the
the subject of the Social Democrat Jewish journalists in the Reich who
raised a middle finger to the power of the fascist authority freaks,
like you fair frau.
Zo! See my salute!! Sieg Heil to your imaginary Cyber Reich of which
you are of course der Fuerher.
But while you enjoy the frills and thrills of your fake power, dig
this: There is no human behavior that is lower than the technique of
scapegoating. Maybe you never took a course in sociology; maybe you
just plain barefoot and ignorant, baby, but once its been recognized
for what it is, it doesn't work anymore because people remember how all
that worked before. People don;t like being made the dupes of such
cheap tactics. And they don't like being terrorized into fearful
conformity under threat of your KKK stigma. When you say "net-kook",
you say "net-kike", and when you say "net-kike" you have the stink of
Auschwitz coming from your skirts, lady.
And dig further. I didn't say you were a literal Jew-baiter. No. I
said it is the same thing in intent and technique whether the intended
target is "kike" or "kook". I'm saying it is precisely your sort who
become the women in black with whips at Treblinka and Buchenwald.
Therefore know that I am always and forever your sworn enemy.
--
Jervis
Now. Go take a bath, girl you smell like burnt hair.
>
> --
> Wendy Chatley Green
> wcg...@cris.com
* Sent from RemarQ http://www.remarq.com The Internet's Discussion Network *
daddio
<Sy...@omism.demon.co.uk> wrote:
> You're a "Glen Wall", [expletives deleted], and if I ever see you
> anywhere
> else on Usenet I happen to visit, I'll piss all over you again.
> Syko
Nah, ain't enough pressure behind all that, Backdoor Joe, you just
dribbling all over yourself, walkin' with it in your shoes. Squish,
squish, squish. Glen, hearkening to his better sense has moved on from
this by the looks of it. You might profit by the same decision. How
much time in the world is there really to waste on stuff that just
ain't goin' nowhere?
--
Jervis
Kwrect
Joe Sykes <Sy...@omism.demon.co.uk> wrote in message
a most insightful critique. My lose is that he could not finish the piece.
I'd like to have seen what not to do for the rest as well.
Thank you.
--
"Between subtle shading and the absence of light lies the nuance of iqlusion
[sic]." CIA
Joe Sykes
<glen...@freenet.co.uk> writes
>> >Oh, dear me Joe - I haven't laughed so much in years !
>>
>> Nonsense, you silly man. You haven't been so humiliated in years.
>
>Keep repeating a thing for long enough Joe and eventually you'll end up
>believing it !
>
Goodness me, "Glen Wall", I come home from a long day, and night, in the
salt mines and here you are, still bluffing it out, and puffing it up.
I better tidy up the thing, it's starting to look like your mind. We're
making a nuisance of ourselves as it is, but that's Jervis' fault, his
original sin. I'll snip << all your whistling in the dark, eh? Give you
a break. I see you keep on with that truly silly exclamation mark left
floating there, a distant balloon in silhouette. What a bold innovation.
<<
>Far from needing to try "terribly hard", dealing with a red-nosed clown
>like yourself requires less effort than it takes to swat a mosquito.
Dear me, a master stroke: ascribing physical characteristics to a few
lines of text. See the choice of words in my phrase above and learn how
it's done. I don't know if you're fat, thin, ugly, bald or pimply, or all
of the above. You need to bolster your ego, I understand that, but you
really should make an effort to retain a measure of self-respect.
<<
> Take comfort in the fact that entertainment is indeed your
>> lot from now on. You and your Muse. You and your cheap tricks - altering
>> text to change your protagonist's meaning,
>
>I've never deliberately altered any text that I've quoted. What would be the
>point? - especially in the case of your own sentence which made no more
>sense when it included the word that I accidentally omitted. Rather than
>whine about the misrepresentation of your infantile prose, you would do
>better to borrow a dictionary and look up the meaning of the word
>"protagonist". It certainly does not apply to the likes of you. You are no
>more than a bit-player.
>
Of course you didn't deliberately alter it, old thing. No, and you
didn't accidentally omit it, either. What you did was render it wrongly
in transcription because you're a klutz. What I did was lead you by the
nose to the pretty pass you now find yourself in; so eager were you to
bash out any kind of adverse comment about my prose that you eagerly
reacted to your first impression of what you thought you saw. Now you
have to further disparage my writing in a forlorn bid to salvage some-
thing of what little pride you have left. Too late, old chum, you're being
wrung out like a dishcloth, and what's more it's being done in prose
that you can only dream of emulating because your fixation prevents you
from unclenching your buttocks long enough to take a good long look
outside at the real world where you know you'll never find acceptance
because you're a thuddingly obvious bore.
The word 'protagonist' in modern usage is applied to a participant in an
event. You only make yourself look more foolish by favouring the Greek.
You are nothing more than the other person in this barney. Puffing up
your self-image is playing into my hands. I couldn't have invented a
more spectacular debut than to have you as a whipping boy. And you're
so accommodating.
>
>>buttering up vulnerable old
>> codgers like Jervis,
>
>
>Why would I want to do that? I enjoy his work and respect his talent. No
>more and no less.
>
Balls. You enjoy the opportunity to wheedle your way into the broken
heart of an innocent traveller in order to manipulate the poor old sod
into a show of camaraderie, a camaraderie that he convinces himself has
the worth of shared intellectual understanding because you say, "you
enjoy his work and respect his talent." I've read two of his pieces, one
in these newsgroups, and I found neither to my liking, and said so. You
skimmed through the last one and posted an endorsement to suit your own
purposes. Serves you right it's getting you a good spanking from me.
