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BS: The Mother of all BS threads

Amos 02 Nov 08 - 09:19 AM
Rapparee 02 Nov 08 - 09:55 AM
Acme 02 Nov 08 - 02:08 PM
Rapparee 02 Nov 08 - 06:11 PM
Amos 02 Nov 08 - 06:27 PM
Amos 02 Nov 08 - 07:19 PM
Acme 02 Nov 08 - 07:34 PM
Janie 02 Nov 08 - 07:49 PM
Rapparee 02 Nov 08 - 08:44 PM
Janie 02 Nov 08 - 09:20 PM
Acme 02 Nov 08 - 09:48 PM
Rapparee 02 Nov 08 - 10:02 PM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 12:04 AM
MMario 03 Nov 08 - 08:45 AM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 09:05 AM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 09:40 AM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 10:01 AM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 04:03 PM
Little Hawk 03 Nov 08 - 04:08 PM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 04:20 PM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 04:25 PM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 04:47 PM
Little Hawk 03 Nov 08 - 05:08 PM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 05:26 PM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 05:34 PM
Little Hawk 03 Nov 08 - 05:57 PM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 06:05 PM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 06:09 PM
Little Hawk 03 Nov 08 - 06:12 PM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 06:22 PM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 06:40 PM
Little Hawk 03 Nov 08 - 06:42 PM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 06:43 PM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 06:49 PM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 06:56 PM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 08:04 PM
Rapparee 03 Nov 08 - 09:35 PM
Amos 03 Nov 08 - 10:27 PM
Little Hawk 03 Nov 08 - 10:48 PM
Acme 04 Nov 08 - 12:07 AM
Rapparee 04 Nov 08 - 08:14 AM
Acme 04 Nov 08 - 09:43 AM
Amos 04 Nov 08 - 10:58 AM
Rapparee 04 Nov 08 - 11:46 AM
Amos 04 Nov 08 - 11:52 AM
Rapparee 04 Nov 08 - 11:55 AM
Rapparee 04 Nov 08 - 11:59 AM
Amos 04 Nov 08 - 12:03 PM
Little Hawk 04 Nov 08 - 12:21 PM
Amos 04 Nov 08 - 12:28 PM
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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 09:19 AM

It make look like grace to you, but you will notice that the main component in all your graceful numbers is a big fat zero. And we all know that ZERO is a Muslim invention.

Why do you hate America, Rapaire?



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 09:55 AM

Au contraire, mon vieux -- zero is an Arabic invention. As I am sure you are aware, there is a difference.

I am sure, of course, that you are aware of the Paradoxes of Zeno of Elea and the discussion of zero therein, that Pingala (around the 3rd Century BCE, more or less) was using zero in calculations in India (where zero had been used as early as the 9th Century BCE), that it was used in Chiapas on the Long Count stela in 36 BCE, and that as long ago as the Song Dynasty mathematicians in China understood both negative numbers and zero (although they had no symbol for it). Naturally, by 130 CE Ptolemy, as influenced by Hipparchus, was using a symbol for zero.

But why should I go on? I'm certain you know all of this and likewise certain that you chose to ignore the multinational, indeed global, roots of mathematics.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 02:08 PM

Well? Did you get Mom something to eat? It's brunch by now. Add some ham or breakfast sausage to it.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 06:11 PM

I provided her with much nourishment: a rich assortment of croissants both regular and sweet, home-cured bacon and sausages, steel-cut oatmeal with maple sugar and pecans, and an apple streudel, with hot spiced apple cider to drink.

Amos provided her with nothing, nought, zero.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 06:27 PM

I have provided her with many more wonderful opsts than you have, so I suppose that compensates for your imaginary foodstuffs.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 07:19 PM

BEsides a Belgian Waffle with fresh cream and strawberries on it.


So there.

And I sent money to Obama. Neeener. Even though I already voted for him.



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 07:34 PM

I'll pull out a box of photos and show some to MOM tonight. I have to find the photos I took in 2004 when Stan James was singing at the Rainy Camp I was able to visit that year. sniff


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 07:49 PM

Well, Mom, while the boys were busy sniping at each other I saw 4 private clients, cleaned house, including mopping both the vinyl and the hardwood floors, raked leaves, did the grocery shopping, and continued to ponder where to plant the beautious and exotic japanese azalea Bobert brought to me at the Getaway.

I also counted the number of trees of significant size on my 100x145 lot.

