Comments on: Hypocritical pigs dissected http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/ Just another WordPress weblog Mon, 09 Nov 2009 12:39:15 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=1.5.1-alpha by: Kasper Hauser http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-513632 Mon, 05 May 2008 22:19:05 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-513632 I am pretty sure that what Carl Gordon is trying to say in the above comment is that he has never ever been laid, not even once, and he's just about given up hope. I am pretty sure that what Carl Gordon is trying to say in the above comment is that he has never ever been laid, not even once, and he’s just about given up hope.

]]> by: Druidlaw http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-510993 Fri, 25 Apr 2008 05:55:47 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-510993 I sent the above off to my Jungian analyst godson and after not hearing from him I called about it. (Flash Gordon above ). He hung up on me, so I need someone to translate it into vituperative English rather than Inuit introspeak. What is it about bullshit that you don't understand, Carl? You should really be reading Mein Kampf rather than Ayn Rand. And of course, buying it instead of checking it out of your local library. You DO have a local library, don't you? Maybe you can visit its religion section and sit in the stacks and read the book that talks about casting the first stone. It's not in the geology section. I sent the above off to my Jungian analyst godson and after not
hearing from him I called about it. (Flash Gordon above ). He hung
up on me, so I need someone to translate it into vituperative English rather than Inuit introspeak. What is it about bullshit that you don’t understand, Carl? You should really be reading Mein Kampf rather than Ayn Rand. And of course, buying it instead of checking it out of your local library. You DO have a local library, don’t you? Maybe you can visit its religion section and sit in the stacks and read the book that talks about casting the first stone. It’s not in the geology section.

]]> by: Carl Gordon http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-510156 Mon, 21 Apr 2008 14:57:12 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-510156 What a metaphor for our own tangled existence, as Goldberg struggles and stumbles through this faint wacky veil of tears, always maintaining the fantasy of some dim image of what he once was, perhaps longing for the virginal innocence of his youth, such as it was, or the propped up illusions of grandeur his well meaning or delusional parents/teachers/pinhead friends foisted upon him, minus the rubber nose and funny big shoes. As the famous Doo-Wop song says, “You better think it over”. But just like every architect knows, whenever empty space is remodeled, shuffled, or even de-constructed, an image of what once was remains. The tarred roof of his leaking soul, bashed and nailed by the under-paid over-worked alienated “workers” of his fate and bad fortune, the scintilla of what affirmative self image managed to linger from a shattered and harrowing childhood is demolished like so much structural debris (don’t pick it up!) and decidedly “bent” nails, and don’t forget that once each separate fortification of his original persona has been removed through malevolence or ineptitude, there’s a blemish left in it’s place that could disturb and bamboozle unto perpetuity. His spirit was broken like the old Westinghouse four burner that gave up the ghost and died with a murmur not a bang, so the building custodian had it removed and dust lines of his sorrow remains from that neglected relocated appliance. The ancient ruins of his uniqueness and wholly realized pure self speak volumes of his former oneness. And Babs Streisand still warbles on the radio in the corner of how some fucking people are the luckiest people in the world. Last time I saw a mug like that it had a hook in it! Some people refer to Bab’s singing as an aural glimpse of the choir angelic. It’s my nightmare, even with the rubber nose. Nice rack though. Maybe what’s needed in times like these are extended episodes of acute anti-retrograde amnesia without obvious loss of consciousness, brought on by the ingestion of alcohol or some other solvent based antagonist, combined with approximately 100 cc’s of tincture of extract of young adult Pineal gland, or joining a local band of “leaf people”.. Could Amsterdam be the next stop on this meandering Nova Express? What a metaphor for our own tangled existence, as Goldberg struggles and stumbles through this faint wacky veil of tears, always maintaining the fantasy of some dim image of what he once was, perhaps longing for the virginal innocence of his youth, such as it was, or the propped up illusions of grandeur his well meaning or delusional parents/teachers/pinhead friends foisted upon him, minus the rubber nose and funny big shoes. As the famous Doo-Wop song says, “You better think it over”. But just like every architect knows, whenever empty space is remodeled, shuffled, or even de-constructed, an image of what once was remains. The tarred roof of his leaking soul, bashed and nailed by the under-paid over-worked alienated “workers” of his fate and bad fortune, the scintilla of what affirmative self image managed to linger from a shattered and harrowing childhood is demolished like so much structural debris (don’t pick it up!) and decidedly “bent” nails, and don’t forget that once each separate fortification of his original persona has been removed through malevolence or ineptitude, there’s a blemish left in it’s place that could disturb and bamboozle unto perpetuity. His spirit was broken like the old Westinghouse four burner that gave up the ghost and died with a murmur not a bang, so the building custodian had it removed and dust lines of his sorrow remains from that neglected relocated appliance. The ancient ruins of his uniqueness and wholly realized pure self speak volumes of his former oneness. And Babs Streisand still warbles on the radio in the corner of how some fucking people are the luckiest people in the world. Last time I saw a mug like that it had a hook in it! Some people refer to Bab’s singing as an aural glimpse of the choir angelic. It’s my nightmare, even with the rubber nose. Nice rack though.
Maybe what’s needed in times like these are extended episodes of acute anti-retrograde amnesia without obvious loss of consciousness, brought on by the ingestion of alcohol or some other solvent based antagonist, combined with approximately 100 cc’s of tincture of extract of young adult Pineal gland, or joining a local band of “leaf people”.. Could Amsterdam be the next stop on this meandering Nova Express?

