Linguistic Mystics

Mr. Repose
The Warden

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The Library of Discontent

Killing Literature, One Fang at a Time

I know, I know, the title for this post is awfully dramatic.   I know that it’s a bold claim to make that now, officially, literature is dead, dying, or a fucking zombie shambling around the countryside as a hollow shell of it’s former self.   Many people would disagree, but that’s only because not everyone has seen the utter horse shit on sale at the bookstore that I did.   I want you to sit back, dear reader, and allow the following image to wash over.   Relax, empty your mind and focus ahead only at this text and the preceding image.   Behold:

... and reailty BITES!  Get it?   NYUCK NYUCK

Now, if the first thought in your head is ‘wow that looks like it could be pretty cool,’ I want you to do me a favor.   Take your hand, ball it into a fist, and punch yourself right in the face.  Besides my gut instinct to burst into a fit of mad laughter, there are several things gazing upon this majestic piece of surly Shakespearean art does for me.

First, it disturbs me, deeply.   If you notice the top of the image states ‘New York Times Bestselling Author,’  a title, which means nothing anymore anyway.   Lets face it, every shitty self-help book and half assed novel is apparently a ‘best seller.’  Just because people read it doesn’t mean it’s good.   I mean the Ghost Rider movie made money, but it still sucked so much dick it practically imploded on itself sucking Nick Cage’s carrier further into an event horizon of complete epic failure.   Basically the ‘New York Times Bestseller’ tag on a book just tells you that it’s popular amoung the same populace that thinks Micheal Bay is a good director, Adam Sandler is funny, and voted to elect George W. Bush president … TWICE.

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The Top 10 Annoying Types of People

Once again, I have nothing good to say about anyone.  This is because I was born with curly red hair and didn’t get enough hugs.  Plus, I haven’t been laid in like, 6 months.  Well I threw a dart at the list on my wall, and it fell comically to the floor, so I guess the target today is … everyone. That suits me just fine.

I give you, the Top 10 most annoying sorts of people.  Note: While I understand that there are far more varieties of obnoxious, foul-smelling peons in the world, I had to keep this somewhat reasonably sized because we’re pressed for space until we find a way to deal with the tag monster problem.  Apparently fire doesn’t get rid of everything.

10. Australians

G’die, Mite!  Aussies managed to come in as the least annoying of the 10 that came to mind, because while nearly every Australian I’ve met is an easily angered, argumentative twatdangle, this happens to work in their favor as well; they like to pick fights, I like to pick fights.  The only differences here are, I don’t live in a cat box and my accent is typically not the subject of ridicule.  Australians sound like retarded British people, and the fact is, if you tell them this, they probably won’t laugh it off.  They’ll just adjust their ‘wit’ accordingly, then call you what amounts to ‘stupid asshole’ anyway, only it will sound far more idiotic and is quite likely to simply cause laughter and requests of more funny Aussie slang.  The sad thing is, if you look up Aussie slang, the primary Google result as of this writing is a page that remarks:

Well, when you think of Australia, chances are you think of Desert, Kangaroos and Paul Hogan. And when you think of the way we speak, you probably think of “g’day”, “mate”, and the phrase popularised by Paul Hogan, “Throw another shrimp on the barbie!”

It’s not all I think of.  I also think of the huge flies that buzz around you constantly no matter where the fuck you are, the ungodly heat, and this one Jackie Chan movie that took place in Australia because American actors were too expensive to hire.

If all of this sounds a little ethnocentric, bear it in mind that I happen to think my own country is full of clueless, shallow fuckheads obsessed with war (in fact, Americans rank higher up in the list).  At least Aussies don’t have that.  They just like to call you names you have to look up when you get home.

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Real men don’t sparkle.

Like Harry Potter before it, yet somehow even more nauseating and obnoxious, the vampire romance novels and films referred to collectively as “Twilight” have taken obsessive, retarded fandom to a whole new, psychotic level.  Let’s break it down.

The Twilight series is the (in)famous creation of a woman named Stephenie Meyer, who makes even J K Rowling’s pap seem more tolerable by comparison.  Meyers’ Mormon beliefs evidently run thick through every soporific page filled with vampires falling in love, dealing with teenage conflict, and playing vampire baseball.  That’s right, unlike Mormons, these vampires can go out in public during the day.  That’s about all they seem capable of doing.  But who cares about the story?  It seems the majority of all fans seem to be image conscious teenage girls, so to wonder if there is any compelling content is pretty pointless.  They’re vampire romance novels.

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Jam Box

Consider This

A good man is hard to find.
Only strangers sleep in my bed.
And my favorite words are ‘goodbye.’
And my favorite color is red.
— Tom Waits, Blood Money, “A good man is hard to find.”