Twnety-two. Mostly oaks of some sort with a few maples, some long-leaf pines, and one old and sick looking hemlock. Plus a few redbuds and old dogwoods that are tall and spindly from not enough sun under the canapy of the larger trees. Sister Annie came down a few weeks ago, and we committed a texas chainsaw execution to a number of smallish white pines that had cropped up at inopportune locations.

There are some whopper stumps from old oaks that had hollowed out and were taken down at some point.    I suspect at least some of holes in the center of those stumps lead to wormholes. I need to figure out which ones by spring so I don't plant ferns in them. Wormholes hate it when you clog their entryways with fern roots.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 08:44 PM

The center of those oak stumps were probably already holes when they were cut down. That happens to big old oaks. Ma Nature hollows 'em out.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Janie
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 09:20 PM

Yeh, I know. Those danged wormholes to other universes be so danged powerful they can even chew out the insides of the mighty oak!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 09:48 PM

But this is where String Theory comes in handy.

Tie a string to a new worm and send it through to see where it comes out (or IF it comes out).


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 02 Nov 08 - 10:02 PM

Find Gluon and send her/it/him, assuming you can get cooperation instead of leg humping.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 12:04 AM

Glun only humps you , Rapaire, because you so uncertain. Mostly he likes to watch sheafs of possible eigenstates fall into symmetry and count the parallel universes thereby brought into being.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: MMario
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 08:45 AM

? Is Amos talking dirty? Sounds it, with sheafs, and eigenstates and new universes being created.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 09:05 AM

All the universes are one to Amos.

It's simpler that way.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 09:40 AM

Now that my brother's October 8 birthday is long past (in fact the birthdays of both bothers are past), I will post this wonderful poem which celebrates another October 8 event very similar to my brother's birth:

The Great Chicago Fire
        Julia A. Moore

The great Chicago Fire, friends,
Will never be forgot;
In the history of Chicago
It will remain a darken spot.
It was a dreadful horrid sight
To see that City in flames;
But no human aid could save it,
For all skill was tried in vain.

In the year of 1871,
In October on the 8th,
The people in that City, then
Was full of life, and great.
Less than four days it lay in ruins,
That garden City, so great
Lay smouldering in ashes,
In a sad and pitiful state.

It was a sad, sad scene indeed,
To see the fire arise,
And hear the crackling of the flames
As it almost reached the skies,
And sadder still, to hear the moans,
Of people in the flames
Cry for help, and none could get,
Ah, die where they remained.

To see the people run for life;
Up and down the blazing streets,
To find then, their escape cut off
By the fiery flaming sheets,
And others hunting for some friend
That perhaps they never found,
Such weeping, wailing, never was known,
For a thousands miles around.

Some people were very wealthy
On the morning of the 10th.
But at the close of the evening,
Was poor, but felt content,
Glad to escape from harm with life
With friends they loved so well,
Some will try to gain more wisdom,
By the sad sight they beheld.

Five thousand people were homeless,
Sad wanderers in the streets,
With no shelter to cover them,
And no food had they to eat.
They wandered down by the lake side,
Lay down on the cold damp ground,
So tired and weary and homeless,
So the rich, the poor, was found.

Mothers with dear little infants,
Some clinging to the breast.
People of every description
All laid down there to rest,
With the sky as their covering,
Ah, pillows they had none.
Sad, oh sad, it must have been,
For those poor homeless ones.

Neighboring Cities sent comfort,
To the poor lone helpless ones,
And God will not forget them
In all the years to come.
Now the City of Chicago
Is built up anew once more,
And may it never be visited
With such a great fire no more.
------------
For your future enjoyment of this poem, note that it can easily be sung to the tune of "Puttin' On The Style" although you have to create your own chorus.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 10:01 AM

A new low for Mom, indeed, Rapaire!! You may add another notch to your belt of down-scale milestones made by your own hand. That was truly abysmal, and free of any tinge of merit, either as BS or as poetry. You have outdone your most awful self. You verge on Personal Shatnerization, an evanescent state of transcendental medocrity which, I add hopefully, may be accompanied by mystic south-bound spontaneous evaporation, as befits such a crystalline pool of purest piddle.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 04:03 PM

One more day; the Day of the CellPhone VOter is upon us....



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 04:08 PM

There are few who can touch Julia A. Moore's poetic gifts, except, of course, for the great William McGonagall, he who has no peer. What a splendid couple they would have made, and THINK of the stunning collaborative works which might have resulted from such a match made in poetic heaven!

And they might have had progeny, the descendants of which would still be with us today, continuing to write.