<<
>>producing your grammatically correct Word docs.,
>> picking on shy newbies like me.
>
>
>*extending paper tissue for poor Joe to snivel into*
>
Thanks. Wait while I wipe my arse. Here, let me rub your face in it. Ta
Daa!
You are such a straight man, "Glen Wall". The audience applaud the star
turn and you stand their shuffling your feet looking used.
<<
> If there's anything
>funnier
>> >than watching an illiterate oaf self-consciously attempting to construct
>> >grammatically correct sentences, then I have yet to discover it.
>
>
>> Curious. I hardly bother, never mind self-consciously attempt to con-
>> struct grammatically correct sentences, and I suppose it shows.
>
>
>Is Paris a city?
>
Are you a pedant? Ta Daa!
>
>Please
>> do take the time to parse each of my sentences as they appear before
>> you. I'm sure you'll draw a crowd. Unfortunately for you, my sentences
>> are sufficiently grammatical to whup your sorry ass, as they say.
>
>You talk in your sleep then Joe?
>
So I'm told. You'll never know if you do, will you? Or is your Muse wired?
>Why on
>> earth are you so anally fixated, I wonder. What is the purpose of your
>> vigilance in this matter?
>
>In a word, entertainment. It is a matter of the most sublime indifference to
>me that you are constitutionally incapable of formulating an elegant
>sentence. The amusing thing here is your furious reaction to having your
>mistakes gently pointed out to you.
I couldn't be less furious if I was talking in my sleep. I wonder why it
is that you keep on about what is of absolutely no importance to me:
your opinion of my sentences. My SENTENCES, I ask you. You're trying to
convince me that you're entertained by reiteration of your complaints in
every post you make to me? You're ill.
>
>Even the poor are being given PCs, you know,
>> and soon enough there'll be a multitude of 'New Grammarians' like you,
>> all shouting the odds, safe in the knowledge that a machine has given
>> them entree into the world of 'literature'.
>
>It seems to be working for you anyway Joe. Even literature must have its
>clowns. But you're absolutely right ; what an absurd notion it is that
>writers should pay attention to something as tiresome as grammar!
>
I agree with you. I think writers should pay attention to grammar. Is
there a point to your observation? Writing is like any other profession.
You do it well, you make a few quid. It costs two hundred and eighty
pounds a day to hire me, four hundred if we throw in my side-kick, and
we're cheap. This year I wrote maybe six hundred words, all told, for
money. Did a lot of talking, had lots of ideas, and added points to the
stock value of businesses I mostly abhor. I only work when I have to and
I don't have to all that often. Why would I care what a duffer like you
thinks of my SENTENCES in newsgroups on Usenet. I LIKE doing you, prof,
you're a gift. I feel really guilty about Jervis, though, and I'll never
touch him again. But you're the usual suspect, my friend, and you're in
over your head. Worse, I know you have a Muse.
<<
> Neither of us could
>make
>> >any sense whatsoever of your clumsy ramblings but that's allright Joe -
>you
>> >know what you mean !
>>
>> More bluster. And what is that space before the exclamation mark about?
>> Have you misunderstood what it means to add them 'loosely' onto those
>> interjections formed by more than one word? I rather think you have.
>> How odd too that you end all your paragraphs with interjections. Wait
>> a minute! You did a correspondence course, didn't you? Oh my god, how
>> feahfully embarrassing. I'm so sorry. THAT'S why you spell 'alright'
>> with two Ls. You poor chap. The construction is properly 'all right'
>> but it has become vulgarised and accepted in usage as 'alright'. It is
>> never 'allright'. I'm so sorry to humiliate you further like this, but
>> really, you do ask for it, you know.
>
>
>ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz............................
>
That's got to work. People will definitely think you fell asleep, not that
you fell apart.
<<
>> I love the way you keep trying to give the impression that you and your
>> Muse are off to have dinner that will keep you out until midnight, like
>> real people.
>
>Until half-past eleven actually, and we were most dissapointed not to have a
>further sample of your illiterate scribblings to chuckle at before the wine
>wore off.
You were most dissapointed [sic] not to have to face another slapping
before morning, luvvy. I think you like it.
<<
>> >PS : I.A. Richards wrote, "Practical Criticism",
>>
>> That's right. I missed out the 'I'. Not sure what is your point. I've
>> read the work from cover to cover.
>
>
>From cover to cover, eh Joe. My, what a clever fellow you must be! I won't
>ask how much of it you understood.
>
Not too much, I grant you. I'm not an intellectual and I have to work
hard at understanding the workings of great minds. You're beginning to
sound just a little desperate. Richards is an influence on a group of
Londoners in the same game, scattered now, but we exchange our own ideas
about what can be done with the written word. You're too stupid to know
it but we contribute on a daily basis to the language, and shape it, for
better or worse, because we use it, and yes, often enough abuse it. You
seem to be a very sad example of those hidebound English users who have
never, and will never get a hard on doing writing. We're coming to get
you, my friend, and we're going to point at you and laugh.
<<
>> You have no idea what Richards' ideas were about, have you?
>
>The Meaning of Meaning?
>
That was published by Richards and C.K.Ogden. Not much to do with ideas
about writing, more about the scope of semantics, if I recall. A little
dull. I discarded it. You're still trying hard, though.
<<
>And you're a hilarious fantasist who could give the drunken Anopheles a run
>for his money.
>
You'll never know how close to the truth is "hilarious fantasist". But
then, you'll never know quite why it is that you and your Muse are such
a scream. What is a drunken Anopheles? And where can I get one?
>
> >And you write all your posts on writing software
>> with the Grammar Checker in overdrive, don't you?