]]> by: Carl Gordon http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-510155 Mon, 21 Apr 2008 14:56:23 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-510155 What a metaphor for our own tangled existence, as Goldberg struggles and stumbles through this faint wacky veil of tears, always maintaining the fantasy of some dim image of what he once was, perhaps longing for the virginal innocence of his youth, such as it was, or the propped up illusions of grandeur his well meaning or delusional parents/teachers/pinhead friends foisted upon him, minus the rubber nose and funny big shoes. As the famous Doo-Wop song says, “You better think it over”. But just like every architect knows, whenever empty space is remodeled, shuffled, or even de-constructed, an image of what once was remains. The tarred roof of his leaking soul, bashed and nailed by the under-paid over-worked alienated “workers” of his fate and bad fortune, the scintilla of what affirmative self image managed to linger from a shattered and harrowing childhood is demolished like so much structural debris (don’t pick it up!) and decidedly “bent” nails, and don’t forget that once each separate fortification of his original persona has been removed through malevolence or ineptitude, there’s a blemish left in it’s place that could disturb and bamboozle unto perpetuity. His spirit was broken like the old Westinghouse four burner that gave up the ghost and died with a murmur not a bang, so the building custodian had it removed and dust lines of his sorrow remains from that neglected relocated appliance. The ancient ruins of his uniqueness and wholly realized pure self speak volumes of his former oneness. And Babs Streisand still warbles on the radio in the corner of how some fucking people are the luckiest people in the world. Last time I saw a mug like that it had a hook in it! Some people refer to Bab’s singing as an aural glimpse of the choir angelic. It’s my nightmare, even with the rubber nose. Nice rack though. Maybe what’s needed in times like these are extended episodes of acute anti-retrograde amnesia without obvious loss of consciousness, brought on by the ingestion of alcohol or some other solvent based antagonist, combined with approximately 100 cc’s of tincture of extract of young adult Pineal gland, or joining a local band of “leaf people”.. Could Amsterdam be the next stop on this meandering Nova Express? What a metaphor for our own tangled existence, as Goldberg struggles and stumbles through this faint wacky veil of tears, always maintaining the fantasy of some dim image of what he once was, perhaps longing for the virginal innocence of his youth, such as it was, or the propped up illusions of grandeur his well meaning or delusional parents/teachers/pinhead friends foisted upon him, minus the rubber nose and funny big shoes. As the famous Doo-Wop song says, “You better think it over”. But just like every architect knows, whenever empty space is remodeled, shuffled, or even de-constructed, an image of what once was remains. The tarred roof of his leaking soul, bashed and nailed by the under-paid over-worked alienated “workers” of his fate and bad fortune, the scintilla of what affirmative self image managed to linger from a shattered and harrowing childhood is demolished like so much structural debris (don’t pick it up!) and decidedly “bent” nails, and don’t forget that once each separate fortification of his original persona has been removed through malevolence or ineptitude, there’s a blemish left in it’s place that could disturb and bamboozle unto perpetuity. His spirit was broken like the old Westinghouse four burner that gave up the ghost and died with a murmur not a bang, so the building custodian had it removed and dust lines of his sorrow remains from that neglected relocated appliance. The ancient ruins of his uniqueness and wholly realized pure self speak volumes of his former oneness. And Babs Streisand still warbles on the radio in the corner of how some fucking people are the luckiest people in the world. Last time I saw a mug like that it had a hook in it! Some people refer to Bab’s singing as an aural glimpse of the choir angelic. It’s my nightmare, even with the rubber nose. Nice rack though.
Maybe what’s needed in times like these are extended episodes of acute anti-retrograde amnesia without obvious loss of consciousness, brought on by the ingestion of alcohol or some other solvent based antagonist, combined with approximately 100 cc’s of tincture of extract of young adult Pineal gland, or joining a local band of “leaf people”.. Could Amsterdam be the next stop on this meandering Nova Express?

