Ok, Enough of That

So, mea culpa, that's it from me on the Professor Greyroots crap, unless he happens to take me up on my offer (yeah, I'll be holding my breath over that one). I really hate getting involved, and I must discipline myself to remain detached from nonsense and drama. I realize that a lot of people admire passion. I do not. Naturally and like everyone else I am moved by forces not under my control. Let's put it this way: My personal moral and intellectual aesthetic has come under apparent assault, simply by the observation of pigs rolling with pigs. A personal fault, for in the end won't pigs be pigs? Gotta work on that. Anyway, I'm feeling the caesures which move me moving on to greener pastures. However, I do have more to say about my new self-definition as post-antinatalist...a lot more to say, actually... and perhaps over the course of months I'll say it. But always remember, it doesn't matter what I say. It matters what you think. Boingggggggg....

UPDATE: Not saying the interview is right out, but motivations are fickle things. I imagine he'll assault my sense of decency sooner rather than later, and out will come the poison pen once again to slay the dastardly...um...what is it, exactly? Some kind of Cronenberg freakydeaky?

One More Time With Feeling

Evilists, your fearless leader has advocated the murder of pregnant women!!! He has reiterated that position as recently as yesterday!!!!!! And from what I've heard, there are a few lost souls who are ready and willing to follow through in his name. Absolutely nothing more should have to be said.

Note to Evilists

He preys on your weakness, you know. And seeing that he's actually a monist and believes that in killing you he kills himself...well, do I really have to spell it out for you? You are the back against which he tests his cat-o-nines, his self-flagellation by proxy.

The chance to please you dad has passed, Professor. He's gone. And hasn't this all been a terrible burden to bear? Let it go, and experience the incredible lightness of ending a project that you never had the acumen to complete in the first place. I'm sorry, but there's no Nobel Prize in your future, Professor, including the future of your corpse. You've strayed too far from reality's grip and are lost in the tempest of your own emotional frailty, yet somehow you believe your vicarious immortality lies just on the other side of the secret door that you've bashed your head against your entire life. It doesn't.

Ok, I'm calling a half-day. School's out, children! Enjoy your comradeship while you may, for the sun is surely setting for each of us. I have a poem for this occasion, but I've lost track of it. I think I may have posted it on this blog somewhere. If I can find it, I'll add it here. Best to all of you, even him.

Festivities kick off this afternoon,
the party to dwarf all such galas past.
They'll howl beneath the urgent, waxing moon,
and make love on the waxen, melting grass.

They'll take turns at the speaker's podium
to voice their fair hurrahs and last goodbyes,
and shoot their guns into the tumbling skies-
wee thanes beneath the shoe of kingdom come.

But all the crowing, bluffs, and shaking fists
shall ne'er hold off their portion, and for this,
I'll not attend the circus at the end,
but pause in solitude, remembering friends.

And thus, in recollection of those passed,
I'll make peace with mortality, at last.

If You Don't Like Semi-Obscure References, Then Maybe This Blog Just Isn't For You

Morning, Professor Greyroots! Hey, I just started a new book today by George Plimpton. Remind me of the title? No, I mean YOU remind me of the title. You really, really do.

Difference between you and me, poopchute? I cherish being wrong. It allows me an opportunity to embrace change and to foster my intellect, such as it is. Unlike you, whose rickety abode is built on a foundation of hatred and close-mindedness. If only I could reach through this screen and shake you by your anemic haunches! Your message has become nothing more than a psychedelic ego trip of massive proportions, the absolute worst case of delusional inferiority complex I've ever seen. Maybe that exists on the planet! I guess you are special in that singular way, so...kudos?

Here, pussy! Here puss, puss, puss! Sado-daddy's run a nice bath for you!

Gladiator, or Pussygator? The Ring of Fire is Open for Business

OK, tough guy, here's your shot. I'm leaving this space open on the off chance that you can fire off a paragraph or two without shitting yourself. Ball's in your court! Time to kitten up, or shut up. Just say your piece in the comments section. I'll even make an exception and let some of your viler stuff in, as long as it's not completely over the top hatred or silliness.

UPDATE: Again, on the off chance that you're not gonna puss 'n' boots out of here, the rule is simple. You challenge me, I answer, then I challenge you and you answer. This ain't my first rodeo, alley cat. Oh, and no worries. I'll treat you and your arguments with exactly the same amount of respect as you treat everybody else. Now how could anything be more fair? If nothing else, maybe you'll learn a lesson about arguing in good faith. Lol! Who am I kidding? You learn a lesson? The list of inanimate objects with more class and integrity than you is long and growing, pretty much any time any creature on this planet takes a dump. See you in the funny pages, chumppppppppp.

or...

He IS a cute little feller, ain't he?

Oh, and no comments by anyone else here. Feelin' kind of a mano v. pervo vibe going on. Can you feel it?

Hypocrisy and Loreal #7, a Match Made in Heaven

Grayroots claims he likes to tell the truth
And pooh-poohs all my meek attempts at jest
He finds my little bon mots insincere
And says I'm just a worry and a pest

Oh well, I guess I'll have to catch that flak
And listen to the jackass bray his scorn
But in the meantime I'll still have my fun
Dividing all his peanuts from his corn

BTW, if the jackass ever grows a pair I'm always here, and he can challenge me on any subject. Providing, of course, that he does it in writing. I've seen all those attempted conversations where, when challenged, he explodes in cursing and runs away. Well, not all of them...I do have a life, after all...but I've seen enough to know his 'reasoned arguments' rarely reach beyond the capacity to go ape shit and start trashing everybody.

So how's about it, pussycat? I'm waiting.

Thundercats Are Go!

Sung to the tune You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' by The Righteous Brothers

You never claw my face anymore when I brush your mane
And when you cuss me out, your roar just don't sound the same
You're trying hard not to show it
But Gary, you and I, we both know it

You've lost that Lion-O feelin'
Whoa, that Lion-O feelin'
You've lost that Lion-O feelin'
Now it's gone, gone, gone, whoa-oh

Now there's no haughty look in your eyes when I reach for you
And you never satisfy when we do it like in the zoo
It makes me just feel like cryin'
You'd best scare 'em, cause your harem is dyin'

You've lost that Lion-O feelin'
Whoa, that Lion-O feelin'
You've lost that Lion-O feelin'
Now it's gone, gone, gone, whoa-oh

Gary, Gary, you've built all your hopes on sand
You'll never be a lover, or friend, or even a man
Your act has grown stale, your pose, your play, your lame hackneyed farce
And all because your brains are up your arse

Gary-------------Gary
Gary-------------Gary
I beg you please------------please
Please............please
I need your hate..............need your hate
Need your hate............need your hate
So burp it on back............so burp it on back
Burp it on back............burp it on back

Bring back that Lion-O feelin'
Whoa, that Lion-O feelin'
Bring back that Lion-O feelin'
'Cause it's gone, zilch, zip
With your quivering lip, whoa-oh

Bring back that Lion-O feelin'
Maychance you need some healin'
And maybe later you could clean your ceilin'
'Cause there's spunk, spunk, spunk
And so many pictures of your junk, whoa-no