>
>Outlook Express doesn't have a spell-checker, never mind a grammar-checker
>(no need for capitals Joe).
>
There you are, you see. You think humour is telling a joke with the
tension taken out and the elastic put in. If your O.E. did have a spell
checker it would have spell checked "dissapointed" and all the other
typos and mistakes which ordinary mortals like you and I are bound to
make from time to time. You one million times less often, of course,
because the bollard pull on your arse muscles is enough to swing a
fully laden container ship through 180 degrees, no bother. Boy, you're
one stupid protagonist. And you have the nerve to cast aspersions on my
flaming style. I thought I was taking the piss out of the first wanker I
found. Little did I know wankers are at a premium in these writing groups
and I picked a prime example in "Glen Wall" right off the bat.
>
>Which is why you keep
>> saying my sentences are ungrammatical but you are completely unable to
>> demonstrate why.
>
>Well Joe, the second "you" in the above sentence is redundant for starters.
>I demonstrated quite clearly exactly what was wrong with your grammar in my
>penultimate post to you. After expending several paragraphs in elucidating
>the juvenile solecisms to be found in a single sentence of yours, I got
>bored and gave it up as a bad job. but just imagine what I could have found,
>had I chosen to dissect your entire post ! Fortunately, I have better
>amusements.
Blood E Hell, you really MEAN it. You're ill. You're a sick man. Look,
I'll swear an oath stating that my grammar is rubbish. I swear it.
Do you read the tripe you unload? Insipid, ugly arrangements of words in
the right order with the wrong message. Is this something to do with what
you said about alt.writing in an earlier post? Is there some kind of
GRAMMAR DIVISION on duty here? Like the CROSSPOST POLICE over in misc.
writing? Or did I just get lucky? I'm going to PAY for Quinlan to get on
line. I don't think he's come across a real live dead man before. You HAVE
to have better amusements, my friend. God knows picking lint out of your
navel wearing gardening gloves must surely be more fun for you than
telling people off for their redundant pronouns.
>
>>Pathetic, pitiable fool.
>
>Silly mistakes, it's true. But you can still take remedial English classes.
>It's never too late to learn Joe !
>
It is for you, fool. You'll die and go to heaven where Henry and Francis
will be waiting for you, each with a girl on each arm, and they'll tell
you it was all a terrible mistake, there's more to life than grammar.
How you'll wish you'd stolen that apple, knocked off that policeman's
helmet, kissed that girl with the lungs. Instead, you'll have your
precious memories of grammary days in Usenet, the one place where at
last you could prove to hundreds of unsuspecting readers that you are
a very proper grammarian. And of course you'll have your Muse.
<<
> bad tempered spluttering don't add up to a flame unfortunately.
Eh? Equanimity is my middle name.
>Successful invective requires a level of intelligence and imagination that's
>so far above your head you would need lunar binoculars to catch even a
>fleeting glimpse of it.
It's Bob Monkhouse isn't it? YOU stole his joke book!
I make a living being intelligent and imaginative. (Why do you keep on
about alt.writing?) I make a killing every time I post to you, that's
plain, and so does everyone else apparently. Except your email admirers,
eh? I see it now - you and your Muse sitting up in bed reading all your
mail from admiring members of the "Glen Wall" Fan Club. I bet he lives
in Milton Keynes.
>You say you're a "newbie" Joe. Well, let me give you
>some free advice. Keep your coarse mouth shut for a while and take a look
>around to see what goes on here.
"Newbie" is relative. I've been taking a look around Usenet off and on
for years. There is always a "Glen Wall" in each newsgroup. Sometimes
more than one. They all have the same moronic belief as you: that talk-
ing to yourself convinces you, so it's bound to convince everyone else.
They invariably have a speciality on which they are fixated, and this
makes them go blind. They see only what they say, and they have nothing
else going on in their tiny minds. They get into flame wars with their
betters because they cannot rid themselves of their belief that the moon
is made of green cheese. They start off usually with a grand disdain, a
simulated condescension that they truly believe is doing the trick as
they flaunt their intimate knowledge of whatever it may be that gives
them something to live for, be it green cheese, blue movies, light
verse, heavy machinery, or grammar. Often enough the ploy is successful
and the bewildered intruders (for so they are regarded), completely
flummoxed by the drivel being repeated at them, make their apologies
and slip quietly away, grateful to have been spared the inevitable brain
death that actual communication with one of these wankers would cause.
The "Glen Walls" have a scale of responses, usually three, which they
bring into play as the encounters proceed. The second stage is the most
pathetic, really, because it is usually only detected by the respondents
and some few observers. It manifests in different ways, but, as here, it
shows up in the first telling phrase, along these lines, "You are angry/
furious/bad tempered because I am doing this or that to you with my far
superior knowledge of green cheese." That stage began with my own "Glen
Wall" one post ago, and it has reached critical mass here with the, "I
will now give you some advice", speech. Like I need advice from this
wanker. By this stage it is already too late for the poor sap, but he
has no choice. He has already made public his declaration that he is
the one and only "Glen Wall" lord of all he surveys and so the intruder
had just better cool off for a while and take a look at what "goes on
around here". Or, to put it another way, the "Glen Wall" is shitting
himself because he has gradually realized he has come up against the
real thing and he better start looking for ways out, first showing the
intruder where the EXIT is just in case he takes the hint. You're on
a hiding to nothing my "Glen Wall".
>You'll find that the worth of flames is
>judged by their intrinsic wit and intelligence, qualities which you
>singularly lack, and not by the amount of irritable bluster and hot air they
>contain.
