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BS: The Mother of all BS threads

Rapparee 10 Mar 07 - 02:34 PM
Amos 10 Mar 07 - 12:35 PM
JennyO 10 Mar 07 - 12:09 PM
Amos 10 Mar 07 - 11:49 AM
JennyO 10 Mar 07 - 11:07 AM
Acme 10 Mar 07 - 10:52 AM
JennyO 10 Mar 07 - 10:27 AM
Rapparee 10 Mar 07 - 09:59 AM
Amos 10 Mar 07 - 12:16 AM
Acme 10 Mar 07 - 12:09 AM
Amos 09 Mar 07 - 10:27 PM
Amos 09 Mar 07 - 05:21 PM
Rapparee 09 Mar 07 - 03:21 PM
Rapparee 09 Mar 07 - 02:19 PM
Acme 09 Mar 07 - 01:45 PM
Rapparee 09 Mar 07 - 12:29 PM
Amos 09 Mar 07 - 10:00 AM
Amos 09 Mar 07 - 09:39 AM
Rapparee 09 Mar 07 - 09:29 AM
Amos 09 Mar 07 - 09:22 AM
Rapparee 09 Mar 07 - 09:18 AM
Acme 08 Mar 07 - 11:18 PM
Amos 08 Mar 07 - 11:17 PM
Amos 08 Mar 07 - 08:34 PM
GUEST,Tinker Bell 08 Mar 07 - 06:15 PM
Rapparee 08 Mar 07 - 04:02 PM
Amos 08 Mar 07 - 03:45 PM
MMario 08 Mar 07 - 03:10 PM
Amos 08 Mar 07 - 03:05 PM
Rapparee 08 Mar 07 - 01:03 PM
Amos 08 Mar 07 - 11:20 AM
Acme 08 Mar 07 - 10:42 AM
MMario 08 Mar 07 - 09:40 AM
Amos 08 Mar 07 - 09:36 AM
Rapparee 08 Mar 07 - 09:28 AM
Rapparee 07 Mar 07 - 09:52 PM
Amos 07 Mar 07 - 05:26 PM
Acme 07 Mar 07 - 05:14 PM
Acme 07 Mar 07 - 05:14 PM
Acme 07 Mar 07 - 05:13 PM
Acme 07 Mar 07 - 05:13 PM
Rapparee 07 Mar 07 - 04:38 PM
Amos 07 Mar 07 - 03:06 PM
Little Hawk 07 Mar 07 - 02:52 PM
Acme 07 Mar 07 - 02:42 PM
MMario 07 Mar 07 - 01:23 PM
Rapparee 07 Mar 07 - 01:19 PM
MMario 07 Mar 07 - 01:09 PM
Amos 07 Mar 07 - 01:05 PM
Acme 07 Mar 07 - 12:54 PM
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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 02:34 PM

Actually, Stonewall Jackson didn't say anything at all like that. He was a man of peace, and those weren't soldiers with him, it was an anti-war rally on the way to New York City. They did not shoot up poor old Barbara's window and flagstaff, but what they actually did was stand underneath and sing "Give Peace A Chance" until the pigs clubbed and gassed them to make them move on. Hell man, I mean, this WAS the '60s, ya know?

(Did you ever hear about Chance Talliaferro, a member of Tappa Kegga Beer fraternity down at old UVa? He was trying to "make it" with a chick from the sorority next door, but she wasn't having any. He complained to his frat brother, who gathered outside her window and sang "All we are saying/Is give Chance a piece." No, I didin't think so.)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 12:35 PM

Well, I confess, it was intentional, an overlay of risqué humor in sharp contrast to the grim intent of Stonewall Jackson's communique to his soldiers.

But I am curious what it means. I guess it means in a rough outdoorsy way with no pomp or circumstance, no wake, and no trimmings.

Speaking of that, there are a number of traffic control signs in the inlets of Mission Bay here in San Diego which threaten people who mis-behave driving their motorboats, in a similar vein. Not that they threaten doggy-style dying in toto but they do say, sternly, "No Wake". I suppose to some folks that is like going to bed without any supper. It's enough to make you throttle back, and you can see the efficacy of ity as boats approach the harbor and slow down. I am surprised how many people care that much about death rituals, but there is no accounting for what some folks have on their shaggy-baggy minds.

And speaking of that, did Toto die like a dog after the WIzard of Oz had run its course? Or did he face his death like a man? How about the Tin Woodman?

