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Updated: 2017-11-19T08:14:01.241+11:00

 



Gritty realism

2017-11-06T21:06:50.213+11:00

Last week the exercise in German class was to sit and watch a video of a mountain and then come up with adjectives about it. The mountain was doing that thing it is that mountains do: not very much. In due course we had come up with a series of not particularly  original adjectives which the teacher was dutifully placing up on the board: "Hoch" ("high"), "neblig" ("misty"), "großartig" ("great, sublime").... at around this point I ventured: "Vielleicht es ist ein bisschen langweilig" ("Maybe it's a little boring").. The teacher laughed at this, said "Nein", and refused to write anything of the sort on the board: "Ja, langweilig", I cried, rallying to the course: "Es ist groß und grau und dreckig: langweilig!" (Big, grey, dirty).And, come on, I was right: mountains are indisputably big, mostly a dull grey, and undeniably dirty: they are *literally* dirt. Big collections of rocks remain rocks, no matter how highly they may elevate themselves.But people really do get over-excited about their big rocks. Just the other day the traditional owners of Uluru - that's the big red rock in the middle of  the desert, for anyone from other lands - decided to ban people from walking on top of their rock. Fair enough, it's their large stony object and they can do what they want with it, I guess. But the outrage! The anger! The cranky tweets and Facebook posts! Australians, it seems, really take their big rocks - and their right to walk over their big rocks - personally! What does it say over the state of a nation where one of their most beloved national icons is a gigantic rock in the middle of the desert? Mind you, we do have one over the United States. They get excited about a big hole in the middle of their desert.What do people love about such masses of dirt, anyway? I suppose I shouldn't seem too dismissive of big rocks and hills and the like. Let's be exact and precise in our language here: a mountain is an exaggeration of dirt: there really is a lot of it. "A presence to glop at", as Auden wrote about that gigantic sphere of dirt and stuff in our sky. When Edmund Hillary learned of Everest, that gigantic collection of dirt in the Himalayas, his instinct was to climb it, too (this seems to be a common theme - getting on top of exaggerations of dirt, and then getting down to the other side). After he actually achieved this feat, one particular party - I'm not sure whether they were struck by a sudden fit of intelligence or a sudden fit of stupidity - asked Hillary why. Hillary's response was singularly unforthcoming: "Because it was there".Well, they are there, after all, these hills and mountains and rocks and things, and they might as well earn their keep, which is why I suppose people do make such a song and dance about them. Tourism, photo opportunities, exciting travel opportunities (travelling to the mountain, travelling up the mountain, travelling down the other side of the mountain, travelling back home from the mountain again*) - not particularly meaningful, you might say. But who cares about giving meaning and substance to your life when you've got the basis for a national economy instead? Perhaps these big rocks have something to them after all.Mind you, when we were in New Zealand in February, Lexi and I took a trip by train to Chateau Tongariro, right up next to the famous Mt Ruapehu. There was a train packed full of people, with a viewing platform where everyone could see its sublime peaks and its noble vistas. All the way there and all the way back, our sight of the mountain was occluded by large swathings of clouds and mists and the like. None of us got to see this wonder of nature at all. It was great. I even got a poem out of it:Ruapehu! So bigly and profound! We've come to see your stately scenery! Though swathed in mystic mists, down to the groundYou truly are a sight we'll never see.  I wrote ten more lines of this, but you see where I'm going.Not that I really have anything against rocks. They're all right, I suppose. I just guess I get annoyed when the big ones detrac[...]



List I found in my notebook

2017-10-08T20:34:43.123+11:00

Useful useless jobs

Maker of zips for fake pockets
Church gargoyle feeder
Umlaut weigher
Pre-ripper of invisible jeans
Snark breeder
Walker of trolls
Maker of pockets for fake zips
Reverse stripper

*Note: I heard the first two in various places, I'm not quite sure where. The rest I made up. 