I forgot "irritable". The facts are: I am calmly and coldly taking you
to the cleaners. The evidence in writing is that you are being turned
inside out, that you keep telling me about wit and intelligence while you
display little of your own, that you may write anything you like about
my flames but the reality is that I'm here giving you a large portion (I
do feel SO sorry for the anti-crosspost alliance). I'm not interested in
what YOU say. I'm only interested in what I do. To you.
>In less than 24 hours you have managed to make a complete fool of
>yourself and parade your truly astonishing ignorance in such an importunate
>manner that it's likely to stick in folk's memories for a good while.
The folk memory is already assimilating the details, have no doubt. I
still want to know what it is you think I'm ignorant of in this business.
You think I don't know how it works? Luvvy, you don't know you're born.
In 24 hours I have taken you from one of Usenet's "Glen Walls" and turned
you into my new toy. See, I don't have the time to take part in too much
discussion in the newsgroups so I decided to look for a big fat simpleton
to poke with a sharp stick after I've had a good read of all the gossip.
I hope you're grateful.
> You're
>obviously an impetuous sort of fellow, and I'll lay odds that this isn't be
>the first time you've ended up with egg on your face.
It's the first time I've ended up with such a broad grin all over of my
mush so soon, my lamb. I never had such luck since The Great Oilskin
Scandal of 1995. Impetuous indeed. I spotted you two weeks ago, sweetness.
I said to Malone, 'There's one. A big fat simpleton just asking to be
poked.' And in a crossposted thread! Bliss. Three different cultures in
which to show you off, "Glen Wall".
>My advice to you is to
>take your flamethrower somewhere nice and quiet like alt.knitting, and
>practice for a while on the harmless old grannies who hang out there.
My advice to you is to hang on tight to your Muse, my bucko.
>They'll probably take pity on you and give you an easy ride when they reply
>to your limp efforts. When you begin to get the hang of it you can come back
>and have another go. You won't do any better, because you're simply not
>bright enough to compose effective polemic - but at least you will have
>tried, and, more importantly, furnished everyone with some first-rate
>entertainment into the bargain!
Bluster, bluster, bluster and more bluster, bluster. Dear oh lor' my "Glen
Wall". Are you completely unaware of how terribly WIMPY you sound. It's
only polemic when it has a purpose, you silly, silly man. This has no
purpose. This is the evolution. Your electric metamorphosis. You're taking
a long time to get the point. I really must sharpen my stick. "Everyone"
is watching. We are watching. It's a blood sport, and you're flushed.
>
>> Richards endorsed irony, ambiguity, adventurous complexities in sentence
>> structure and allusiveness.
>
>Just as well he was spared the sight of your kindergarten efforts then, eh
>Joe?
>His ideas opened up the way for Modernism.
>> He influenced scholars like Empson and Leavis. He left Cambridge for
>> Harvard soon after publishing the work in question, and there greatly
>> influenced educationalists and linguists, an influence that remains.
>
>"an influence that remains". Now why does that whole paragraph sound exactly
>as though it was copied out from the Oxford Companion to English Literature,
>or some such volume?
I'll check. In the Oxford Companion it says, '...in 1931 (he) moved to
Harvard, where he devoted many years to the study of linguistics and
education.' Curious that a vaunted scholar such as yourself questions
how one researches a topic. That whole paragraph sounds exactly like the
essay I wrote on the subject from which I extracted the comments. You
woke up one morning and found you were a grammarian, did you?
>
>
>> Richards' arguments which you are implying would defeat me are not those
>> contained in 'Practical Criticism: a study of literary judgement'. You
>> are misled by the word 'criticism'.
>
>In fact, as is usually the case, you are misled by your half-witted
>assumptions. As it happens I was amusing myself by trying to imagine what,
>if anything, you would make of Richard's critique of Wallace Stevens.
Richard's [sic] critiques were academic exercises. I'm interested in his
ideas. And Wallace Stevens is just the kind of stuffy old trout writing
grammatically rigid poetry that would appeal to you. I only ever read one
of his poems, something about the weather and change. SUCH an original
thinker.
>To make your useless point you
>> should have referred to Richards' 'Principles of Literary Criticism'.
>> The discipline of literary criticism requires a thorough knowledge of
>> and understanding about writers at work, and the literary critic has
>> to be educated in the tradition of great literature, to earn the re-
>> pect of artists.
>
>Never mind Joe. I hear McDonald's are looking for staff.
>
What is McDonald's?
>
>Passing odd comments about piddling bits of dreary
>> 'writing' in a newsgroup is hardly to be compared. Doesn't stop you,
>> though.
>
>Or you either, it would seem.
>
True. We agree that odd comments is not criticism.
>
>> I look forward to your next excursion. With your Muse. Oh my god. You
>> probably have a name for it. Eouw.
>My Muse is Nemesis now and her sign is carved upon your forehead.
>
Your Muse is on top, ducky.
<<
>PS : I'd be grateful if you could maintain your newly self-imposed
>grammatical constraints for the duration of our correspondence. The result
>is even more hilarious than your natural style of scribbling !
Is that it? Grammatical constraints. That's what you live for, is it?
Grammatical constraints. And you want me to have some. I'll stick to my
natural style of scribbling, thanks. It's natural, and it has style. I
look forward to more of your constipated gruntings.
Syko
Glen Wall
Well Joe, congratulations on wasting hours of your time on a post that I
don't propose to read, let alone answer. As I've explained elsewhere, I'm
quite prepared to answer stylishly written flames of 5 kilobytes or less,
but if you really imagine thay anyone in his right mind would wade through
23 kilobytes of illiterate schoolboy rubbish and actually bother to respond
to it, then you must be even more stupid than your posts would suggest.
