Merrick: “I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!”
Me: “Well, given that such classifications are constructs decided upon by social consensus and transitory cultural norms — not the kinds of fixed categorical universals so conveniently prescribed by patriarchal Enlightenment fetishists bent on defining and controlling thought by way of appealing to an ’empiricism’ whose data is troubled by Heisenberg’s principles of observation, and whose position toward its subject is inscribed by prevailing dialogical attitudes and power dynamics — you are pretty much whatever the ascendant interpretive paradigm says you are.”*
Merrick: “– I AM A HUMAN BEING!”
Me:: “So you say. But the truth is, today you’re a sailboat — and not a very attractive one, either. Unless, that is, you agree to go fetch me a turkey club and some Sun Chips. And weed the back lawn. At which point, I might be convinced to revisit your ontological status.
“Now scat! That gaping hole in your bow is sloshing spittle all over the rug again.”
I revisited my ontological status once. She said I needed to spend more time with my uncological status, but, because he was hard of hearing and short-sighted, he often mistook me for a rutabega he had planted in 1947, and he kept trying to transplant me to the urn that contained his mother’s ashes (she was a large woman). That was the last revisit.
Put Merrick in a box. Then you can say that he’s both an animal and a man as long as you don’t open it.
Sorry, goofed the link:
Put Merrick in a box. Then you can say that he’s both an animal and a man as long as you don’t open it.
This should be like catnip for Ted Whileman I’m thinking. Me? I like Sun Chips, but sometimes they seem kind of gritty. But not as gritty as Bugles, which I really don’t get at all.
Luis would call Bugles “classic jingoists.”
I think that’s a bit presumptuous, but then, I don’t live in Luis’ head.
Which is cool, because the conservatives in their are always getting hit in the face with frying pans by clever mice.
“the ascendant interpretive paradigm says you are.â€Â
So would this go a long way to explain Maha’s insistence that she’s not my or anyone else’s monkey?
Was Luis for serious when he said he was going to publish his findings? That’s so… I dunno. It reminds me of that quote Glenn had today that I thought was kind of stilted and icky from William Gibson, who I used to really like.
That’s about as profound as Bugles I think, and not near as gritty.
Bugles? How dare you bag on the refreshing onion flavored snack treats. Blasphemy, says I.
Evidence based reason ??? Puleese , it’s easier to just blame the weather .
Right – they taste like something oniony fell into a breakfast cereal. They’re just not very American. It’s the sort of snack you might get if some guy in Bangalore was trying to pirate Fritos.
Because, when you think snacks, onions is the first thing that pops into your head. Chocolate? Feh. Cookies? Meh. Cheese? Bleh. Onions are the pure embodiment of snacks. lol
They’ve been trying to sell these upstairs. So far she says I’m the only one to buy any – I just got a couple a while back for a friend who likes anime. Now that I’m at the website, turns out they’re not Japanese at all. Singapore.
The “guy” definitely needs some new dialog. Threaten to have her scraped for barnacles unless she shapes up.
SB: curious familia
1. JG is en fuego today.
2. ducktrapper asks:
Nah, just an indicator of her nuance.
tw: Status of palms. Hairy!
BTW, when Lefties say they aren’t my monkey, I suppose they don’t realize that they are suggesting they have something to hide.
Merrick:
Merrick: AVAST, MS. KIMBALL!
Merrick: OKAY, SO DO I PASS, OR WHAT? A “B” MAYBE?
yours/
peter.
– I’ve come to susspect that Merrick is actually a digitized Cockatiel Robot, in the form of a slender leaky three masted clipper. One which has been programed to say a few humanistic phrases, while his nefarious operator spies on Goldfarbs snacking habits, and keeps notes on the steady increase in the heft of his aft quarterdeck.
– But thats just a guess.
TW: ascendent work’s ….yes capcha duffus….I just said that…..
I don’t get it. Don’t they have Fritos in Maine?
tw: presence 1917… That’s what I thought too..
“I AM NOT A SLOOP! I AM A BRIGANTINE!”
SB: year exhausting
poor little fella
Hmmm, I’ve always liked that song. After all, it just feels soooo good to stop hiding yer monkey. Set the little feller free, I say!