A users guide to awkward hugs

2017-10-05T21:41:40.013+11:00

Hugs are always awkward. In fact that's probably what hugs were invented for, cheap and efficient awkwardness on a global scale. There are some people who claim that hugs are for being comfy and feeling loved, but those people are in denial. How long is this comfy hug supposed to go on for? Is a feeling loved hug maximised if I place my arms here, or move them there? What if the second person in the comfy loving hug has entirely different feelings about the correct position and duration of the comfy loving hug than the first person in the comfy loving hug? There could be an argument about it. There could be a huge fight. Marriages have split up over less! It's all incredibly awkward, which takes us back to my initial point about hugs being always awkward. They just are, as I have just irrefutably proved.But by far the most awkward hugs of all are awkward hugs. You might think this is tautological, and you'd be right. Awkwardly awkward hugs are the hugs that put the 'logical' into 'tautology'. You might argue that 'tautology' doesn't have 'logical' in it, and again it seems you would be right. It's all very awkward, and we're only *talking* about hugs, which really proves just how awkward they can be if we can come to such an embarrassing impasse without actually hugging.So, it seems we need a users guide to awkward hugs. And here it is. Take it from me. I know about awkward hugs all right. I'm an expert. Nobody hugs more awkwardly than me.1) Embarrassing embraces with people you've just met. 2) Peremptory smooshes with people you'll never see again. If you do 1) right, it becomes 2) anyway.3) Awkward hugs with awkward kisses. How do you do these things again? Peck on the cheek? Right hand cheek, left hand cheek? And quick, right? Just how quick?4) Surprise hugs in the middle of a party from a drunk person. These are difficult. I find that awkward hugs works best if you really prepare for them, anticipate every aspect of their awkwardness for weeks, and then blunderingly get the whole thing wrong anyway, but surprise hugs in the middle of a party from a drunk person can be pretty awful too. Try and arrange for it to be a) in a surprisingly awkward location b) stationed in front of a large audience of people who will ask you awkward questions about it afterwards (eg your girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/husband) b) surprisingly, well, surprising.5) Bear hugs from a bear. Very awkward, these.6) Awkward hugs with awkward kisses from a bear.  You hardly even know one another, and already one of the party is bear. Ho ho ho ho ho.7) Gawky side hugs.Are you being not affectionate enough, or too affectionate? Should you be side hugging from the other side? These hugs create more questions than answers.8) Manly manhugs with one of the participants being a dweeb and the dweeb is you. 9) Cold emotionless distant formal hugs. Because emotion is evil and must be crushed.10) Hugs for comfort where neither party is comfortable but maintain the illusion of comfort and safety to keep the other person feeling comfortable and safe. With a bear.11) Awkwardly hugging someone with parasites. 12) Passive aggressive hugging. I mean, often nobody's enjoying it. But sometimes it's got to be done.SEE ALSO: Awkward sex hugs, awkward spooning where one of the partners is subtly out of position making the other spooner uncomfortable, awkward sex hugs with your partner, one cat, two dogs, and a goat. Not that I know anything about those ones. And the goats not talking either. [...]



Misinterpreted misinterpretations of words that do not mean what they mean

2017-09-06T06:46:54.732+10:00

Oy you lot, drop what you're doing! I can't believe we didn't start talking about Robert Frost's poem The Road Not Taken five minutes ago! Is it up to me to start all the discussions about the completely random pointless trains of thought which I came up with for no reason at all and which I'm talking about no for even less reason? You're just lazy, that's what you are!Anyway, everyone is wrong! This is a poem that has not just been misinterpreted, it's a poem where everyone's interpretation of the misinterpretation is a misinterpretation! (Except for me, of course.)Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.Got that?- Okay, so ... it goes something like this. People commonly misinterpret this poem as if it was about a person choosing between two roads and then realising how that choice 'has made all the difference' later in their life. Seems simple enough, right?- Ah, but, a second set of people claim. The poem's not really about that at all! It's about how there actually was no difference between the two choices! They point out how Frost describes the roads as being 'really about the same' and that 'both that morning equally lay'. There, you see, they claim, Frost is actually taking the piss out of this guy speaking, who says that the choice he made was actually important. The speaker is actually trying to make out a difference where there is none.- Is not, say the first.- Is too, say the second.But - and here is the nub that the misinterpreters of the misinterpretation miss out on - it's not as if the speaker is relating the events as they happen to him. It's a past tense poem and could be relating events that happened years, even decades ago. So when the speaker says of his choice 'that has made all the difference', he may well be referring to knowledge he has gained since the events relayed in the poem. It is true that he says that 'I kept the first for another day/Yet knowing how way leads on to way,/I doubted if I should ever come back' - implying that he can't really know if taking the other track would have made a difference. But maybe he did? It doesn't say either way in the poem.And it's not as if it's a purely physical poem, is it? The point the most first set of misinterpreters pick up on - sometimes - that the second set of misinterpreters don't is that it's a bit of a metaphor, really. The two roads mightn't even be real. They might just represent a choice the speaker made in their life. And though you can't ever return back to that point in your life where you were able to make that choice - 'knowing that way leads on to way', and all that - you might very well be able to discern the effects of those choices. And even if you make the simplest, most literal translation of all these lines - the poem actually is about a traveller in the woods making a choice that will affect his later life (and he is described as a 'traveller', and not just a 'sightseer' or something else, so it seems implicit he is making a journey of some import), it's pretty clear that making a choice between roads may make a difference in one's later life.Wrong wrong wrong! You're all wrong! And citing the genesis of the poem - apparently Robert Frost wrote it for his friend, fellow poet Edward Thomas, who was apparently always regretting not taking certain roads in his walks with Frost - [...]