Still, once again I'm indebted to you for some fine amusement. The thought
of you sweating over your keyboard for hours and hours thinking, "I'll show
him! I'll show them all that no-one makes a monkey out of Joe Sykes!", only
to discover that no-one will bother to read your mindless drivel is a very
pleasant one on which to retire. It's most gratifying to see how much my
last post got under your skin, but you really should learn not to take
yourself quite so seriously. No-one else does!
Glen.
Joe Sykes
craven, cringing, cocksucking wanker, and if I ever see you anywhere
Steve Pritchard
daddio wrote in message <20c2f050...@usw-ex0101-003.remarq.com>...
>And dig further. I didn't say you were a literal Jew-baiter. No. I
>said it is the same thing in intent and technique whether the intended
>target is "kike" or "kook".
You said nothing of any note or interest, other than to try to spin off
the conversation towards something that no longer addresses your real
reason for annoying this group.
You crave attention and will do anything to get it.
You are an asshole.
Bob Pastorio
You are amazing, Jerv.
Sewage processing is amazing. Lancing boils is amazing. That wonderful
capacity to vomit is amazing. Many things are amazing.
Bob (writing as bad as Jerv's is amazing...) Pastorio
Glen Wall
What! Leaving so soon! Surely not Joe? My sister's having a children's
party next week and we were hoping to hire you to recite your posts in a
pompous, serious voice, whilst balancing a bananna on the end of your nose.
The pay is £10 an hour plus all the crisps, jelly and peanuts you can eat.
Not a fortune, I'll admit, but still a good deal more than you get paid by
Mc Donalds - even taking into account the bonus they give you for wearing
that Ronald Mc Donald clown's costume.
Ah well, so ends the short career of Joe the Jester, another wannabe
flame-artist who confused the bludgeon of insolence with the rapier of wit,
and succeeded only in losing his pants and exposing the bright crimson
cheeks of his podgy little ass to the contemptuous hoots of mirth of the
very audience he tried so hard to impress.. You may not have had a lot
upstairs Joe, but you were a damned good sport and didn't mind the hilarity
that greeted your literary pratfalls every time you took to the stage.
You'll be sadly missed by everyone who looked forward to the glorious
spectacle of seeing you tumble ass over tit on the twin bananna skins of
English grammar and syntax. Really.
RIP.
Glen.
PS : I doubt whether our paths will cross again on Usenet, as I have no
plans to visit alt.knitting in the foreseeable future.
Stephen G. Esrati
thought for a moment he had read my book, from which he quotes parts of a
paragraph. But, alas, he read the first chapter posted on Jayne
Hitchcock's HELP page. Oh well, I don't think he would have understood it.
Steve Pritchard wrote:
> Jervis is a special case. If he flaunts the rule it shows what an
> individual he is.
>
> Or maybe he's just an asshole.
--
Stephen G. Esrati
Author of COMRADES, AVENGE US, the gripping page-turner about a hunt by GI
victims for the Nazi war criminals who mutilated them for life. It is
available from me for $7.50, postpaid.
Read about the book at:
daddio
Wow. Yeah, ask Educaided Redneck about that. Hitler incarnate, that's
me, man. Ask ER about that "Jervish character" he used to refer to
around here, peeking out of his KKK hood, before he got wise enough to
clear his bigoted butt out of my space. Talk to the people at the
Paramount Swap Meet in L.A. who just about bought for themselves a fist
in the mouth when they used the phrase "Jew you down" at my booth.
See, ER makes a lot of noise about being identified as an anti-semite
by the guy he called "Jervish", but he never actually denies it. I
once said to him like, "Hey, if I'm wrong about that, I apologize."
His honesty would not allow him to accept the apology. He cannot accept
that apology. Do you understand? Read between the lines, man. I said to
him, you can't call yourself "redneck" unless you be a bigot, dad. It
is rednecks and nothing but rednecks who is still doin' all the
lynching and church burnin'.
Yeah, I burned his barn but good, and he steers clear of the "Jervish
guy".
So, I notice this fake who claims himself to be an Irgun warrior don't
quote what I said. Easy to further your stigma smearing mendacity that
way, man.
But, it won't work. You can't show one anti-semitic statement in that
post; not one. That's why you don't quote it, because that would not
further your lie. Man, you lie, you lie, you lie. You are under
challenge, Liar to produce one anti-semitic crack from that post, or be
exposed for the mendacious self-deluded swine.ya're.
You "hate" my writing, you diapered Sumo sonofabitch? Man, I hope you
loved this! You don't schtupp around with me, Jack. Get it?
You call yourself a veteran of the Irgun. Hah! I say that if you lie
now, you been lying all along. No way does a former Zionist terrorist
and fighter for the Underground support a sissy stinking "moderated"
newsgroup. Get outta here.
On my dying father's Jewish heart, you lying pig, you are my enemy
until you start telling the truth..
--
Jervis
I
> almost
> thought for a moment he had read my book, from which he quotes
> parts of a
> paragraph. But, alas, he read the first chapter posted on Jayne
> Hitchcock's HELP page. Oh well, I don't think he would have
> understood it.
> Steve Pritchard wrote:
> > Jervis is a special case. If he flaunts the rule it shows what an
> > individual he is.
> >
> > Or maybe he's just an asshole.
Ho-hum.
> --
> Stephen G. Esrati
> Author of COMRADES, AVENGE US, the gripping page-turner about a
> hunt by GI
> victims for the Nazi war criminals who mutilated them for life. It
> is
> available from me for $7.50, postpaid.