The world has really missed out on something there.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 04:20 PM

Progeny? No, certainly not...LH, you don't mean...That Man From San Diego might be...nah, it couldn't be...could it?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 04:25 PM

Now that Little Hawk has exposed his sentiments like a beery overweight football fan mooning from a team bus window, I am beginning to understand where the drag on Mom's best creative aspirations come from. It is clearly a conspiracy between Book Man and Beaver Boy, to bind her to the mediocre, chain her to the compromised plane of insufferable average thought, and tie her down to the inept and uninspired levels which only they can represent so well.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 04:47 PM

Luke 12:48: "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required...."

I have been given much ability in that for which Mom is renowned, and so much is required of me.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 05:08 PM

There's a word for such as you, Amos, but I am far too polite to utter it in the presence of our dear "mother". ;-)


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 05:26 PM

I'm not!

Amos is a human, Amos is a human, na na na na nana.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 05:34 PM

Yeah, I know, I know, I'm an elitist, just like Obama, some brainy ivory-tower guy who throws big words around.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 05:57 PM

From the pen of Julia A. Moore, I give you...

William Upson

It will relieve his mother's heart,
That her son is laid in our grave yard;
Now she knows that his grave is near,
She will not shed so many tears.

She knows not that it was her son,
His coffin could not be opened ?
It might be some one in his place,
For she could not see his noble face.

He enrolled in eighteen sixty-three,
The next day after Christmas eve;
He died in eighteen sixty-four,
Twenty-third of March, as I was told.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:05 PM

Oh but that brings tears to my eyes! Even the very stones would weep if they could but read that!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:09 PM

An' it were so, indeed they would, recognizing the mind and heart of their very brother.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:12 PM

Yea, verily, and forsooth.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:22 PM

I have found these words to make you weep by the Immortal McGonagall:

The Death of Fred Marsden, the American Playwright

A pathetic tragedy I will relate,
Concerning poor Fred. Marsden's fate,
Who suffocated himself by the fumes of gas,
On the 18th of May, and in the year of 1888, alas!

Fred. Marsden was a playwright, the theatrical world knows,
And was highly esteemed by the people, and had very few foes;
And in New York, in his bedroom, he took his life away,
And was found by his servant William in his bedroom where he lay.

The manner in which he took his life : first he locked the door,
Then closed down the window, and a sheet to shreds he tore
And then stopped the keyholes and chinks through which air might come,
Then turned on the single gas-burner, and soon the deed was done.

About seven o'clock in the evening he bade his wife good-night,
And she left him, smoking, in his room, thinking all was right,
But when morning came his daughter said she smelled gas,
Then William, his servant, called loudly on him, but no answer, alas!

Then suspicion flashed across William's brain, and he broke open the door,
Then soon the family were in a state of uproar,
For the room was full of gas, and Mr Marsden quite dead,
And a more kind-hearted father never ate of the world's bread.

And by his kindness he spoiled his only child,
His pretty daughter Blanche, which made him wild;
For some time he thought her an angel, she was so very civil,
But she dishonoured herself, and proved herself a devil.

Her father idolised her, and on her spared no expense,
And the kind-hearted father gave her too much indulgence,
Because evening parties and receptions were got up for her sake,
Besides, he bought her a steam yacht to sail on Schroon Lake.

His means he lavished upon his home and his wife,
And he loved his wife and daughter as dear as his life;
But Miss Blanche turned to folly, and wrecked their home through strife,
And through Miss Marsden's folly her father took his life.

She wanted to ride, and her father bought her a horse,
And by giving her such indulgences, in morals she grew worse;
And by her immoral actions she broke her father's heart;
And, in my opinion, she has acted a very ungrateful part.

At last she fled from her father's house, which made him mourn,
Then the crazy father went after her and begged her to return,
But she tore her father's beard, and about the face beat him,
Then fled to her companions in evil, and thought it no sin.

Then her father sent her one hundred dollars, and found her again,
And he requested her to come home, but it was all in vain;
For his cruel daughter swore at him without any dread,
And, alas! next morning, he was found dead in his bed.

And soon theatrical circles were shocked to learn,
Of the sudden death of genial Fred Marsden,
Whose house had been famous for its hospitality,
To artists, litterateurs, and critics of high and low degree.

And now dear Mrs Marsden is left alone to mourn
The loss of her loving husband, whom to her will ne'er return;
But I hope God will be kind to her in her bereavement,
And open her daughter's eyes, and make her repent

For being the cause of her father's death, the generous Fred,
Who oft poor artists and mendicants has fed;
But, alas! his bounties they will never receive more,
Therefore poor artists and mendicants will his loss deplore.

Therefore, all ye kind parents of high and low degree,
I pray ye all, be advised by me,
And never pamper your children in any way,
Nor idolise them, for they are apt to go astray,

And treat ye, like pretty Blanche Marsden,
Who by her folly has been the death of one of the finest men;
So all kind parents, be warned by me,
And remember always this sad Tragedy!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:40 PM

Obviously, this piece is sheer adulterated drivel. For one thing, who ever heard of a generous fred?



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:42 PM

That is an impressive work, leaving really nothing further that could be said about the matter...


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:43 PM

I'm certain that freds would be generous and share your DNA. So if I were you, I wouldn't talk: you're certainly not rushing out to share it with them, are you?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:49 PM

Well, I see the "Mediocrity for Mom!" campaign is in full swing. I swan, If Keats, Yeats, Dylan Thomas and Bily the Shake all showed up and posted here in their very best style, you two would ignore it and find something by Edgar Guest or Aloysius Tabernacle Drone.

"It Takes A Heap of Livin...


It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything...."


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 06:56 PM

Amos, as it is said on the album "At the Gate of Horn":

"It takes o' heap o' heapin'
To make a heap o' heap."


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 08:04 PM

Well, Guest was right up there with Julia and McGonagle. But none of them could compare with Aloysius Tabernacle Drone.

I'll try to dig up one of his deathless sonnets for you in a bit.



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 09:35 PM

Granny
        
Granny's come to our house,
And ho! my lawzy-daisy!
All the childern round the place
Is ist a-runnin' crazy!
Fetched a cake fer little Jake,
And fetched a pie fer Nanny,
And fetched a pear fer all the pack
That runs to kiss their Granny!

Lucy Ellen's in her lap,
And Wade and Silas Walker
Both's a-ridin' on her foot,
And 'Pollos on the rocker;
And Marthy's twins, from Aunt Marinn's,
And little Orphant Annie,
All's a-eatin' gingerbread
And giggle-un at Granny!

Tells us all the fairy tales
Ever thought er wundered --
And 'bundance o' other stories --
Bet she knows a hunderd! --
Bob's the one fer "Whittington,"
And "Golden Locks" fer Fanny!
Hear 'em laugh and clap their hands,
Listenin' at Granny!

"Jack the Giant-Killer" 's good;
And "Bean-Stalk" 's another! --
So's the one of "Cinderell'"
And her old godmother; --
That-un's best of all the rest --
Bestest one of any, --
Where the mices scampers home
Like we runs to Granny!

Granny's come to our house,
Ho! my lawzy-daisy!
All the childern round the place
Is ist a-runnin' crazy!
Fetched a cake fer little Jake,
And fetched a pie fer Nanny,
And fetched a pear fer all the pack
That runs to kiss their Granny!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 10:27 PM

YEah, yeah. Shovel it like there's no tomorrow, but don't forget, as ye reap, so ye shall sow.



A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 03 Nov 08 - 10:48 PM

You swan, Amos?

Very well. I'll see your swan and raise you two ducks and an albatros.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 12:07 AM

I learned about Guest through his parody first.

Sinclair Lewis' T. Cholmondeley Frink, in Babbitt, "who was not only the author of "Poemulation," which, syndicated daily in sixty-seven leading newspapers, gave him one of the largest audiences of any poet in the world, but also an optimistic lecturer and the creator of "Ads that Add." Despite the searching philosophy and high morality of his verses, they were humorous and easily understood by any child of twelve; and it added a neat air of pleasantry to them that they were set not as verse but as prose. Mr. Frink was known from Coast to Coast as 'Chum.'"


Okay. Back to the BS.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 08:14 AM

California Madrigal

On The Approach Of Spring

Oh, come, my beloved, from thy winter abode,
From thy home on the Yuba, thy ranch overflowed;
For the waters have fallen, the winter has fled,
And the river once more has returned to its bed.

Oh, mark how the spring in its beauty is near!
How the fences and tules once more reappear!
How soft lies the mud on the banks of yon slough
By the hole in the levee the waters broke through!

All nature, dear Chloris, is blooming to greet
The glance of your eye and the tread of your feet;
For the trails are all open, the roads are all free,
And the highwayman's whistle is heard on the lea.

