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Recent Comments
- In The Mailbox: 02.28.23 (Afternoon Edition) : The Other McCain on Hey, longtime pw readers…
- In The Mailbox: 12.23.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll truly IS a sad, embittered psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
- In The Mailbox: 07.18.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
BECAUSE OF THE (META) IRONY!
That’s not what I meant.
Why do you privilege the tic over the tock?
Racist!
See, that’s your biggest problem Mr. goldstein. You don’t understand that time is not a ‘linear’ thing. Time is a nebulous web of existential freedom.
When do we get to a “tic” under erasure?
Ah, so your “reader” chooses to run back to his silly little cave of denial, pretending all is well in this mad, meaningless patriarchal world, if I can posit for a moment the existence of such a ‘thing’!
Hmmmm, so what do ‘tics’ have to do with cock exactly?
There was that one time in the woods, but I got my shots. Then there was Tijuana…
(Eagerly awaits the clock’s moment as the “ ‘ “ironically” ‘ “* Disney-owned David Foster Wallace.)
* [Diatribe wrt “smart” quotes, and how they’re not so, as see above; denial of hipster primitivism and leisure-class ostentation in time-wasting as twin origins of typewriter-style dumb-quote defense, which denial is delivered wholly in the language of the leisure-class faux-hipster, but ironically, for which read sincerely, as again see nested quotes at issue; cack-handed denial that this is in any way a diatribe, denial, defense, &c., in which (latter) denial Barthes and Barth are both quoted authoritatively and (both) disowned as since superseded by David Letterman; and so but also w/ obligatory self-hating, heritage-denying reference to monobrowed, troglodytic Midwestern trailer park couples and their tadpole-eyed, paint-chip-fed babies, also re which see Harmony Korine passim, of whom a moral denunciation appears at pp. 112-987 of this book you have in your hands, or on your lap, or wherever, you have it right here, hello.]
BoZ – I am not sure whether I should be very impressed with your last comment… or frightened silly.
……….uh…… I don’t get it??!!
TW: I sat down and thought about it.
That is me…cowering under the bed…dreading….everything
What if the clock gets a tic and can’t tic? Sort of like having a bashful kidney when you need to do a urine test.
This blog needs a serious dose of Sevin dust. Anybody got any DDT left over from the old days?
TW: seven – I’ll suck an eight inch uncut cock of porn if I’m lying.
This must be that vaunted, razor sharp, Goldsteinian wit I keep hearing about. Hoo, that’s some, uh, edgy, rollicking laffs; yeah, that’s what it is. More like this please {looking around for the exit.}
[Let me help you; I don’t much care for your commentary either, but for the most part, I’ve kept quiet about it. But if all you were doing was looking for a trail of breadcrumbs to find your way off the site, I can oblige – ed]
Er, “tic-tac”…?
Translation: “Everybody gets the joke but me, so there must be something wrong with … everybody.”
Yeah, but if the “clock” reads its “tic” as a “tic”, couldn’t I just as easily read it as a “tock”? And couldn’t the clock, as well, if it felt like it? For all we know, the “clock” could actually be making the sound “moo” or some such, but because of our “conditioning” in “bourgeois western society” we are “trained” to read the “clock’s” “mechanical sound” as “tic”?
See, that’s why I gave up on pomo theory (except to twist the words of pomo authors when they were speaking literally): Too many quote marks.
I think you should be more sensitive to people with lyme disease. What, are you saying their symptoms aren’t real?
Well, there goes my theory that it wasn’t really even self-aware. I guess if stupidity is all you have you may as well be proud of it. It just sucks that they are too fucking stupid to insult, I fear the left is creating the perfect troll.
I find it a chilling work—an infinite dark chasm appears as a narrow slit at one’s feet, to be crossed in a split-second with only faith keeping one from falling.
Nope, not a trace of self-awareness here.
Fine. We’ll skip the “ludicrous attempts to ban” and go right to the the “delete everything you manage to get through” route.
And trust me, it’s not the criticism that bothers me. It’s the dishonesty of the criticism, and the self-importance of the critic.
But go ahead, vent your thoughts. Spend as much time as you want crafting your barbs.
And I’ll delete them without even bothering to read them.
So yr new best friend inadvertantly wrote a post best describing yr style of lit crit. None of this effete faux pomo shit for you twits. Now you can talk about “intentionalism” and yr cock at the same time.
When I was growing up in rural Appalachia, one of the more fascinating creatures to me was the professional idiot. The guy who couldn’t wait to get drunk and proudly show the scars of his latest ass whipping, tell the tales of the last car he totalled, brag about being fired from work, etc. I would sit in awe that they could take such pride in utter failure. I also vowed to get the fuck out of the mountains, as I believed this to be a local phenomenom. I think that is why this parade of SadlyNo morons gets to me like it does, it reminds me that I can’t escape these shitheads anywhere.
Sorry it’s too subtle for you. They run Three Stooges on cable.
Tockists!
What about what I think they’re saying? Don’t my intentions and interpretations count?
I still think it was quoted out of context.
“Mr. Intention Man,”
Come again? I can’t parse your compliment/insult up there. You’ve stumped me. So, yeah, “Thanks!” Or, possibly, “Cut it out!”