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BS: The Mother of all BS threads

GUEST,Bee-dubya again 11 Feb 05 - 11:27 AM
GUEST,Bee-dubya the Genius 11 Feb 05 - 11:20 AM
Bee-dubya-ell 11 Feb 05 - 11:19 AM
Acme 11 Feb 05 - 11:07 AM
Amos 11 Feb 05 - 10:54 AM
Bunnahabhain 11 Feb 05 - 10:40 AM
Rapparee 11 Feb 05 - 09:39 AM
Rapparee 11 Feb 05 - 09:11 AM
Amos 11 Feb 05 - 03:22 AM
Rustic Rebel 11 Feb 05 - 03:02 AM
Teresa 11 Feb 05 - 02:50 AM
Rustic Rebel 11 Feb 05 - 02:40 AM
Bee-dubya-ell 10 Feb 05 - 11:56 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 11:55 PM
Teresa 10 Feb 05 - 11:29 PM
Amos 10 Feb 05 - 11:24 PM
Amos 10 Feb 05 - 11:13 PM
Teresa 10 Feb 05 - 10:49 PM
Teresa 10 Feb 05 - 10:25 PM
Rapparee 10 Feb 05 - 10:08 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 10:00 PM
Amos 10 Feb 05 - 09:07 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 10 Feb 05 - 08:13 PM
Rapparee 10 Feb 05 - 08:09 PM
Bunnahabhain 10 Feb 05 - 07:07 PM
Teresa 10 Feb 05 - 06:25 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 06:16 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 10 Feb 05 - 06:16 PM
Rapparee 10 Feb 05 - 04:51 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 03:20 PM
Amos 10 Feb 05 - 01:11 PM
GUEST,MMario 10 Feb 05 - 12:59 PM
Layah 10 Feb 05 - 12:58 PM
Layah 10 Feb 05 - 12:49 PM
GUEST 10 Feb 05 - 12:46 PM
Bee-dubya-ell 10 Feb 05 - 12:46 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 12:39 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 12:35 PM
GUEST,heric 10 Feb 05 - 12:35 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 12:32 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 12:29 PM
Acme 10 Feb 05 - 12:28 PM
Layah 10 Feb 05 - 11:55 AM
GUEST,MMario 10 Feb 05 - 11:45 AM
Layah 10 Feb 05 - 11:34 AM
Bunnahabhain 10 Feb 05 - 11:30 AM
Rapparee 10 Feb 05 - 09:52 AM
Amos 10 Feb 05 - 05:28 AM
Teresa 10 Feb 05 - 01:54 AM
Bee-dubya-ell 10 Feb 05 - 01:47 AM
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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Bee-dubya again
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 11:27 AM

Frickin' Mudcat! So I posted that message on .org and it decided to just sit and spin for two or three minutes and act like it wasn't going through. So I closed the window and came in throught the backdoor and, nope, it wasn't on the page. So I posted it again and VIOLA! The original message had somehow finally made it through cyberspace.

Maybe it was just so profound that the .org server had to mull over it a bit before posting it to the thread. But, hey, it's a great message. It deserves to be posted twice.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,Bee-dubya the Genius
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 11:20 AM

Eureka! I habv fount it!

First, I must apologize to my brother Rapaire for my hastiness in belittling his GUT post. Little did I know that his post would provide the impetus for my own Eureka moment.

Now, as we all know, in the world of particle physics, terms like color, up/down, flavor and spin are merely analogs. They serve as convenient means by which to talk about properties that can only be truly expressed mathematically. "Spin" to a particle physicist is not the same as "spin" to a kid playing with a top. The kid with the top would have a hard time conceiving of a spin of ˝. Nobody can really conceive of a spin of ˝. It can only be expressed mathematically. Likewise the "colors" of quarks are merely conventions. They aren't really red, blue or green. Honest. Nor do they stand up or lie down.

Now, how does all this relate to BS? Simple. The conventions of BS are also merely metaphors or analogs for underlying principles that can only be expressed mathematically. The sheep, the spatulas, the rutabagas, the mangelwurzels, freds, are merely conventions that we use to spout BS. We use them so we can communicate ideas to each other, but what we're really talking about are basic underlying mathematical concepts.

So, just as a Grand Unifying Theory in physics can only be expressed mathematically, the Grand Unifying Theory of BS must be expressed mathematically as well. But there is one major difference between the two. In physics, a GUT must be expressed in a single equation, otherwise it's not really unifying, is it? But, since BS is infinitely more complex than particle physics, the GUT of BS must be expressed in two equations!

Here they are: 2+2=3+1 and 2+2=7.

I await your applause, lauds and congratulations with bated breath. Please post congratulatory messages to this thread. Send me a private message if you would like the address to which to send money.