Pub tongue twister....

2017-08-26T20:22:49.498+10:00

Pub tongue twister - if you can recite it perfectly, then you clearly haven't had enough to drink.


The bald bard bawled
By the bad bard's bar
For the bald bard had brawled
With the bored bawd's bra*,
Til the big broad barman 
Barred the bard from the bar
So the bald bard bawled
By the.... blah blah blah blah. 

*Consensually. 



The most lamentable tragedy of Marcel Marceau

2017-08-25T20:01:10.722+10:00

SCENE: A doctor's office. The DOCTOR is sitting at the desk going through his notes. In through the door comes MARCEL MARCEAU. 

DOCTOR: Yes. Good morning, Mr Marceau. I'm glad you've come to see me. I've been looking at your test results and they're not good. Not good at all, I'm afraid. 

MARCEL MARCEAU: (Says nothing). 

DOCTOR: And - yes, well. I think you'd better get comfortable and prepare yourself for what I've got to say. 

MARCEL MARCEAU: (Says nothing). 

DOCTOR: You see, Mr Marceau.... ahem.... I'm afraid you've got gesticular cancer. 

MARCEL MARCEAU: 




DOCTOR: Hm. Clearly it's already entered the terminal stage. 

FIN



Clearly learning about grammar in my German classes has driven me mad

2017-08-10T12:30:40.119+10:00

Seeking for pluperfection

Had I the hat that I had had 
When I had had a hat 
Ah! Then the hat that I had had
Would have to have been that! 

And if the hat that I had had 
Had had a band of red
Then oft that hat that I had had
Had sat upon my head. 

Alas! The hat that I had had 
Had had a band although
The band the hat that I had had 
Had had had faded so. 

No more the hat I had to have 
Was mad to have and glad - 
I threw away that sad old hat 
The hat I had had had. 

If the reader so desires, they can find the right places to put the commas in amongst all those 'hads'. 



Not that I'm saying the world's going to explode if I don't answer this question, but you know, it probably will.

2017-08-08T16:54:37.886+10:00

Right, world, listen up. You've kept us waiting too long and we all demand the answer to this question:

What on earth do homeschoolers who homeschool their kids call, you know, homework?

HOW CAN WE GO ON LIVING THIS EXISTENCE WITHOUT AN ANSWER TO THIS VITAL QUESTION?



An ohhhhhhhhhd

2017-07-30T19:46:02.142+10:00

A few years ago the venerable institution going by the venerable name of Slamalamadingdong held an 'Anything Goes' poetry slam at their then venue of Trades Hall. Timing, as they say, is an indispensable element in many things - comedy, poetry, and outrageous distastefulness. So I hit on the idea of writing a love poem to the then Opposition Leader Tony Abbott and performing it at the slam. The worthy politician  who goes by that name has his advantages and disadvantages as a representative of Australia on the world stage, but his value in shocking and outraging people in the Melbourne Trades Hall is inestimable.

The years roll by. Tony Abbott is no longer Opposition Leader, no longer Prime Minister. The actual Prime Minister and Opposition Leader inspire nothing like the visceral shock and outrage and disgust that Mr Abbott seemingly was able to muster by simply turning to the camera and uttering a three syllable phrase - "Stop the boats!" Why, then, do I share with you now my Ode to Tony Abbott? For this very simple reason: I never actually got around to performing or writing it at the time of the Anything Goes slam. Timing is an indispensable element, in procrastination as in other things. 

