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GM's Thread About Everything/GM's Thread About Nothing (10 Viewers)

kevzilla said:
Are we doing outrage now? I mean, I'm glad an American dude won a silver medal in synchronized diving, really I am. But you cannot go walking around in public, in a Speedo, with the name Steele Johnson. You just can't.
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Oh, yes . Yes you can. Oh hell yes 

 
St. Louis Bob said:
Yesterday was my day or rest however and I felt really bad.  So I watched a couple of movies with the boys.  Major League was one of them which has never been one of my favorites but I figured they would and did.  Plus I like to watch movies their mother would never approve of and don't care about cussing and a little nudity.  Never violence though.

This morning the three of us we walking when Dyl says "dad, remember when they had the poster of the girl and they kept removing a sticker for every game them one?  How come they didn't remove the last one?" Cal says "Dylan, she was wearing leopard skin undies".  Dyl "but why didn't they take them off?!"

:bag:
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A few of my friends, a guy I grew up with, and an old Little League coach were all in that movie. A couple Yankees an Indian and the Yankee manager.

 
The long hard discussions have been had, and I've scheduled surgery on August 24th.  I would never have known to even get checked if a relative hadn't casually mentioned around the end of the year last year "Oh, I have this hereditary thing that killed your grandfather and almost killed your father.  Haha, bet you were glad when you didn't have it."

No one had ever mentioned it to me.  Turns out it tried to kill me, too, same way it tried to get my father. Old goat was treated for the same type of aneurysm I have for over two decades and didn't need surgery. Or to mention it to his son, apparently.

I'm having a final night of light drinking before the push toward surgery and I'm reading 20th century poetry.  I'm allowed as long as I take a few blood thinners and drink plenty of water. The booze, not sure I'm allowed poetry.  Forgive me, I'm an old school introspective drinker sometimes.  In vino veritas, in whiskey weight. 

I likely won't be around very much for awhile as I gear up to the 24th, perhaps the occasional bad joke about cows and politics and a bit of Olympic discussion. Assuming all will go well, but in any event, thanks GMTAN.  May your headstones hold the words of Rudyard Kipling, and deserve them. I have never known a more horrifying group of degenerates for whom I'd be proud to go to prison for helping hide a body.  May we all fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds' worth of distance run.

If I die, all of my likes go to k4 for her birthday.

See you all on the 25th.  

 
I will drink more to pick up the slack in your honor, pig heart guy.

Godspeed and good luck.

 
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Henry Ford said:
The long hard discussions have been had, and I've scheduled surgery on August 24th.  I would never have known to even get checked if a relative hadn't casually mentioned around the end of the year last year "Oh, I have this hereditary thing that killed your grandfather and almost killed your father.  Haha, bet you were glad when you didn't have it."

No one had ever mentioned it to me.  Turns out it tried to kill me, too, same way it tried to get my father. Old goat was treated for the same type of aneurysm I have for over two decades and didn't need surgery. Or to mention it to his son, apparently.

I'm having a final night of light drinking before the push toward surgery and I'm reading 20th century poetry.  I'm allowed as long as I take a few blood thinners and drink plenty of water. The booze, not sure I'm allowed poetry.  Forgive me, I'm an old school introspective drinker sometimes.  In vino veritas, in whiskey weight. 

I likely won't be around very much for awhile as I gear up to the 24th, perhaps the occasional bad joke about cows and politics and a bit of Olympic discussion. Assuming all will go well, but in any event, thanks GMTAN.  May your headstones hold the words of Rudyard Kipling, and deserve them. I have never known a more horrifying group of degenerates for whom I'd be proud to go to prison for helping hide a body.  May we all fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds' worth of distance run.

If I die, all of my likes go to k4 for her birthday.

See you all on the 25th.  
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What 20th century poetry so I can judge.

oh and don't die pls

 
Henry Ford said:
The long hard discussions have been had, and I've scheduled surgery on August 24th.  I would never have known to even get checked if a relative hadn't casually mentioned around the end of the year last year "Oh, I have this hereditary thing that killed your grandfather and almost killed your father.  Haha, bet you were glad when you didn't have it."

No one had ever mentioned it to me.  Turns out it tried to kill me, too, same way it tried to get my father. Old goat was treated for the same type of aneurysm I have for over two decades and didn't need surgery. Or to mention it to his son, apparently.

I'm having a final night of light drinking before the push toward surgery and I'm reading 20th century poetry.  I'm allowed as long as I take a few blood thinners and drink plenty of water. The booze, not sure I'm allowed poetry.  Forgive me, I'm an old school introspective drinker sometimes.  In vino veritas, in whiskey weight. 

I likely won't be around very much for awhile as I gear up to the 24th, perhaps the occasional bad joke about cows and politics and a bit of Olympic discussion. Assuming all will go well, but in any event, thanks GMTAN.  May your headstones hold the words of Rudyard Kipling, and deserve them. I have never known a more horrifying group of degenerates for whom I'd be proud to go to prison for helping hide a body.  May we all fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds' worth of distance run.

If I die, all of my likes go to k4 for her birthday.