Now, I'm off to figure out how to trisect an angle using only a compass and straight-edge.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 11:19 AM

Eureka! I habv fount it!

First, I must apologize to my brother Rapaire for my hastiness in belittling his GUT post. Little did I know that his post would provide the impetus for my own Eureka moment.

Now, as we all know, in the world of particle physics, terms like color, up/down, flavor and spin are merely analogs. They serve as convenient means by which to talk about properties that can only be truly expressed mathematically. "Spin" to a particle physicist is not the same as "spin" to a kid playing with a top. The kid with the top would have a hard time conceiving of a spin of ˝. Nobody can really conceive of a spin of ˝. It can only be expressed mathematically. Likewise the "colors" of quarks are merely conventions. They aren't really red, blue or green. Honest. Nor do they stand up or lie down. though I'm sure a charmed quark is, in fact, quite charming...

Now, how does all this relate to BS? Simple. The conventions of BS are also merely metaphors or analogs for underlying principles that can only be expressed mathematically. The sheep, the spatulas, the rutabagas, the mangelwurzels, freds, are merely conventions that we use to spout BS. We use them so we can communicate ideas to each other, but what we're really talking about are basic underlying mathematical concepts.

So, just as a Grand Unifying Theory in physics can only be expressed mathematically, the Grand Unifying Theory of BS must be expressed mathematically as well. But there is one major difference between the two. In physics, a GUT must be expressed in a single equation, otherwise it's not really unifying, is it? But, since BS is infinitely more complex than particle physics, the GUT of BS must be expressed in two equations!

Here they are: 2+2=3+1 and 2+2=7.

I await your applause, lauds and congratulations with bated breath. Please post congratulatory messages to this thread. Send me a private message if you would like the address to which to send money.

Now, I'm off to figure out how to trisect an angle using only a compass and straight-edge.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 11:07 AM

Rapaire, be sure to get a good J-box (find them in the hyperbolic wiring department of Home Depot or your neighborhood Ace Hardware) to stuff all of those loose ends into or you'll burn your house down.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 10:54 AM

Any politician knows that True Science demands some sacrifices, right? I am sure Bush knows this and if ever anyne's particles needed a little acceleratin' ...


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bunnahabhain
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 10:40 AM

You do realise an important product of this research?
If we finally understand BS, and its generation, we will finally have a way of understanding Congress/Parliment/appropriate national collection of troublemakers.

And if it is necesssary to put all of them through a particle accelerator, to provide experimental conformation....

Bunnahabhain


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 09:39 AM

Sorry -- I got all excited and forgot to turn off the bold.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 09:11 AM

By the thirty-eight hands of the fourteen Holy Helpers, Bee-Dubya, I was using that as an example!!!! of a GUT!!! NOT what I am doing, which will, I am certain, explain the important stuff!!! Right now, at this very moment, the Final Experiment is chugging alone, doing exactly as the GUT predicted!! Taro root, immature extremophiles, two kinds of compost, a quart of beauty quarks, n-dimensional fictons, a pint of p-n junctions, and a lot of other stuff are stewing away in a caldera out on The Site, monitored by astute physicists and chemists and biologists and other lackeys and serfs.

Ye gods, man! Did you think I was trying to explain something as simple, as elementary, as childish, as quantum mechanics???


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 03:22 AM

Easy to say, and to the True Practitioner, easy to produce. But what IS bullshit? Teresa, in her usual Zen way, has indicated the tantalizing truth, just beyond the Mind's ability to grasp or articulate.

True bullshit is spiritually postulated anti-fact, the created knowledge of the soul yearning for freedom, the nuclear rainbow of the mind battered overlong with spacetime. I submit it comes in grades of admixture with mere twists and distortions and semi-facts, which is a good thing, also.

Because no human mind can handle too much of the 100-proof straight stuff without blowing a sidewall and flipping into one-winged loony-bird antics all over the playground.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rustic Rebel
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 03:02 AM

and it's the s'rettihsllub that know, you know just what your talking about Teresa!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Teresa
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 02:50 AM

That's it, RR! Bullshit. It is the all-pervasive force that makes nonsense out of the sensible, sense out of the nonsensical. it is paired with Truth in some dangerous and tantalizing ways. Particles of these two great forces should not touch, or they will annihilate each other. I tried it once.

Ok, a few times.

Teresa


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rustic Rebel
Date: 11 Feb 05 - 02:40 AM

Bullshit


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:56 PM

What???? Oh fer Gawd'a sake, Rapaire!!!! Everybody already knows all that QED & QCD & Hawking Radiation stuff. You think we's a buncha uneducated half-wits? We wanted a

Grand Unified Theory of BS!!!!


A theory that explains the true nature of the relationships between sheep, goats, tires, root crops, curcurbits, buzzards, lawn chairs, Mississipi, accordions, porta-potties, aardvarks, armadillos, Lewis Carrol, trebuchets and a small, seemingly inconsequential island somewhere off the coast of Nebraska.