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: JennyO
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 12:09 PM

Amos, every time you mention doggy-style, it brings to mind entirely different images from the things being discussed here. Mom would be shocked! Although I imagine she's been round the block sixteen thousand times or so, so maybe not.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 11:49 AM

If the list is so long, it must not answer the question in the context of Stonewall's threat. All organisms can die of many means -- shock, organ failure, lightning, drowning, etc. But what is so different about the way -- not the means but the style or manner -- of dying doggie-style? What is the secret of dying like a dog?


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: JennyO
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 11:07 AM

Well! I'm shocked! How could Mom possibly think I would post an untruth? The very idea! I might have to go and drown my sorrows in a few glasses of scrumpy. Preferably with no dead dogs in it.

But of course you know what they say - never let the truth get in the way of a good story ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 10:52 AM

Mom thinks someone made up that story, JennyO.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: JennyO
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 10:27 AM

Or, like Bendigo, they might drown in a vat of cider and leave a lasting impression:

DEAD DOG CIDER (SCRUMPY)

After the singing of Norman & Betty MacDonald Bristol-Birmingham, UK
Tune: Bonnie Scotsman/Eight More Miles to Louisville
New chorus by Charlie Ipcar 1998

In eighteen hundred and forty-nine, in a little cider mill,
A poor old dog lay down to rest, for he was feeling ill;
He chose a most precarious perch, above the apple press,
And– in his sleep he tumbled in and perished in distress.

This caused his master for to grieve, likewise his mistress too,
And so their sorrows to relieve, they sampled of the brew;
"Gadzooks," cried Farmer Afwater, "the likes I ne'r did sup;
Let's summon all the neighbors in, and bid them take a cup."

Now, here's to Dead Dog Cid-er, the best there is by far;
Here's to Dead Dog Cid-er, no moaning at the bar;
You can search this wide world over, find many a beer or ale;
But when you've tried Dead Dog Cider – your search will be curtailed!

Now everyone that drank that night got drunk as drunk could be,
And wondered how the scrumpy had acquired such potency;
The farmer kept his council, as he took another drop,
When all at once that poor old dog came floating to the top.

A silence fell around the room, and everyone did frown,
For they recognized old Bendigo though he was upside down;
The parson lost his collar and collapsed upon the floor,
And the squire split his britches in the rush to reach the door...

"Oh, halt," cried Farmer Afwater, "for in his life I vow,
He never bit man nor beast, nor will he bite ye now;
And this shall be his epitaph, 'Here lies old faithful Ben
Who perished in the cider vat, only to rise again.'"*

So if you're down in Devon, and you stops off at a bar,
Just call for Dead Dog Cider, it's the best there is by far;
Refuse all imitations and you'll sleep just like a log,
You can always recognize it by – the hair of the dog...


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 09:59 AM

Well, here's a list, but ultimately they all died of heart failure, just like you and me:

shot
old age
drowned
buried alive (got an felony animal cruelty charge on this one!)
burned alive (ditto)
slaughtered, cooked, and eaten
run to death
dog fight
lethal infection
run over
left in the country because "the farmers will take care of it"
gassed
eaten or mauled by wild animals
hung (see felony, above)
cancer, distemper, and other diseases


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 12:16 AM

How exactly DOES a dog die, anyway? The ones I have known were hit by cars, which hardly counts. I guess some just lie down and go to sleep and die like that, just like some old humans. What is different about dying doggy-style?


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Mar 07 - 12:09 AM

Mom's favorite lines are

'Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!' he said.


They make her feel safe and loved.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 10:27 PM

Yo're a grand olde dame,
Though you must be insane
To hang round on this profligate thread!
You don't make a sound
While Mom sinks down,
Then you save her by the hair on her head!
But it must be clear
That it's awfully queer
To trade life for this chatter, I guess;
But if all your family
Finds you gone,
We'll come looking 'round the old B.S.!!

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 05:21 PM

Steal if you must these hoary poems,
But spare thy Mother's mind, she moaned....



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 03:21 PM

"Shoot if you must this old gray head,
But spare my union suit," she said.

                     -- Bullwinkle T. Moose


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 02:19 PM

UP from the stillhouse rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,

The flustered friar Frederick fans
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 01:45 PM

Mom, it's time for a Grand Old Dame to make an appearance, I do believe. Even if she never actually made an appearance like this.


Barbara Frietchie
John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892)

UP from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,

The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.

Round about them orchards sweep,         
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,

Fair as the garden of the Lord
To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,

On that pleasant morn of the early fall
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall;         

Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.

Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,

Flapped in the morning wind: the sun         
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down;         

In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.

Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

Under his slouched hat left and right         
He glanced; the old flag met his sight

'Halt!'—the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
'Fire!'—out blazed the rifle-blast.

It shivered the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.         

Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf.

She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.

'Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,         
But spare your country's flag,' she said.

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;

The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word;         

'Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!' he said.

All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet:

All day long that free flag tost         
Over the heads of the rebel host.

Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well;

And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night.         

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

Honor to her! and let a tear
Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,         
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!

Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;

And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 12:29 PM

My sword is hung upon the wall
Likewise my pistol bold
And ne'er again shall I ride
To take another's gold.

No more the moonlit purple moor
No more the silver'y road
To my "Stand and deliver!" they will no longer quiver
My pistol I'll no longer load.

For I've taken the road to the life literare
Vain, deluding joys I've forsook
Now every Sunday you'll find me in church
Into the Good Book I look.

My horse now pulls a one-horse shay
My life is turned around
The noose no longer threatens me
As through the town I bound.

And yet the sword exerts a pull!
And yet the highway calls!
And yet the pistol calls for food --
Now Away! While I have the balls!

          -- Hortense McGillicudy, Poems of Fen and Fetlock,
             (Seehorn, Illinois: Forte et Dure Press, 1847)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 10:00 AM

Come all you bad rounders
And listen to me,
And I'll sing you the ballad
Of Bold Raparee
A gentleman sober,
A terror when full,
An erudite scholar,
And handy with bull.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

A man of great knowledge
Was this erudite cat,
From Dewey to Doctorow,
He had them down pat
He could send you long sections
Of Greeks from the shelf,
Tho' he'd often let on
He'd composed them himself!

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

He'd a good wife and family
And brothers most fond
And friends in the Legion,
And over the pond
But he was not contented,
And the story is sad,
For his one aspiration
Was to truly Be Bad!

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

He forsook all his learning
And his Library post
And from honest man's earnings
He gave up the ghost,
He went to his Mother
To learn how to sin,
And the answer she gave him
Made his poor brain to spin.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

She told him quite plainly
"Don't act so perplexed!
For the problem is just
That you get no respect!
You're growing a tummy,
And losing your mane
And the folks down at MOAB
Will just cause you pain."

But if you will listen,
And take this advice
We can make you a Monster
In half of a trice!"
"Go log on to iTunes
Where they sell MP3s
And find you some old ones
From Crofut's LPs.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

And if you are lucky
As you snoop around
You'll discover the story
Of Bad Leroi Brown."
Now sharpen your pencil
And listen quite well,
And you soon will become
The librarian from hell."

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

This bold man of books
Took good Counsel from Ma
And he swore he would soon live
Outside of the law.
He got him a razor,
110 volts A.C.,
Shoved it into his Weejums
Which were 10 triple-E.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

Then he went to a gun fair
To follow his fate
And he brought back a carload
Of monstrous weight
There were handguns and air-guns
Both stainless and blued
Though he limped when he'd heft 'em
From the Braun in his shoe.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

But in spite of the pain,
He did strut up and down
Saying "I'll be the baddest
Librarian in town!"
So he strapped on the iron
Just hoping for fun;
But it took him two hours
To pack thirty-eight guns

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!

And the weight of those weapons
Forced his pants to the floor
And he cursed and he cried
And he sweated and swore
Then he found his solution!
It made his heart dance!
He bought eight pairs of braces
Clipped all 'round his pants.

And it's hands on your sheathes lads,
And keep the blades free,
On your guard for a visit
From Bold Raparee!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:39 AM

I notice he was kind about your age; he seems a nice coach, if perhaps a tad battle-scarred! :D


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:29 AM

Yet, yet a moment, one dim Ray of Light
Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night!

   Of darkness visible so much be lent,
As half to shew, half veil the deep Intent.
Ye Pow'rs! whose Mysteries restor'd I sing,
To whom Time bears me on his rapid wing,
Suspend a while your Force inertly strong,
Then take at once the Poet and the Song.

   Now flam'd the Dog-star's unpropitious ray,
Smote ev'ry Brain, and wither'd ev'ry Bay;
Sick was the Sun, the Owl forsook his bow'r,
The moon-struck Prophet felt the madding hour:
Then rose the Seed of Chaos, and of Night,
To blot out Order, and extinguish Light,
Of dull and venal a new World to mold,
And bring Saturnian days of Lead and Gold.


But, no. Indulge, instead, yourself with a good video. A really good video, like this
one.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:22 AM

Time will pass, but will not tell,
What goes on with BWL.
In his quiet moments brooding,
No demands of life intruding,
Shall he bring forth revelations?
Poems or tales, or condemnations?
Times he heard old Spawser flatulate?
Diatribes on objects spatulate?
Perhaps he will, perhaps he'll not
Perhaps his brain's now gone to pot.
But only time will pass and tell,
In any case we wish him well,
The silent MOABite, B.L.

Gordon Rumsey McKinney McAlistair Dunedin Fifer IV,
Scotty Doggerel: Kilt's Secrets and Highland Ballads
Whett, Macintosh, Inverain
Edinborough, 2004
A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 09 Mar 07 - 09:18 AM

I have time on my wrist!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 11:18 PM

BWL has a little time on his hands. . . ? Maybe there will be a good story out of this search?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 11:17 PM

A pox on those who better know
Than letting Mother drift so low,
Those spirits bright with hands of skill
Who have the wit but lack the will!
And those who sometimes take on airs
And say that others do not care
And those whose lives are left to coast
And borrow other's words to post.
Those Murphys, Flynns, and lowly Flanagans
Who pester Mom with such shenanigans
Are not deserving, by my lights,
To call themselves proud MOABites
And I am certain taht 't is true
That should the noble King Khandu
Discover now what dross has grown
Around the MOAB's soaring stones,
What damp has muffled now her drum,
And to what fate poor Mom has come,
I'm certain he would lose his head,
ANd maybe start another thread!
Then where would we be? Where would we write?
What would we do, alone at night?
I prithee, therefore, mend your ways,
And surface from your sleepy daze,
And write BS, both good and fair
To show the MOAB that you care;
Post once, post twice! And do not stop,
Until our Mom is back on top!

Winsfield Gathering-Hays III,
Ruminations on Transcendent Truth Amongst Friends
Penny-Dreadful Literary House
Cocksbane-by-Gender, 1937


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 08:34 PM

He went ta da Big Apple, Tink, to try his luck. He tole me, "If I can make it deah, I'll make it anywheah....". But, unfortunately, he got completely Panned.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Tinker Bell
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 06:15 PM

Peter? Has anyone around here seen my Peter? I think I've lost my Peter. I'll bet that bitch Wendy has my Peter. She's been after my Peter for a long time.

Please let me know if you see find my Peter.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 04:02 PM

Or "to poke someone full of holes using a pointy head or hair."


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 03:45 PM

We can argue the etymology evolved from "spear" to the "jab someone full of leaks" meaning to "think like a seive" to "make assertions like a pointy-haired boss" over the last few centuries.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 03:10 PM

The media keeps creating new words, werbs, etc, so why can't we here at MOAB.

Though I nearly tossed my cookies at "webinar" from LH. *gag*

now - to pileate; eitehr definition, sound like a perfectly good verb to me.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 03:05 PM

SPoken like a Master Librarian, Doctor Rapaire. But this does not aregue that there should be a verb "to pileate" as in to jab someone full of leaks, for example. I like the pointy-headed defintion.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 01:03 PM

"Pileated" (as in the woodpecker) comes from the Latin "pilius", which was a kind of short spear or javelin.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 11:20 AM

There is no verb "to pileate", but if there were, I would imagine it would mean something like "to act pointy-headed, or to make an assertion in the manner of a pointy-headed person."

"We don't have to explain our actions if they aren't logical," he pileated.

Or, "It's not plagiarism if I change more than one-third of the substantive nouns in the original," he pileated.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 10:42 AM

I think he pileated, not plagiarized. His pointy head is what Amos was thinking about.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 09:40 AM

Rapaire plagiarized the raspberry scones? That doesn't sound very appetizing. I usually just pat the dough into a circle, cut into eighths and bake.

no plagiarization


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 09:36 AM

Plagiarize!
Remember why the good Lord made your eyes,
And plagiarize, plagiarize, plagiarize!

(Tom Lehrer)


Some day, in the pre-dawn dark, when the rest of the world is asleep, yon Rapaire will be rudely awoken by a loud knock on his door.