]]> by: PopeRatzo http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-510124 Mon, 21 Apr 2008 13:01:46 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-510124 A fine review of a GREAT book! Thanks. A fine review of a GREAT book!
Thanks.

]]> by: MoeLarryAndJesus http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508861 Tue, 15 Apr 2008 21:02:08 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508861 I think it should be pointed out loudly and often that if a prospective Democratic First Lady had Cindy McCain's history that the "family values" crowd would be screaming about how we just can't have a HOMEWRECKING WHORE taking the "position" once held by the living saint Nancy Reagan. I think it should be pointed out loudly and often that if a prospective Democratic First Lady had Cindy McCain’s history that the “family values” crowd would be screaming about how we just can’t have a HOMEWRECKING WHORE taking the “position” once held by the living saint Nancy Reagan.

]]> by: Great White North Liberal http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508740 Tue, 15 Apr 2008 12:06:40 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508740 I am frequently dismayed at the number of times rightwingers publish their latest nonsense without even performing a modicum of research on the topic they are bloviating on. Michael Medved's rubbish of a few weeks ago, about how the Republic of Canada should be grateful that we haven't been invaded by the U.S. We're not a Republic, you nitwit; however it's true we haven't been invaded - since 1812! Gosh, thanks! Anyway, your attention is drawn to Matt Barber's trash in today's Clownhall. http://www.townhall.com/columnists/MattBarber/2008/04/14/darwins_kool-aid?page=1 In paragraph 3 he sullies his pen this way: "In his trademark deadpan fashion, Stein skillfully debunks the dogmatic neo-Darwinist programming we've all had relentlessly rammed down our throats ever since “Big Science” went bananas over that cute little Scopes Monkey." Is it possible this tool actually believes there's such a thing as a Scopes Monkey? I defy you to read the paragraph any other way. The mind boggles. Final thought: next time you happen to be going point-counterpoint with a winger on the topic of evolution, and he starts harping about Darwin, ask him if he's ever read Darwin...even a few pages. Here's betting the silence will be deafening. I am frequently dismayed at the number of times rightwingers publish their latest nonsense without even performing a modicum of research on the topic they are bloviating on. Michael Medved’s rubbish of a few weeks ago, about how the Republic of Canada should be grateful that we haven’t been invaded by the U.S. We’re not a Republic, you nitwit; however it’s true we haven’t been invaded - since 1812! Gosh, thanks!

Anyway, your attention is drawn to Matt Barber’s trash in today’s Clownhall. http://www.townhall.com/columnists/MattBarber/2008/04/14/darwins_kool-aid?page=1

In paragraph 3 he sullies his pen this way: “In his trademark deadpan fashion, Stein skillfully debunks the dogmatic neo-Darwinist programming we’ve all had relentlessly rammed down our throats ever since “Big Science” went bananas over that cute little Scopes Monkey.” Is it possible this tool actually believes there’s such a thing as a Scopes Monkey? I defy you to read the paragraph any other way. The mind boggles.

Final thought: next time you happen to be going point-counterpoint with a winger on the topic of evolution, and he starts harping about Darwin, ask him if he’s ever read Darwin…even a few pages. Here’s betting the silence will be deafening.

]]> by: Guav http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508704 Tue, 15 Apr 2008 10:20:47 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508704 Uhm, "gunhumpers"? Uhm, “gunhumpers”?

]]> by: MikeEss http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508654 Tue, 15 Apr 2008 07:27:28 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508654 Another three votes for <i>The Quiet Man</i>. My wife, my daughter, and me all love the goofy Irishness, the fiery Maureen O'Hara, and Wayne being all quiet manhood. Fun movie - as long as you help your daughter understand the cliches and make sure she understands that world exists in a movie and not in (her) real life... Another three votes for The Quiet Man. My wife, my daughter, and me all love the goofy Irishness, the fiery Maureen O’Hara, and Wayne being all quiet manhood.

Fun movie - as long as you help your daughter understand the cliches and make sure she understands that world exists in a movie and not in (her) real life…

]]> by: hbsweet, empress of ice cream http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508618 Mon, 14 Apr 2008 22:48:47 +0100 http://pandagon.blogsome.com/2008/04/14/7042/#comment-508618 Hamletta: I see your "Red River," and raise you "Rio Bravo" and "The Quiet Man." Man should've stuck with his day job. Hamletta:
I see your “Red River,” and raise you “Rio Bravo” and “The Quiet Man.”
Man should’ve stuck with his day job.

]]>