Get back to work!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:55 PM

The kids are in the other room watching Amalie. All of a sudden it doesn't seem as surreal as I thought. . .


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Teresa
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:29 PM

Amos said: "Those who assume that space is merely a viewpoint projected from a spiritual decision to know things dimensionally have a much easier time surfing the paradoxical
nodes and all that, but they are useless when pragmatic matters come up."

I think I resemble that remark. :)

Teresa


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:24 PM

As to the mental and emotional atrocities of maternal rhetoric, see this impeecable amendment by Naemanson.

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:13 PM

I love the Heinlein treatment of time, in which he figures out a tale which completely presents the paradoxes inherent in allowing time travel.

There is a really deep fundamental flip-flop in play here -- those who (understandably) derive metaphysics from the instinctual, body-derived sense of space and time are constantly wrestling with paradoxes such as the time issue, which goes all wonky the moment relativity gets turned on. Quantum dynamics don't make sense and fry your brain.

Those who assume that space is merely a viewpoint projected from a spiritual decision to know things dimensionally have a much easier time surfing the paradoxical nodes and all that, but they are useless when pragmatic matters come up.

Almost like politics.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Teresa
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 10:49 PM

Ok, rapaire, I knew it was a Unified Theory of some sort.

So that's where QED comes from (the name of the play about Feynman, which I never saw, darn) I thought it referred to that Latin phrase that was made into an acronym. But it's quantum electrodynamics.

Ok, the discussion of other dimensions in subatomic realms is interesting. It reminds me of an interesting science-fiction series I read by the late, great Charles Sheffield. The series is commonly known as _The Heritage Sereies_ and part of what goes on in it is macro quantum dynamics, as in on a grand scale, with all of the attendant bizarre chaotic and teleportation stuff.

Anyhow, I can feel Mom getting all stirred up now, so I think I'll just go off and read some more. :)

Teresa


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Teresa
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 10:25 PM

A jack off all trades?

I'm afraid to contemplate.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 10:08 PM

Oh, fer...! Scroll down to "The Theory Of Everything."


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 10:00 PM

Who do you plan to unify? Or what? Surely nothing so radical as to have he-who-we-tend-to-leave-unnamed on this thread and. . . and. . . Amos?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 09:07 PM

Pay no attention to the man with bated breath. He is a Jack off All Trades, and Master of none.


A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 08:13 PM

Well hurry up, dammit! My bated breath is quickly becoming unbated.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 08:09 PM

I will post it, in its glory, to MOAB. After all, this was the place that brought to me the first realization, the Eureka! moment, that is leading to a Grand Unified Theory.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bunnahabhain
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 07:07 PM

Goblins unify Turnips?


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Teresa
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 06:25 PM

Is it the gaia Unified theory? :) The Gutter Unified Theory?

Teresa


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 06:16 PM

I've read veiled references to your GUT but I haven't been reading many of the new threads so if you've outlined this rotund promontory somewhere else, I've missed it.

SRS


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 06:16 PM

I am awaiting the unveiling of Rapaire's GUT with bated breath. Perhaps it will explain why guitar strings sometimes break when you're loosening them. Perhaps not. Even A GUT has to leave a few questions unanswered, doesn't it? Otherwise we'd have to eliminate the "?" from our keyboards.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 04:51 PM

SRS, you just wait until I post my GUT!!! Silly? Hummph! I think you'll be surprised. Just one...last...experiment to pull it all together....


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 03:20 PM

That's a good one, Amos/Art!

Yes, Layah, we do manage "silly" much of the time. And "uproariously funny" is a logical and regular outcome. To illustrate our distinction on the Mudcat scene more completely, since music is the food of love, and laughter is the best medicine, you've come to the right place.

Read on!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 01:11 PM

and may the hairy little gods help you if you have any relatives that aren't up to snuff.


This strikes me as a side-splittingly funny oath, MM!!

And "permanent record" badgering!! I had forgotten about that -- right up there with "people are starving in India" and "cross your eyes and they will stick that way".

Art Thieme, God bless him, tells the story of the Chicago hipster who cracked a tab of speed in half, ate one half and threw the other half away.

"Hey, man!!", his buddy expostulated. "That's wasteful!!! Don't you know there are people sleeping in India???".


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,MMario
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:59 PM

Bee-dubya ;
you ever live in a small town? Heck - when you're up for a job - they not only bring up stuff you did in grade school - but stuff your Daddy did in grade school - and stuff *HIS* father did...

and may the hairy little gods help you if you have any relatives that aren't up to snuff.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Layah
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:58 PM

Had I realized back in school that nothing you do in school matters...I suppose it wouldn't really have made that much difference come to think of it. How about the most dreaded (by children) explanation ever "because I said so" I really hate that one


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Layah
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:49 PM

SRS, I ammend what I said. WHen I said BS, what I meant was silliness. And this thread in particular seems to brim with it.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:46 PM

6202


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:46 PM

To return to the cliched commentaries of parents and other childhood authority figures...