> Read about the book at:
> http://members.tripod.com/~ShibaHill/comrade.html
> PO Box 20130
> Shaker Heights, OH 44120
> (216) 561-9393
* Sent from RemarQ http://www.remarq.com The Internet's Discussion Network *
Anopheles
Joe Sykes wrote:
> >
What is a drunken Anopheles? And where can I get one?
Dear Joe,
Firstly, may I welcome you to a.w. Here are some answers.
1. I am Anopheles and I am rarely drunk. That I am called a drunk is a
pathetic tactic of the poor unfortunate that you have managed to become
entangled with. He is getting apasting from me, just as he is from you, and
so resorts to this childish type of behaviour.
2. Glen Wall was introduced into this group on someone's shoe and has spent
the last couple of weeks demonstrating that obnoxious is an undeveloped
word. He is also working on "didatic" and "moron".
3. Please do not think that we are all like this creature. Most others in
here are normal people.
Thank you for your attention. You may now go back to beating the Brick Wall
to a pulp. Please wash afterwards.
Anopheles
Joe Sykes
<glen...@freenet.co.uk> writes
>
>> You're a "Glen Wall", ducky. A mouth-on-wheels, shit-in-the-pants,
>> craven, cringing, cocksucking wanker, and if I ever see you anywhere
>> else on Usenet I happen to visit, I'll piss all over you again.
>>
>> Syko
>
>What! Leaving so soon! Surely not Joe?
Surely not, luvvy. Whatever made you think that? Your obstinate delusion
that "Glen Wall" is the scourge of Usenet is a contributing factor I
feel sure, but ultimately it's simply your sad inability to comprehend
nuance and the subtleties of language. Anyone else reading my post above
might have taken pause, considered the circumstances and come to quite
another conclusion. But you're a "Glen Wall", and like all "Glen Walls"
you swim with your mouth open.
> My sister's having a children's
>party next week and we were hoping to hire you to recite your posts in a
>pompous, serious voice, whilst balancing a bananna on the end of your nose.
>The pay is £10 an hour plus all the crisps, jelly and peanuts you can eat.
>Not a fortune, I'll admit, but still a good deal more than you get paid by
>Mc Donalds - even taking into account the bonus they give you for wearing
>that Ronald Mc Donald clown's costume.
The "Glen Wall" rapier of wit. A bad bananna [sic] joke. The repetition
of Usenet's stock insult provided free by most ISPs to pre-teens with
absolutely no clue at all, the old Mc Donalds [sic] joke with optional
Ronald Mc Donald [sic] punchline. And over all the sickly sweet stench
of decaying fruit and vegetables as the "Glen Wall" turns over the
garbage in its mind for something original to say, and fails.
>
>Ah well, so ends the short career of Joe the Jester,
You wish. Oh how desperately, yearningly you wish. Sucker.
>another wannabe
>flame-artist who confused the bludgeon of insolence with the rapier of wit,
Confusion had nothing to do with it, sweetknees. I use the bludgeon, the
screw, the short jab, the long haul, the intermediate waiting game, the
ubiquitous phyla Platyhelminthes in still waters, and anything else it
takes to keep you coming back for more. I don't wannabe a flame-artist,
my "Glen Wall". I just want nice clothes, good food, lots of generous
friends, and a fluffy new puppy for Christmas. Oh, and world peace, of
course.
>and succeeded only in losing his pants and exposing the bright crimson
>cheeks of his podgy little ass to the contemptuous hoots of mirth of the
>very audience he tried so hard to impress..
I'm my audience, you silly man. The audience in your psychotic vision
is, thankfully, none of my business, and frankly I get slightly queasy
at seeing you expose your illness in quite so public a way, but only
slightly.
Any other nut case would stick to hearing voices but not the "Glen
Wall". You get sound AND vision, and I wouldn't be surprised if you can
reach out and touch.
>You may not have had a lot
>upstairs Joe, but you were a damned good sport and didn't mind the hilarity
>that greeted your literary pratfalls every time you took to the stage.
I have a model of the Forth Bridge upstairs, and a Karom board if you're
interested. I just sold all my National Geographics, but I'm keeping
the Motor Sports and Autocars. There's a canoe with a hole in it, and
a gross of Halex table tennis balls I picked up for a song at an auction
in Giggleswick.
You know when you hear these hilarity noises in your head? Do you join
in? Or do you sit there dribbling?
>You'll be sadly missed by everyone who looked forward to the glorious
>spectacle of seeing you tumble ass over tit on the twin bananna skins of
>English grammar and syntax. Really.
>
Another failed bananna [sic] joke. And yet another psychotic dreamstate.
Mindreading.
>R.I.P.
No peace for the wicked, luvvy.
>PS : I doubt whether our paths will cross again on Usenet, as I have no
>plans to visit alt.knitting in the foreseeable future.
No, you have no plans to go anywhere people might call an ambulance. Our
paths are crossed forever, "Glen Wall". I shall be up and gone early
tomorrow but I'll be back around 7.00/7.30 to read your next commentary
on my grammar and syntax, and how you can hear an audience laughing, and
I'm sure you'll repeat your Mc Donalds [sic] joke.
Syko
Glen Wall
Anopheles <hi...@jeack.com.au> wrote in message news:3844df4a@tyson...
>
> Joe Sykes wrote:
>
> > >
> What is a drunken Anopheles? And where can I get one?
>
>
> Firstly, may I welcome you to a.w. Here are some answers.
>
> 1. I am Anopheles and I am rarely drunk. That I am called a drunk is a
> pathetic tactic of the poor unfortunate that you have managed to
become
> entangled with.
By your own admission, you were drunk when you made that fateful post that
exposed you as an ugly racist bigot. alt.white.power is the place for you
Annie, with others of your unsavoury kind.
