RE: THE THREAD!!!

RE: THE THREAD!!! (Full Version)

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pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:00:08 AM)
Saw a T lookalike at the dog show...

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:00:54 AM)
"Page for Mr. Poosterhooski. Mr. Poosterhooski. Please pick up the white phone."

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:02:54 AM)
Once we were conquistadores, Became emperores, Now we have an el presidente...

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:03:40 AM)
Once I was a sailor going to sea For some sport fishing, my friend Queequeg and me

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:04:12 AM)
He said old Ahab had just made one mistake, Didn't know the right kind of cargo to take.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:05:15 AM)
You see, he'd burdened the Pequod with too heavy a load. Was the head of a pin filled up with all the true love he'd known.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:06:01 AM)
You know, this world spins on so hopelessly And with each revolution, another soul dies Unnaturally.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:07:03 AM)
I love Boswell's Life of Johnson. I very much identify with the character of Johnson Boswell depicts.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:08:05 AM)
For example, Dr. Johnson was at a dinner one evening, chomping and smacking and belching away like a rescued sailor.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:09:05 AM)
People around him became alarmed, as the sweat was running down his face, he was gasping for breath, and forking away the food so fast, they were certain he would choke or otherwise expire.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:10:25 AM)
As they were thinking they ought to say or do something, he decided he had finished, dipped his hand in the fingerbowl, washed off while belching, farting, grunting, and otherwise indicating his pleasure at what he had partaken of.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:11:02 AM)
Then, he said, "Now, this was a dinner good enough, but not such a one as you would invite a man to."

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:11:50 AM)
Ah, Samuel Johnson. A curmudgeon after my own heart. You think there might be a family connection between us?

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:13:42 AM)
Another time, he was in a salon waiting for the other guests to arrive. Along with him as an early arrival was a certain Vicar Empshaw. Johnson was walking around the room, talking to himself, probably thinking out the consequences of a particular line of thought that had just occurred to him.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:15:11 AM)
He was gesturing, grimacing, growling, snorting, even yelping at times like a dog. The good vicar figured that his host for the evening had befriended a poor mental defective and invited him to dinner, and prepared to congratulate the host on his charity.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:16:57 AM)
Johnson had a way of laying his head over onto his shoulder and extending his arm, then clucking his tongue against his upper palate, making a "Tock! Tock! Tock!" sound. He was doing this, and the vicar became alarmed, thinking that the poor man was about to go into some kind of seizure, so the vicar went to summon the master of the house.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:19:04 AM)
When they returned, they found the author Samuel Richardson in conversation with Johnson who came forth with a reasoned argument so cogent and thorough that the vicar, astonished, thought that, just then, the poor imbecile had been divinely inspired with a moment of wisdom.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:21:40 AM)
When Johnson was engaged in conversational argument, he would often sit back, put his hands on his hips, puff out his cheeks, and blow out his breath as noisily and wetly as possible, as if to indicate that he had simply blown his opponent's opinion away.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:23:31 AM)
Johnson and Boswell's famed "Highland Jaunt" to the remoter areas of Scotland provides another fun glimpse into Johnson's character. During the tour, the two would often engage in arguments, sometimes approaching the level of physical violence being done.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:25:32 AM)
Once, Boswell was advancing a particular religious theorem based on the writings of Bishop Carlysle. As Boswell prated on, Johnson, becoming more and more irked at what Boswell was saying, started pacing up and down on the path they had been walking.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:27:07 AM)
"So, how do you refute Bishop Carlysle?" asked Boswell in summation. Johnson looked up, red-faced, strode up to a boulder lying nearby, and proceeded to kick it repeatedly. "I refute him THUS!" declared Johnson.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:28:20 AM)
How'd you like to have Johnson on the forums here? I think maybe we have, and he's been banned already. I doubt that it would take him very long.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:31:43 AM)
You know, for a retired guy, this is gettin' to be a little too much like work.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:33:38 AM)
Don't you know, I wish I was the man Who taught water how to become ice? 'Cause he's the kind of charlatan You listen to without even thinking twice.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:35:58 AM)
A long time ago in a place called Iowa City, Iowa, I saw a guy sit down at a table on one of the main streets of town with a big glass jar in front of him. He was going to set a world record for greatest number of poems written in 24 hours. The idea was that he would write them on slips of paper and stuff them into the glass jar to be read and counted after the 24 hours were up. I don't remember what the previous record was.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:37:17 AM)
So, big pile of pens in front of him, he set to work, scribbling away. He would write, think, write some more, then put down his pen, crease the paper, and stick it down the neck of the jar.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:39:35 AM)
It didn't take long before you could see that it was getting really tough for him to keep going. I mean, I peeked at one of his poems, and it was even worse than some of the stuff I was writing at the time - and that reeked like an Iowa hog farm in July (and if you've never smelled an Iowa hog farm in July, you haven't lived).

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:43:04 AM)
But, he stuck with it. Hour after hour. My vantage point was the local watering hole across the street called "The Copper Dollar," which had a big window in the front with a counter inside where you could sit, drink beer, and use bar-provided cards to rate the women who walked by on a scale of "1" to "10." You sat there with your pals, hit the sauce, and when some unsuspecting lovely (or not-so-lovely) walked by, you held the card up to the window that had the number on it reflecting your evaluation of the lady's "talents."

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:44:48 AM)
This day, though, the premier attraction was the dude across the street writing poetry like a madman. We'd have a couple of schwiels, exchange smart remarks, go shoot a couple of games of pool, then come back and do it again. It was about as good a time as you can have in a place like Iowa City, Iowa.

pasternakski -> RE: THE THREAD!!! (7/20/2008 6:47:57 AM)
Well, to make a long story short, it got late. The sun went down. Our diligent poet fired up a lantern, and kept on scribbling, folding, and stuffing. By then, he was in what sports idiots call a "zone." It was rolling right along. Cops showed up. I guess nobody bothered to get this deal approved by the city before they did it. They told him to beat it. Almost caused a riot (probably a few hours before when everybody was a lot less drunk, we all would have said "f*** it" and gone home). I guess they figured it didn't hurt anything, so they left him alone.

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