How about the times you misbehaved in school and were told that the infraction would become part of your permanent record? As if when you're forty-five and up for a big promotion the boss is going to take you aside and say something like, "John, we really like you for the job, but there's this little matter of the time you put a tack in Mary Aspinwall's chair. It's right here in your permanent record!"


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:39 PM

And just for good measure, guest heric,

The Mending Wall

SOMETHING there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:         
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,         
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.         
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
"Stay where you are until our backs are turned!"
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.         
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across         
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, "Good fences make good neighbours."
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
"Why do they make good neighbours? Isn't it         
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,         
That wants it down." I could say "Elves" to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.         
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbours."


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:35 PM

The Lady of Shallot

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road run by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly;
Down to tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance --
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,heric
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:35 PM

:) (My English professor hated that poem with a passion. "Little horse. Of course it was a little horse. Couldn't have been anything else in a Robert Frost poem.")


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:32 PM

    There are strange things done in the midnight sun
    By the men who moil for gold;
    The Arctic trails have their secret tales
    That would make your blood run cold;
    The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
    But the queerest they ever did see
    Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
    I cremated Sam McGee.


Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'taint being dead--it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows?O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared?such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked;" . . . then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm?
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

    There are strange things done in the midnight sun
    By the men who moil for gold;
    The Arctic trails have their secret tales
    That would make your blood run cold;
    The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
    But the queerest they ever did see
    Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
    I cremated Sam McGee.


Robert Service


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:29 PM

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

         -- Robert Frost


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Acme
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 12:28 PM

Layah, please step back a moment and ponder the following:

BS is NOT synonymous with "nonsense." Far from it. Shooting the BS breeze simply means our interests are far reaching and varied and that our take may be on the absurd side.

Thank you.


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Layah
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:55 AM

Thats like three posts in a row of sense. I demand more BS! And while the vegetables are invading, I demand more attention be given to artichokes!


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: GUEST,MMario
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:45 AM

I was much more likely to hear "Just because your brother did it, you think that makes it okay for YOU?"


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Layah
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:34 AM

'Just because your brother made you do, do you think it's something your brother would do?'

I think that one's purely British. For one thing I've never heard it before. For another you can't say that in American grammar. You have to say 'Just because your brother made you do it, do you think it's something your brother would do?" I wonder why you need the it after the first do, but no it after the second. And you missed "you'll put someone's eye out like that" and "If you keep making that face it will get stuck like that"


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bunnahabhain
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 11:30 AM

From Amos
It's a wonder any of us survived to think again!!

You sure we have suvived to think?

And how about the classic 'Just because your brother made you do, do you think it's something your brother would do?'


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Rapparee
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 09:52 AM

I have just one more piece of evidence to examine before I reveal my GUT. In the meantime, here's a letter a local family received from their kid in Marine Boot Camp in San Diego. Maybe Amos knows the kid?

Dear Ma and Pa,      

I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. but I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot, and shine some things.
No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing. Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there's warm water.

Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc. but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you til noon when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much.

We go on "route marches", which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different. A "route march" is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.

The country is nice but awful flat The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none.

This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.

Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6" and 130 pounds and he's 6'8" and near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.

Your loving daughter,
Gail


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Amos
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 05:28 AM

"How do you expect to amount to anything if you don't clean your plate? "

Another of those imponderable questions that only mothers can invent, the subtle and insoluble machines of mental death and oppression implanted into the innocent minds of kids everywhere.

"What would Gramma Tweedle think if she knew what you were doing?" "How can you bear to waste your vegetables, knowing how hungry the poor children in India are tonight?" and "If your classmates told you to jump off a building, would you do it?" "Would you put your elbows on the table if you were an ambassador?" I have heard all these and worse from folks desperately trying to recover their perspective and self-respect from the jaws of mad, destructive maternal rhetoric.

It's a wonder any of us survived to think again!!

A


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Teresa
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 01:54 AM

"And it's all because they didn't eat their vegetables."

It's coming back in all the guilt-ridden nightmares. Yes, the parade of spatulas, eggplants, ru ... swedes, arti ... jerusalems ... endive, parsnip, radiccio, till the horror of them overflows the carnivorous palate.

Attack of the killer tomatoes!

Teresa


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Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
From: Bee-dubya-ell
Date: 10 Feb 05 - 01:47 AM

ZUCCHINI!!!!
ZUCCHINI!!!!
ZUCCHINI!!!!
ZUCCHINI!!!!
ZUCCHINI!!!!


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