An ode to Tony Abbott
Tony Abbott Tony Abbott 
Politician on a mission as you lead the coalition 
Pounding out the heaving bosom of the ocean 
While the water swells to meet you and the shoreline comes to greet you 
And the very planet shakes with the commotion. 
Tony Abbott Tony Abbott
With your roadways to tomorrow, pure, without sorrow, 
Clean cutting lines of asphalt and precision - 
And at night the luminescence of the neon fluorescence 
To sanctify your technocratic vision. 
Tony Abbott Tony Abbott
Warrior for the nation as we shout with acclamation 
And our voices mingle, passionate in praise - 
May our military munitions flower in perfervid fission 
And pay their tribute to you in a torrid blaze. 
Tony Abbott Tony Abbott 
Do you hear the metal ringing and the infrastructure singing
As the factories whisper out the Abbott story - 
And the smokestacks stand and shiver till with wonder they deliver
Clouds of radiant black effulgence for your glory! 
Tony Abbott Tony Abbott TONY ABBOTT. 



HIGHLY IMPORTANT POEM WITH NO WORDS AND ONLY THREE LETTERS

2017-07-13T20:33:22.027+10:00

TFW
(FTW)
WTF!



A winning combination

2017-06-29T09:46:05.033+10:00

Crocs. 


Crocs with socks. 


Crocs with socks and a box of chocs. 





Bojo made a booboo boohoo

2017-06-22T21:55:29.916+10:00

Boris Johnson struggles in interview 
Boris Johnson seemed to struggle when asked by Eddie Mair on BBC Radio 4's PM to explain how plans laid out in the Queen's Speech would tackle "burning injustices" identified by Prime Minister Theresa May.

Has Bojo lost his mojo
Now that Corbyn's all a-gogo,
Have they conquered his blond conker
And driven him quite bonkers?
Has the polyphonic Pfefferneuse
Put his head in his own noose?
Is the boffin of the waffle
Lost in his own piffle-poffle?
The polls say yes, the polls say no,
The bottom line is, we don't know. 


Has the prime PM contender
Been marked return-to-sender?
Is the man they called Adonis
No longer due upon us?
Have his wingdings lost their zingzing,
Has his bikey lost its dingading?
Has he toddled off for wiff-waff?
Has the bofflin lost his boff?
The polls are up, the polls are down,
We go around, around, around. 



Furtive eggplant

2017-06-05T10:32:13.710+10:00

I was in the garden this afternoon when, crouching down by the back of the beehives, I found a furtive eggplant. There is no eggplant, er, plant there. It was also not a very big eggplant, but it was an eggplant, so there you go.

(image)

I looked left. I looked right. I looked all around. One is occasionally accustomed to finding the odd egg in the garden (I've known a chicken or two with such nefarious thoughts in mind). But an eggplant?

There was a clunk or two over the other side of the fence. Could our 70 plus year old neighbour have thrown it over? Unlikely. The bees continued doing whatever it is bees do. Far off, on the other side of the garden, the chickens all stood around looking suitably suspicious. They certainly seemed they were up to something. But then, the chooks always seem like they're up to something.

I concluded my furtive eggplant investigations by creating the world's smallest eggplant parma. A coin is included for comparison.

(image)

It's not a very good mystery, but it's all I've got today. Thank you for reading my post about the furtive eggplant.



A pub poem

2017-05-25T12:13:17.604+10:00

My chip has fallen to the floor.
The bar is crowded. I look down.
Sehnsucht. A lawless longing for
The unattainable. I frown.



STUDY: people who stay up late and are messy and get distracted easily and are five foot two and prefer dark chocolate and have a moustache but not a beard and who don't do the dishes often and who prefer dogs to cats and who live in Ringwood and who are called Brad are very intelligent

2017-05-16T17:11:50.084+10:00

STUDY: people who stay up late and are messy and get distracted easily and are five foot two and prefer dark chocolate and have a moustache but not a beard and who don't do the dishes often and who prefer dogs to cats and who live in Ringwood and who are called Brad are very intelligent.

