Linguistic Mystics

Mr. Repose
The Warden

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The Library of Discontent

It was just me vs. the animal kingdom.

When I was a kid, I had an animal magnetism all my own.  By that I mean, animals were drawn to beating the shit out of me.  I don’t know why, but the list of things that happened is pretty funny now, looking back.

I think it started with the chicken.  When I was about 6 or 7, my dad raised chickens for their egg-producing qualities, and sometimes we would even get to witness stage 1 of how chicken salad is made.  It was edutainment at its finest.  However, being the youngest kid in the fam, I was apparently a target for all of the unresolved aggression of every animal in the neighborhood.  For instance, where there are hens, there are often roosters.  One of them, in particular, had a grudge against me, and one day decided that he’d had enough of my upright humanness bullshit.  I was taller than he was and it pissed him off.  I don’t know why, he had all the chicks.  ho ho!

Yeah, so one day he charged me.  Not expecting this sudden outrage, I stumbled backwards and tripped over something, landing comfortably in a patch of hay.  This comfort was not destined to last, for an angry rooster is a mighty foe for a scrawny 7 year old who doesn’t know what the fucking fuck is going on.  The son of a bitch started jumping on my chest like I was a trampoline, scratching the hell out of me and scarring me for life, or at least a few days.  Oh but my brother was there.  “Saved!” or so I thought.  No, that prick just laughed at my shame.  I should have expected as much.  I don’t remember how it ended, but my enemy is now gone from this world, where I’m quite sure he resides in Poultry Valhalla telling tales of his victory and making me sound a lot bigger than I was.

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The Joy of Statistics, Logistics and … Platypi

This site, well, doesn’t get many comments.   Page views seem fairly high though, and I suppose that tells me that at least someone is reading this nonsense, and that’s really good enough for me.   As Huxley states every now and then in the rotating quotes on the right, obscurity can only be cultivated in the dark.   Or at least something to that effect.

When I first created this site, it was much like… say, a rebound relationship.   My last website broke my heart, cut me to the bone, and made me want to pick up an acoustic guitar and write the world’s billionth love song.   So this was the first thing I made.   At first I wanted to name it Platitudes.com, for the precise reason that, unless I’m being extremely lazy in my writing, I sort of go out of my way to avoid platitudes.   You could even say that it was intended to be ironic which would have been sure to tickle the funny bones of any Gen-Xer that happened to be reading this.   As a side note to that, I  once cracked wise that the best way to get money out of those idiots is to just call things what they are, they seem to think saying something is what it is in a really droll voice makes it cutting and clever.  Ironic.  My brilliant idea was to make Gen-X clothing.   Hats that said, in small text ‘hat.’   Shoes that were in fact labeled ‘Shoe Brand Shoes.’   Expensive t-shirts that said ‘T-Shirt.’   You get the idea.  Of course, I couldn’t get the website name I wanted which sort of irritated me, so I got the Warden on Ventrilo along with another friend of mine in an attempt to coax a new name out of them since my first choice was taken.

Being the super useful Co-Admin he is the Warden cracked wise that Platitudes sounded a lot like, Platypuses.  You know, the ugly poisonous duckbeasts from that wasteland of humanity known as Australia, where everything is poisonous and will kill your ass.  Especially the music, Jet sucks.  So, the suggestion was to name the site, I shit you not… PlatitudePlatypus.com.   While not only is this a stupid suggestion, against my better judgment I said, ‘dude, who would think of something like that?’   Little did I realize that this is the damn internet.  It’s not a matter of who would think of something like that, it’s a matter of when. So I did a google search for ‘platitude.’  This lead me to an article on uncyclopedia.  What’s that you see in the right hand corner upon viewing the page?   A FUCKING PLATYPUS SPEAKING PLATITUDES!

Sometimes, I swear that god only decides to exist to mock me.

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Jam Box

Consider This

One sometimes gets the impression that the mere words ‘Socialism’ and ‘Communism’ draw towards them with magnetic force every fruit-juice drinker, nudist, sandal-wearer, sex-maniac, Quaker, ‘Nature Cure’ quack, pacifist, and feminist in England. — George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier