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Stumpage Reports
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Thursday, May 29, 2003 :::
Blurbing Big Ed: or, Burglarizing Blogs
While doing yesterday's post, I wanted to link to a certain entry in Ed's blog. I couldn't remember when he did it and to avoid wading through his archives, I did a Google search for some phrases I thought were in there. The search I did returned a long list of hits all on Ed's blog. As I scanned through the little two or three sentence samples Google puts in there to highlight your search terms, I kept coming across phrases that cracked me up. I thought, "Damn, Ed's coined some good phrases." I went ahead an extracted some of my favorites. The ellipses and sentence fragments are Google's, not mine. Sometimes I think phrases like this are even funnier when taken out of context, and Google did that for me. A nice example of that phenomenon can be found here.
Without anymore blathering on my part, here's a list of phrases that cracked me up from the poison pen of Ed:
Mimes are Satan's dingleberries, as we all know
I've suggested rubber gloves but she doesn't listen to me
... One more missing person and your carnal lusts are satisfied
I starts shouting at me, stuff like 'homo,' 'fag' and 'queer' and 'what are you looking at?'
"I don't know but it wasn't me.". The freckled dork is stumped.
... caused me to wonder if they purposely included a pig that was terrified of water so the monkeys in the bleachers could have a good laugh?
To know me is to know that I love blasphemy in all its forms. ...
I do know that she is very tiny and bubbly because she has a new job and she makes me feel gigantic, clumsy and old. ...
I'm surprised he never kicked my ass or at the very least gave me a nipple twist. ...
I'm not saying Pat Conroy is a crazy fuck, he's just a fella like you and me.
Before the Romans come and get me I want to celebrate a last orgy. ...
Quote of the Day:
This rose-bush, by a strange chance, has been kept alive in history; but whether it had merely survived out of the stern old wilderness, so long after the fall of the gigantic pines and oaks that originally overshadowed it,�or whether, as there is fair authority for believing, it had sprung up under the footsteps of the sainted Ann Hutchinson, as she entered the prison-door,�we shall not take upon us to determine. Finding it so directly on the threshold of our narrative, which is now about to issue from that inauspicious portal, we could hardly do otherwise than pluck one of its flowers and present it to the reader. It may serve, let us hope, to symbolize some sweet moral blossom, that may be found along the track, or relieve the darkening close of a tale of human frailty and sorrow.
--- Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter, 1850.
::: posted by tom at 11:18 PM
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