Again swings the lash on the high mountain trail,
And the pipe of the packer is scenting the gale;
The oath and the jest ringing high o'er the plain,
Where the smut is not always confined to the grain.

Once more glares the sunlight on awning and roof,
Once more the red clay's pulverized by the hoof,
Once more the dust powders the "outsides" with red,
Once more at the station the whiskey is spread.

Then fly with me, love, ere the summer's begun,
And the mercury mounts to one hundred and one;
Ere the grass now so green shall be withered and sear,
In the spring that obtains but one month in the year.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 09:43 AM

Did each of you take MOM to early voting? You know what they say--vote early and often.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 10:58 AM

Oh, come Californians, now rise up and start
With your guns by your side, in the pre-dawning dark
There's a hanging to do, men, with fire and art,
For Rapaire has been stealing the lines of Bret Harte!

COme down from the Placer, the North Fork, the Scott,
By the Elk and the Noyo leave your claims and you cots,
And fix up your lariats, and ready your knots
For its time that this poem-rustler learns what is what.

From the far Petaluma, where they skiffle for gold,
The American, Bear Creen, and Stanislaus cold,
Came the wild Californians, both ready and bold
To capture Rapaire, and his fate to unfold.

Well the first to espy him was Buffalo Jake,
And out of his kit his loop he did take,
ANd he laid out Rapaire like a quick-frozen hake,
On the cold muddy banks of the Tulare Lake.

Now the varmint was hollering, bout his rights in the law,
When Steamboat Slim gave him a clip to the jaw,
"WHen you lift from Brett Harte, sir, yo're outside the law!"
And outlaws are prime game for hanging, says Maw."

And there's where we leave them, in a terrible twist
The rowdy hard-rock men, and the pale plagiarist,
And if there's a moral here, it's probably this--
Don't steasl from Brett Harte, cuz the boys will get pissed.

Tuolumne Tom Baker
"The Wild Rhymes of the Californians"
Stockton, 1887


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 11:46 AM

A POEM
By Black Bart,
the Po8

I've labored long and hard for gold
For honor and for riches
But on my corns too long you've trod
You fine-haired sons-of-bitches.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 11:52 AM

Um...Rapaire...ya know I love you like a long-forgotten brother, but seems to me, I'm jes' saying, that when you step afoul of the law, and are surrounded by dusty, pissed-off Californios with WInchesters and a hemp rope, who are already annoyed with you for dragging them away from their claims in order to hunt you down....well, it just strikes me the thing to do is not wave your fist in sultry defiance, but to step up to your errors and admit them like a man, apologizxe and promise to sin no more. I am sure they'd rather save the cost of the rope, as they could use it for hauling up ore-cars or dragging around their milling parts.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 11:55 AM

THIS is Mark Twain on Bret Harte:

In the early days I liked Bret Harte and so did the others, but by and by I got over it; so also did the others. He couldn't keep a friend permanently. He was bad, distinctly bad; he had no feeling and he had no conscience.
- Mark Twain's Autobiography

Harte is a liar, a thief, a swindler, a snob, a sot, a sponge, a coward, a Jeremy Diddler, he is brim full of treachery, and he conceals his Jewish birth as if he considered it a disgrace.
- Letter to W. D. Howells, 6/1878

Harte, in a mild and colorless way, was that kind of man--that is to say, he was a man without a country; no, not man--man is too strong a term; he was an invertebrate without a country. He hadn't any more passion for his country than an oyster has for its bed; in fact not so much and I apologize to the oyster.
- Mark Twain's Autobiography

I detest him, because I think his work is 'shoddy.' His forte is pathos but there should be no pathos which does not come out of a man's heart. He has no heart, except his name, and I consider he has produced nothing that is genuine. He is artificial.
- interview in Sydney Australia Argus, 9/17/1895


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 11:59 AM

The Defence Of The Alamo

Santa Ana came storming, as a storm might come;
   There was rumble of cannon; there was rattle of blade;
There was cavalry, infantry, bugle and drum?
   Full seven thousand in pomp and parade.
The chivalry, flower of Mexico;
And a gaunt two hundred in the Alamo!

And thirty lay sick, and some were shot through;
   For the siege had been bitter, and bloody, and long.
"Surrender, or die!"?"Men, what will you do?"
   And Travis, great Travis, drew sword, quick and strong;
Drew a line at his feet. . . . "Will you come" Will you go?
I die with my wounded, in the Alamo."