There will be no trial, nor jury. The sentencing will be swift, the punishment brutal and ugly.

Oh, I know, it's not his fault. There are psychological reasons; his brain overflows with others' words, and he must relieve the pressure somehow. It's the price of serving in the Great Librarian Army, the invisible but mighty force that stands like a bulwark between America and the encroaching forces of illiteracy and stupidity. A slipping, decaying bulwark, perhaps, but a bulwark still. An occupational hazard, a sacrifice for the Greater Good of Man. Rapaire is an instrument of Literacy and a simple vessel for Knowledge, and if the vessel overflows and its contents occasionaly stain the carpet or ruin the electronics, how small a price for the glory of his larger mission?

But brutal, all this notwithstanding, it shall be.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 08 Mar 07 - 09:28 AM

Mom! You're alone and palely loitering among the sedge! Am I the only one who cares???? Let me help you get back, get back to where you once belonged. That's it...here's a nice cup of tea, just as you like it, with honey and lemon and a drop of whisky to keep away the dew. And do try one of these raspberry scones; I made them myself just for you.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 09:52 PM

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me, from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, and it's him who wets the bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow -
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller, like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so doggone drunk I can't find him at all!

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd like to stick to Kathy, tho', like shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I 'rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy head,
Had stayed at home behind me and I found him later, dead.

            --Robert Louis Svensen, "A Child's Garden of Manure"
             (Mayo, YT: Friz Press Press), 1813


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 05:26 PM

ANd now the count is sixteen five!
Yon Stilly rode 'em hard,
To ramp up such a slough of posts,
While sitting in her yard.
But cooly, cooly made her bid,
And cooly played her hand,
And the sons of Mom smile with aplomb --
They're in for seventeen grand.

Oh the souls are strange on the MOAB range,
Where the skies run high and far,
And you never know where you're gonna go
Hitched up to the MOAB star.
But throw misgivings to the past,
And for the future, stand;
Get a feeling for the Great Thread wheeling
West past seventeen grand.

Maybe bold Rapaire will take her there,
With his borrowed rhymes and punctures!
Or perhaps old Bunn will be the one,
To dive in at the vital juncture.
It could be some star from a corner bar,
Or a road-worn carny hand.
But whoever 'tis, just be sure of this:
She's heading for seventeen grand.

Dorrit Micawber Hernandez
The Climb of Nonsense and Other Stories
Algonquin Press, New York, 1928


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 05:14 PM

about numerous things


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 05:14 PM

Or you'll just get upset


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 05:13 PM

In addition to not getting upset about our enjoyment of sunshine, you shouldn't try to diagram that sentence, either.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 05:13 PM

I sat on the front porch and enjoyed the sun for a while with the dogs today.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 04:38 PM

(He leans back in his chair and looks out the window at the budding trees contrasting with the snow-clad mountains and pours himself another cup of coffee [Lodge Blend, from Heritage Coffee Company in Juneau, Alaska}).


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 03:06 PM

(Shakes head sympathetically and goes out for a stroll in his shirtsleeves along the green lawns at work.)


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 02:52 PM

No groundhog has shown his face around here. We're socked in with snow and frigid temperatures.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 02:42 PM

and your coat and your snowshoes, sounds like!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 01:23 PM

Oh kill in balm, oh Krill in balm
how springlike are thy brunches...







I'll get my hat...


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 01:19 PM

Out here, we're enjoying spring-like balm intermingled with a bit of krill.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 01:09 PM

gee willikers - that's what we do in MAY - when we can (almost) count on the temperature staying above 32 degrees F. We won't mention the infamous Mother's Day Blizzard, or the not infrequent killing frosts that we have been known to get in May.

Haven't seen hide nor hair of any of our *local* groundhogs yet so far this year...and given the snowcover their tracks would be highly visible not to mention their holes if they burrowed up through the snow. And we normally have a LOT of groundhogs.

Did you know they are the largest member of the marmot family?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 01:05 PM

Spring-like balm intermingled with a bit of cill, occasional showers. I even have to wear a jacket sometimes in the early morning. Teejus, innit?


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 07 Mar 07 - 12:54 PM

It is March now, MMario. Haven't you made a big deal about it so the weather comes around to behaving itself? Get out your gardening tools or something. The wading pool for the kids. Show some intent.


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