>He is getting apasting from me, just as he is from you,
My God! What a couple of losers! Dream on Annie!
and
> so resorts to this childish type of behaviour.
>
> 2. Glen Wall was introduced into this group on someone's shoe and has
spent
> the last couple of weeks demonstrating that obnoxious is an
undeveloped
> word. He is also working on "didatic"
At least I can spell it you drunken half-wit.
and "moron".
>
> 3. Please do not think that we are all like this creature. Most others in
> here are normal people.
With the odd drunken racist bigot thrown in for good measure.
> Thank you for your attention. You may now go back to beating the Brick
Wall
> to a pulp. Please wash afterwards.
That's right guys, don't forget to wash - the taste of one's own blood is so
very unpleasant.
> Anopheles
Thus the craven, defeated Annie, deprived for the moment of the shelter of
Sharon's skirt (where he cowers trembling whilst she answers my posts to
him), desperately seeks out a champion to fight his battles for him.
So desperate, in fact, is poor Annie, that he even begs the already utterly
defeated and humiliated Joe the Jester to fight his battles for him. Joe the
Jester and Annie. Sounds like a third-rate cabaret act.
Get your tongue out of Joe's asshole, put the bottle down for a moment,
stand up straight like a man, and learn to fight your own battles.
You really are a couple of sad, sad people. Lacking the intelligence and
imagination to field a flame like Tracy, whose replies are a model of
laconic wit and verbal inventiveness (which is why you wisely persuade her
to answer my posts to you and try to get her to fight your battles), you
feebly splutter and bluster and post ignorant, illiterate, humourless whines
that go on and on for an unbelievable 23 kilobytes. God, are you sad.
To me, flaming is merely an agreeable recreation, a momentary diversion from
other literary endeavours. However, when a couple of chronically insecure
morons like you and Joe the Jester get flamed, your whole being feels
mortally threatened and fearing imminent extinction, you spend the whole
night in futile attempts to concoct some sort of reply which, when
completed, merely demonstrates everything that you were accused of in the
first place. Namely, the fact that you're stupid, illiterate, boring,
pompous, utterly insecure and wholly lacking wit. You expend countless hours
and more mental energy than either of you can readily afford to spare,
composing these ludicrously overlong documents whose only destiny is to
remain forever unread (except, of course, by the two clowns who laboriously
wrote them in the first place, in order to seek the comfort of knowing that
you are not alone in being repeatedly outclassed, trashed and humiliated).
What a pair of schmucks!
Get a life you sad bastards!
Glen.
Glen Wall
> In article <38442...@news2.cluster1.telinco.net>, Glen Wall
> <glen...@freenet.co.uk> writes
> >
I wouldn't keep you waiting that long Joe! Since you asked for a commentary,
here it is :
Style : 0/10
Wit : 0/10
Content : 0/10
Interest : 0/10
Grammar : 0/10
Syntax : 0/10
Unintentional humour : 10/10
Pratfall quotient : 10/10
Entertainment value : 10/10.
Joe the Jester, mental midget and lame-flamer takes another tumble for the
crowds !
Glen.
Steve Pritchard
Glen Wall wrote in message <38442...@news2.cluster1.telinco.net>...
>What! Leaving so soon! Surely not Joe? My sister's having a children's
>party next week and we were hoping to hire you to recite your posts in a
>pompous, serious voice, whilst balancing a bananna on the end of your
nose.
>The pay is £10 an hour plus all the crisps, jelly and peanuts you can
eat.
I'll take that job.
William Penrose
>
> Nah, ain't enough pressure behind all that, Backdoor Joe, you just
> dribbling all over yourself, walkin' with it in your shoes.
Jervis, as one superior being to another, don't you get it? We're having
fun at your expense.
Bill
--
************************************************************
Information on gas sensors and related instruments:
Check us out at http://www.customsensorsolutions.com
************************************************************
Bill Penrose, President, Custom Sensor Solutions, Inc.
526 West Franklin Avenue, Naperville IL 60540, USA
email wpen...@customsensorsolutions.com
************************************************************
Purveyors of contract R&D and product development to this
and nearby galaxies.
************************************************************
daddio
<wpen...@anet-chi.com> wrote:
> daddio wrote:
> >
> > Nah, ain't enough pressure behind all that, Backdoor Joe, you
> just
> > dribbling all over yourself, walkin' with it in your shoes.
> Jervis, as one superior being to another, don't you get it? We're
> having
> fun at your expense.
> Bill
Hey baby: fun is what we want. Fun, fun, fun! But you see, Dear Boy, I
hope it won't amount to Daddio taking your T-Bird away to know how
entirely reciprocal the expense of all this fun really is, and truly I
do feel as though I'm getting my gas money's worth; i.e. if all the fun
I'm having is any guage. Notwithstanding, if I ever do get the bill,
well, I'll pay my half, but that's all.
--
Jervis
Steve Pritchard
daddio wrote in message <000b8d9b...@usw-ex0102-015.remarq.com>...
>You "hate" my writing, you diapered Sumo sonofabitch? Man, I hope you
>loved this! You don't schtupp around with me, Jack. Get it?
Geez, it's scary isn't it? Jervis enraged!
(How come he stall talks crap in a stylised fashion, even when he's mad?)
>On my dying father's Jewish heart, you lying pig, you are my enemy
>until you start telling the truth..
Well, at least that one has some style to it.
Ejucaided Redneck
>
> In article <38442C97...@earthlink.net>, "Stephen G. Esrati"
> <ste...@earthlink.net> wrote:
> > Having just found the anti-Semitic attack on me by this person,
>
> Wow. Yeah, ask Educaided Redneck about that. Hitler incarnate, that's
> me, man.