Then Bowie gasped, "Lead me over that line!"
   Then Crockett, one hand to the sick, one hand to his gun,
Crossed with him; then never a word or a sign
   Till all, sick or well, all, all save but one,
One man. Then a woman stepped, praying, and slow
Across; to die at her post in the Alamo.

Then that one coward fled, in the night, in that night
   When all men silently prayed and thought
Of home; of to-morrow; of God and the right,
   Till dawn; and with dawn came Travis's cannon-shot,
In answer to insolent Mexico,
From the old bell-tower of the Alamo.

Then came Santa Ana; a crescent of flame!
   Then the red escalade; then the fight hand to hand;
Such an unequal fight as never had name
   Since the Persian hordes butchered that doomed Spartan band.
All day?all day and all night; and the morning? so slow,
Through the battle smoke mantling the Alamo.

Now silence! Such silence! Two thousand lay dead
   In a crescent outside! And within? Not a breath
Save the gasp of a woman, with gory gashed head,
   All alone, all alone there, waiting for death;
And she but a nurse. Yet when shall we know
Another like this of the Alamo?

Shout "Victory, victory, victory ho!"
   I say 'tis not always to the hosts that win!
I say that the victory, high or low,
   Is given the hero who grapples with sin,
Or legion or single; just asking to know
When duty fronts death in his Alamo.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 12:03 PM

Oh, yeah. That's like asking Dick CHeney what one should think of Barack Obama. Or maybe, more like asking Michelle Obama her opinion of Donald Rumsfeld. OR maybe....hell with it, anyway--Mister Twain obviously felt threatened by Mister Harte way back when.

And I do not need to point out that is only in sinning against a man that you come up with hypercritical attitudes about him, in order to lessen your own view of your own offense.

Thus, in your guilt at lifting Mister Harte's work without crediting it to him, you hve gone and dug up all the most currilous condemnations of him you could find. But it is not rationalization and justification that will enable you to sleep again at night, Rapaire. It is honesty.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Little Hawk
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 12:21 PM

Goodness sakes! What melodrama.

While the defence of the Alamo was indeed very courageous and they inflicted great numbers of casualties on the Mexicans...there is no need to call the one man who left a "coward". He was a man with a family, and he showed very good judgement (plus a good deal of courage) in attempting to slip out through the Mexican encirclement...not an easy thing to do. He might very well have died in the attempt (they would certainly have killed him if they caught him), but he made it.

He was not a coward. Like all the others at the fortress he was offered a clear and honorable choice by Travis:

1. stay and face certain death in a battle that cannot be won
2. or slip out now while you still can and take your chances with the Mexicans

Either choice was entirely honorable, and that's why Travis offered those 2 choices. To stay was bravado...or it was defiance...or it was sheer fatalism...or it was simply an unwillingness to show any form of supposed weakness before the others.

I put it to you that that is itself a common form of cowardice. It's the fear of what the others may think! That was one of the things that got a lot of young Japanese soldiers killed uselessly and unnecessarily in WWII. Don't you think that man's family were glad he got out alive to return to them? Would they rather he died under the Mexican bayonets? I don't think so, unless they were complete idiots.

There is no reason to disparage either the man who left or the men who stayed. They both took an honorable choice, and they both faced the frightening consequences. There was no easy way out of that situation, because Santa Ana had the place surrounded, and he had sworn to kill all its occupants.

As for the battle, it did not rage all day and all night fer Chrissake. The final assault came by surprise in the wee hours of the morning before dawn, and it was over by the time the sun was up. It was a relatively brief, desperate fight in the pre-dawn darkness. The Texicans did indeed inflict very heavy losses on the Mexicans...and both sides showed tremendous courage in the battle. The Mexicans took very heavy losses for two reasons:

1. They were assaulting a fortified position with massed infantry...which makes a superb target for rifles and cannons.
2. Many of the Texicans were quite experienced sharpshooters (people with hunting experience) and they were armed with good long distance rifles. This enabled them to kill a lot of Mexicans before the walls were scaled.

Santa Ana was reckless with his men. He didn't need to expose them in that fashion. He could have simply besieged the fort and starved it out and negotiated a surrender, but he was an impatient and arrogant man....and he obviously didn't really give a damn about the lives of his own soldiers. His autocratic incompetence throughout the campaign was what secured the Texan victory.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 04 Nov 08 - 12:28 PM

So, what, Rapaire? Harte wasn't rich enough soil for you to steal, so you went and lifted Joaquin Miller, too?

You think Texans will treat you any kindlier than the Californios whent hey catch up with you?


A


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