See you all on the 25th.  
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:wub:   Wouldn't have expected anything less poetic than this from you.  Can't wait to "see" you on the 25th.

 
krista4 said:
Fire up a 20th century poetry rating thread.
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To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme and figures of speech, then ask two questions: 1) How artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered and 2) How important is that objective? Question 1 rates the poem's perfection; question 2 rates its importance. And once these questions have been answered, determining the poem's greatness becomes a relatively simple matter.

If the poem's score for perfection is plotted on the horizontal of a graph and its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness.

A sonnet by Byron might score high on the vertical but only average on the horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically, yielding a massive total area, thereby revealing the poem to be truly great. As you proceed through the poetry in this book,

 
Sconch said:
To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme and figures of speech, then ask two questions: 1) How artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered and 2) How important is that objective? Question 1 rates the poem's perfection; question 2 rates its importance. And once these questions have been answered, determining the poem's greatness becomes a relatively simple matter.

If the poem's score for perfection is plotted on the horizontal of a graph and its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness.

A sonnet by Byron might score high on the vertical but only average on the horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically, yielding a massive total area, thereby revealing the poem to be truly great. As you proceed through the poetry in this book,
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Booooooooooo, my Captain.

 
Sconch said:
What 20th century poetry so I can judge.

oh and don't die pls
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I find it sad that you didn't even read past the third paragraph of my deathbed speech.  You're out of the will.*

*Or that you don't know who Rudyard Kipling is or recognize "If".  Failing to read "If" is like refusing to listen to John Cougar Mellencamp and setting every copy of Field of Dreams on fire before watching it and then telling everyone that whiskey is just "too harsh" to drink.

But thanks, I'll attempt to live.

 
Henry Ford said:
I find it sad that you didn't even read past the third paragraph of my deathbed speech.  You're out of the will.*

*Or that you don't know who Rudyard Kipling is or recognize "If".  Failing to read "If" is like refusing to listen to John Cougar Mellencamp and setting every copy of Field of Dreams on fire before watching it and then telling everyone that whiskey is just "too harsh" to drink.

But thanks, I'll attempt to live.
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Kipling did that "grapes of Kong" thing, right?

 
krista4 said:
Whew.  I'm back to hoping you don't die now.

Please add William Carlos Williams, and I'll be happy.  I don't need the other two.
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Jesus Christ, fine, Williams, but then Eliot has to go on for Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, and we might as well put Ginsberg, and Sandburg, and the book of poetry I wrote in the tenth grade on there, and then it just never ends.

Christ, I take it all back.  May your headstones carry the words of Sarah Palin, and my likes are coming with me to the grave.

 
Henry Ford said:
Jesus Christ, fine, Williams, but then Eliot has to go on for Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, and we might as well put Ginsberg, and Sandburg, and the book of poetry I wrote in the tenth grade on there, and then it just never ends.

Christ, I take it all back.  May your headstones carry the words of Sarah Palin, and my likes are coming with me to the grave.
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:cry:  

 
On the heels of that monumental poetry burn, I renew my feelings of love and adoration for all of you.  And take back my statements about Sarah Palin and keeping my likes.  

K4 knows I'm kidding about everything except hating her favorite poets.

 
Henry Ford said:
On the heels of that monumental poetry burn, I renew my feelings of love and adoration for all of you.  And take back my statements about Sarah Palin and keeping my likes.  

K4 knows I'm kidding about everything except hating her favorite poets.
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I don't even need the likes.  Just need the love.  

As I type this I can see my copy of Neruda's entire works, so as long as we have that, I can survive.

 
proninja said:
FIL's cancer has metastasized into the bone. Inoperable. Consolation prize is that it's apparently the slowest growing kind. He's got 5 years if he's in the 50th percentile. 

Go #### yourself, cancer. 
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####. Sorry for you and your family.

 
krista4 said:
I don't even need the likes.  Just need the love.  

As I type this I can see my copy of Neruda's entire works, so as long as we have that, I can survive.
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I have a book of poetry from high school in my book shelf.  It's what I've been reading today.  Obviously it is woefully out of date in discussing even 20th century poetry, but its pages are like the bible and its words comfort me much more than religion.  The sad and triumphant, the broken and mended, and the saved and the damned combine in a furious anger and defiance at the universe tinged with regret and gratitude, love and loss, and a hint of joy.  The words of alcoholics, and addicts, and lovers, and the lost melding into a vaguely drunken anthem of realistic hope about the world and all of our places in it, even in the face of tragedy and despair.

Mostly it helps because there isn't any Willam Carlos Williams in it.

 
Henry Ford said:
I have a book of poetry from high school in my book shelf.  It's what I've been reading today.  Obviously it is woefully out of date in discussing even 20th century poetry, but its pages are like the bible and its words comfort me much more than religion.  The sad and triumphant, the broken and mended, and the saved and the damned combine in a furious anger and defiance at the universe tinged with regret and gratitude, love and loss, and a hint of joy.  The words of alcoholics, and addicts, and lovers, and the lost melding into a vaguely drunken anthem of realistic hope about the world and all of our places in it, even in the face of tragedy and despair.

Mostly it helps because there isn't any Willam Carlos Williams in it.
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:lmao:   *******.

 
Reminds me of Mark Twain,  who said something like the best thing about an empty library is that it is off to a good start because it doesn't have any Jane Austen. 

 
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