> See, ER makes a lot of noise about being identified as an anti-semite
> by the guy he called "Jervish", but he never actually denies it.
> Yeah, I burned his barn but good, and he steers clear of the "Jervish
> guy".
Someone who knows I long ago stopped reading anything emanting from or
remotely connected to "the Jervish guy" forwarded this.
Anyone doubting his profound disconnection from reality might note how,
in his dull, small mind, being ignored becomes a victory.
Jervis couldn't burn a barn if the directions were printed on the bottom
of a lit coal oil lantern.
Anopheles
Brick Wall floundered:
news:38446...@news2.cluster1.telinco.net...
>
> Anopheles <hi...@jeack.com.au> wrote in message news:3844df4a@tyson...
> >
> > Joe Sykes wrote:
> >
> > > >
> > What is a drunken Anopheles? And where can I get one?
> >
> > Dear Joe,
> >
> > Firstly, may I welcome you to a.w. Here are some answers.
> >
> > 1. I am Anopheles and I am rarely drunk. That I am called a drunk is a
> > pathetic tactic of the poor unfortunate that you have managed to
> become
> > entangled with.
>
>
> By your own admission, you were drunk when you made that fateful post that
> exposed you as an ugly racist bigot. alt.white.power is the place for you
> Annie, with others of your unsavoury kind.
Reproduce the "admission". You have already be proved a liar and a copyist.
Keep it up, even you might believe it soon.
>
>
> >He is getting apasting from me, just as he is from you,
>
>
> My God! What a couple of losers! Dream on Annie!
Please look up the definitin of loser. Find it under "W".
>
>
> and
> > so resorts to this childish type of behaviour.
> >
> > 2. Glen Wall was introduced into this group on someone's shoe and has
> spent
> > the last couple of weeks demonstrating that obnoxious is an
> undeveloped
> > word. He is also working on "didatic"
>
>
> At least I can spell it you drunken half-wit.
"It" may be the only word you can spell, you stupid fuck.
> and "moron".
> >
> > 3. Please do not think that we are all like this creature. Most others
in
> > here are normal people.
>
>
> With the odd drunken racist bigot thrown in for good measure.
..and the looney tune who flames about spelling while creatiing errors by
the score.
>
>
>
> > Thank you for your attention. You may now go back to beating the Brick
> Wall
> > to a pulp. Please wash afterwards.
>
>
> That's right guys, don't forget to wash - the taste of one's own blood is
so
> very unpleasant.
>
How I wish your large mouth was within bloodying distance. You surely must
know about the taste of one's own blood, you must taste it every time you
risk going out.
> Get a life you sad bastards!
Sure, one like yours? Where do we get that? I thought they had closed all
those institutions which is why you're out on the streets.
Die, you sicko. The only good you'll ever be is as fertiliser.
Anopheles
Glen Wall
Anopheles <hi...@rabbit.com.au> wrote in message
news:3844...@news.internex.net.au...
>
> Brick Wall floundered:
>
> news:38446...@news2.cluster1.telinco.net...
> >
> > Anopheles <hi...@jeack.com.au> wrote in message news:3844df4a@tyson...
> > >
> > > Joe Sykes wrote:
> > >
> > > > >
> > >
Even my creativity can't fertilise your sterile mind. Or inspire you to
write half-way decent flames.
But never mind Annie. Break open another six-pack and see what the guys on
alt.white.power are up to. It could still turn out to be a fun evening !
Glen.
Joe Sykes
your precious "Muse", and now, lo! I seem to have cured your premature
ejaculation. Your mental health still troubles you, I see. Staring into
your screen, you see "crowds". And are all the people laughing, "Glen
Wall"? Oh, I think so.
Now then, I can't stop, long drive ahead of me. Thought I'd just pop in
and give you a breakfast toast. I'll be back this evening so you can
spend all day feverishly thinking up something to add to your "comment-
ary". If you haven't already? No, no, I haven't time to look. Must
dash.
Syko
Steve Pritchard
daddio wrote in message <023a5bf4...@usw-ex0102-014.remarq.com>...
>Hey baby: fun is what we want. Fun, fun, fun! But you see, Dear Boy, I
>hope it won't amount to Daddio taking your T-Bird away to know how
>entirely reciprocal the expense of all this fun really is, and truly I
>do feel as though I'm getting my gas money's worth; i.e. if all the fun
>I'm having is any guage. Notwithstanding, if I ever do get the bill,
>well, I'll pay my half, but that's all.
Yep, you're right, Jervis. You should be able to sell stuff like this.
I believe the Campaign For Plain English in the UK would pay a fair penny
just to use this as an example.
Wendy Chatley Green
:
:Now I say that you are nothing but a goddam baldfaced liar. I say that
:anyone, anyone at all could read this story and enjoy it.
Send it to a few editors (real ones, not the ones running
around inside your skull). Scan their acceptance/rejection letters
and put them on a Web site. Let us known when you're finished.
In the mean time--stop cross-posting to misc.writing.
Rhiannon
news:81mjmo$rra$1...@nntp9.atl.mindspring.net...
> LOL! This guy's chain is as touchy as Evander's ear. Even my five-year
> old could lead him around by the ego. What a hoot!
>
> But I do give him credit for having enough courage to read the damn thing
> again. That must have taken guts! Much more than I have, I confess.
>
> --Geno<people shouldn't post for critique if they don't have the courage
to
> take it like a man>Royer
Oh do tread carefully. When I suggested this, all hell broke loose.
Rhiannon