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My great uncle Josef, he liked to drink too much too. All the time drinking persimmon schnaps until he falls down in the village tavern.

So, we decided to do something about Josef's drinking. We will be scaring him we say. Scaring him with the devil his-self.

So Josef's brother in law, Franz, he makes a great devil costume out of a goat's skin, and he goes and hides behind the trees in the public Pawpaw patch which as everyone knows is on the way to the village tavern.

When Josef comes stumbling along from the tavern Franz he jumps out from tree and roars at Josef, "Josef, I am the DEVIL and you must stop your drinking!"

Josef says, "Who.... who did you say you were?"

Franz is shouting, "THE DEVIL THE DEVIL THE DEVIL"

And Josef says, "I am pleased to meet you, I am the man who married your sister."

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Claire, frequently we drink because we are lonely. Are you lonely? Maybe you are needing some of our new Ultra-Allure Pheromones... When you wear these and he is smelling them on you he is going to come right in his pants!

How does that sound, you want one pack or two?


Kresentia, You're right, I am lonely. What do you think about coming out to visit me in Chicago?


I hate that I have never been involved in a spelling/drinking bee. I'm not a good speller, but I can make up for it in drinking. Sort of like beer pong, only with words.


I hate that my Calvin books still haven't come and that I should probably go suffer at the post office again. I hate that everyone at the post office seems so nice, meaning that I can't hate them with my full hatred. I never used to be the kind of person who valued "niceness" -- what has happened to me?

I hate that yesterday I was flipping through Phenomenology of Spirit and saw that, at some point in the past, I must've read it thoroughly -- complete with underlines, brackets, stars, distressingly few question marks -- yet I remember virtually nothing. I hate that, in a fit of bravado and idiocy, I purchased a copy of the German text of said book, which I will likely never read or even consult.


I hate liberal use of the word "my" - "my PhD" when said by people who are still undergrads; "one day I'll have my trip to Europe [Jetta, Playstation, bar of soap]." Please stop lying: you can only use "my" for something that is "mine."


If you are in the same postal zone as my dad (which is quite possible) you will grow to just plain hate them. They aren't as nice as they seem.


I hate being stressed.

I don't understand why Claire should hate that there's a baked good corresponding to each of her woes; that seems, to me, like a good thing.


Somewhat related, perhaps, to Craig's complaint:

i hate it when people say, at a store or cafe counter, "Let me get a ____."


I hate hypocrites.

I hate pedantry about grammar and punctuation.

I hate that despite disliking pedantry I cannot reconcile myself with txtspeak or with people missing out apostrophes.

I hate that this makes me a hypocrite.

I hate that I still have 1500 words left of essay to write for tomorrow at 4pm.


I hate that despite the fact that it is my birthday today, I shall be up all night writing essays.

I hate that I can't get started because I keep going from page to page on the internet.

I hate Bernard Williams and his stupid essay on Plato's analogy of city and soul.


A spelling/drinking bee sounds like the best thing ever.

I hate that I'm typing that sentence instead of getting some work done.


I hate that Rachel hates Bernard Williams (though I agree with her on hating his interpretation of Plato). I would still hold a variety of stupid beliefs about ethics if I hadn't read Williams's Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy.


I hate that Claire showed up to a painting class drunk.

That being said, I wish I could have seen your instructors face.


I also hate that when Americans say "middle class" they apparently mean "working class."


I hate trolls.
I hate mean people.
I hate excuses.


Claire seems to be making fun of everyone, with her bad behavior and pleas for help.


Mortimer, Just so you know, there was a mandatory shot after each word spelled correctly at the bee. I got so drunk because I am a good speller and made it to the finals. Also, my pleas for help, though somewhat dramatic, are sincere. Now, do you have a job for me or not?


Claire, Don't worry about Mortimer. He's not even real.


Is Claire also a Slovak, if she exists?


Not if she exists -- when she exists.


So I wouldn't get to drink a single drink then huh? Unless we started with for letter words.


I am technically Perpendiculopolian.


Claire,

If you really need work, I could probably get you a job at my son's school. I do the second lunch period - you could work it with me. It's not too hard and the people are real nice. You would just have to agree never to talk to these boys again.

Just one question. You're Christian, not Slovak, right?


I'd really prefer to be a crossing guard. Don't worry, I only interact with these boys through the blog.


I hate having to do stuff that is not what I want to do. This, I think, is my philosophy of life.


Supplementary: I hate filling out "annual progression report" forms.


I hate that my first job offer in ages is coming from a dude in Kurdistan.

I hate that $2000 a month actually sounds good.


$2000 a month sounds pretty fucking great to me.


I hate that I read Benjamin's essay on Brecth and epic theatre (Illuminations), drank a bottle of wine, and watched Babel - in that order. I think connections are being made that otherwise would not be made...but I wish someone would do the same to see where I stand.


Adam is right, I am the invention of the poet Edward Williams, whose more direct, unequivocal works are available, lucky for all of you bloggers, at http://stagepoetrycompany.typepad.com/

"The Lectures of Mortimer Shy", I am sad to say, has run its course.


...illuminating


Does Babel work if you understand more than one of the languages in it?


Plain English is preferred.


Mortimer has it.


Amish, I'd expect that it works less since I think part of the force of the movie is its ability to make monolingual Americans feel far less powerful in the face of a multitude of languages (hence babel). This works narratively via Brad Pitt's character especially, but I felt it as well leaving the theatre. I literally told myself that I hated movies and never wanted to see another one with a gun again and it wasn't until the next morning when I reflected on the title Babel that I realized its sheer splendor.


The Departed's alright, but it's no After Hours.


I hate posting in the wrong thread. I don't hate The Departed, though.


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