In breaking news, a new study confirms that people who stay up late and are messy and get distracted easily and are five foot two and prefer dark chocolate and have a moustache but not a beard and who don't do the dishes often and who prefer dogs to cats and who live in Ringwood and who are called Brad are very intelligent, according to a person called Brad.

Brad, who performed the intensive study in his offices in Ringwood, released this groundbreaking study to the international media this morning. The study had a sample size of one.

In other news, Brad is 28 years old, lives in his parent's cellar, and spends most of his time scratching his bum.



Poem composed on Mothers' Day 2017

2017-05-14T09:12:28.320+10:00

I offer this poem to all: parents, aspiring parents and offspring alike.

Dear Mistress, dear Master, 
We render to thee
A morsel of mouse
Made tender for thee -
How pleasant a present 
For the household to see!
Now what shall thy gift
To thy parents be?



Gliterature

2017-05-11T12:08:26.027+10:00

'Glittering' is a glittery word. 'Glistering' is a glittery word. 'Lustre' is a glittery word too. But combine them all and 'glustering' isn't very glittery at all. What the hell?

I have lost all my faith in the gliterary qualities of language.



Cat poetry

2017-05-10T10:44:04.475+10:00

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Anglo-Saxon Doge

2017-05-03T11:00:03.386+10:00

Ēadig, þec tō mētenne, fréondléasta! Behealden! "Anglo-Saxon Doge". Georne!  

(image)



A poem in excellent taste

2017-04-13T16:01:08.139+10:00

A poem in excellent taste

Ye carbo-gluto-great disgrace!
For years the Haggis set the standard
For horror foods, but I'll be candid,
Now other foods have come to try it,
To eat of which would cause a riot.
Would Sir prefer to rock the Casbah
With a slice of deep-fried Mars Bar,
Or would Sir rather rot his molar
With this deep-fried Coca Cola?
But Aussies can contend with these
With floater pies complete with peas -
To gaze within that Stygian grime,
The cow would die a second time.
Halal Snack Packs complete with cheese
Compete with this for extra quease.
A slice of fruit for those more pure -
It smells like foetid bogs and sewer.
A Parma can reward the senses
With its homely decadences,
But for sheer bloody What-The-Fucken-
Hell-Is-This at parties, try Turducken.
Lutefisk, Moose Nose, Bird-spit soups,
Stylised culinary poops -
Spit beer served in Mason jars
By suspect men in dingy bars;
Blue-green algae lattes (what the?
I'll go back to ol' Pigs Trotters).
This list of epicurean shame
Is long and everyone's to blame
And though I wish I'd not begun,
I'll just say this and then I'm done -
If you can eat it, please go nuts!
So long as you don't spill your guts.



Thursday morning deprecation of teapots

2017-03-23T11:16:21.746+11:00

At a time when the whole art world was going wiggly-woggly and frilly-frolly with noblets and nodules and nipples galore, look at what one Christopher Dresser created. The world's most ridiculous teapot.


I mean, really! The bloody thing would overbalance as soon as you tried to pick it up. And you can't steady it with your hand either, because it's made out of metal, so you'd just burn your hand. Anticipating this problem (maybe), Dresser gave it an upturned spout, but then you've got to wonder how you'd pour the stupid tea out anyway. Maybe it goes something like 1) Pour the hot water over the tea leaves at the bottom of the pot 2) Get two strong men to grasp opposite sides of the handle, making sure not to overbalance it. 3) Carefully place a teacup (good Lord, did this monstrous Dresser ever make teacups as well? I DON'T WANT TO SEE THE RESULTS) in the middle of the sink. 4) Let one of the strong men dangle the teapot in his hand, swinging it to and fro until enough tea slops into the cup 4) Smash the bloody contraption up and get a Nescafe instead.

And it gets worse. In googling "Christopher Dresser Teapot" I found this. And this. The horror! Look upon these teapots, and revile them, all ye who enter here!

This concludes today's post, Thursday morning deprecation of teapots. I hope you all got what you came for.



Biblical ethics for politicians

2017-03-13T15:26:11.172+11:00

From the lesser known Big Fat Lies translation of the Bible. 

"Be as sly as serpents, and as gentle as serpents."

"If someone strike thee, (and they be of a more powerful faction), turn the other cheek."

"But of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, thou mayst not eat, save that there be no media present."

"Render unto Caesar that which is Caesars, and render unto Caesar that which is yours as well."

"Yea, I am sending thee out as wolves amongst sheep."

"Do not let your right hand know what your left hand is doing, unless you can get a minor boost in the polls by doing it, in which case, go right ahead."



You don't need to read this blog post to know you're great!

2017-03-09T14:45:25.429+11:00

Hey there! This is a blog post solely intended for the purpose of not challenging your perceptions and not requiring any actual thought or engagement from the internet. In fact, you don't have to be reading this blog post at all to make an incredibly thoughtless, unsubstantiated comment upon it! Stop reading it right now!

Have you stopped reading it? Good! For too long, you see, the internet has been awash with interesting, provocative, reasoned arguments in favour of positions that people would really rather not go to the effort of engaging with. There is a crying need in the community for blog posts that enable people to make knee jerk, biased, uneducated comments on. But for some reason, people have insisted on being independent-minded, hard-working, and on educating themselves about issues before actually responding to them in some way. It's disgraceful!

HEY, YOU'RE STILL READING! Stop right now! That's better. You see, people all too often put the effort to reading every single word in a blog post before actually responding to it, even if the blog post expresses an opinion completely contrary to their own. Wait a second, I think I caught out a person reading the sentence above this one, which action is completely antithetical (if you have just read that word, (which I hope you haven't), but if you have, do not look it up, if you don't know what it means) to the purposes of this post. You see, this blog post has no opinion of its own, and it doesn't even matter if it does, because you don't have to worry about it anyway, as the only purpose - the sole, unitary goal - the single end point of this blog post - is to reflect back to you your own opinions anyway. Because it's nicer that way.

Now I know you've stopped reading this blog post before it even started, but I'm going to need you to not read this blog post even more now. Good. Now that I have even less readers than ever before, I'm just going to say something: I like pineapple on pizza. Did you hear that? NO, OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T, because it doesn't matter anyway. and even if it does matter, it doesn't, because you're not reading this. So feel free to vent, fume, rageclick, vomit torrents of ideology, or swear about the horrible opinions I probably haven't expressed in the course of this blog post which you didn't read anyway, because that is the only purpose of this blog post!

You know (of course you don't!), this hasn't been a really learning, growing experience for all of us. Thank you for not actually taking your time to read any of this, you lovable, scrofulous, unhygienic nincompoops. It's been my absolute displeasure.



Give me the symbol life

2017-03-11T21:04:48.153+11:00

Female traffic light signals to go up at pedestrian crossing as Committee for Melbourne tackles 'unconscious bias'
Pedestrian traffic lights depicting female figures will be installed in Melbourne's CBD today as a part of a lobby group's push for gender equality... The Committee for Melbourne — a non-profit organisation comprising more than 120 Melbourne business and community groups — is behind the move.
Now some people may say we are literally only making a symbolic change to traffic light symbols, but I say no! In making a literally symbolic change, the Committee for Melbourne are making a bold new symbolically literal change, which will literally change things for the better (for symbols)! For too long gender discrimination has existed in the literal world of symbols, and symbols  have been symbolically demonstrating for a literal change to their symbolism for symbolic years!

Furthermore, it may seem to some of our more annoying discerning readers that in pushing for this literally symbolic change to literal symbols, the Committee are literally making the wrong symbolic reading of the literal symbols, and are therefore being illiterately symbolic, or only symbolically literate, or something... anyway, the claim is, what's all this about women not being able to wear trousers? Can't the little symbolic traffic light person be a symbolic woman? But again, I say, no! In order to effect this literally symbolic change, or this symbolically literal change (I forget what now), the Committee will use literally the best symbols to symbolise their literally symbolic women! Like rolling pins! And stilettos! And beehive hairdos! You'll be literally blown away by how symbolically womanish they'll be!

And also plus in addition, some people might object that the meanings of 'literally' and 'symbolically'  have become so blurred nowadays that they are effectively one and the same word, and that my blog post means nothing. In which case, I would literally be forced to utter a very rude symbol indeed. Like, literally literally.



Resting bitch face: a photographic meditation

2017-03-03T15:42:41.678+11:00

Resting bitch face.

Besting rich face.


Itching breast face.


Resting butch face.


Thank you for your time.

PS - I've done my research, thanks very much!

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