Spagbook

[Freeky]

Yeah, we're gonna have to have a talk about that.

I can bring you snow if you wish, my good man.

Now see, I wouldn't mind a bit of snow.  But Roger, he knows how the system works, how to cut through all the red tape, and he'd have all the paperwork on my desk by the next business day requesting a firestorm over on Nordica or wherever it is, with the supplemental forms filled out (in triplicate) that this is an emergency situation and I have no time to review the case.  Just so you know, Catastrophic Fire God to Snow God, letting it snow here is probably a bad idea.

[EK WAFFLR]

Yeah, we're gonna have to have a talk about that.

I can bring you snow if you wish, my good man.

Now see, I wouldn't mind a bit of snow.  But Roger, he knows how the system works, how to cut through all the red tape, and he'd have all the paperwork on my desk by the next business day requesting a firestorm over on Nordica or wherever it is, with the supplemental forms filled out (in triplicate) that this is an emergency situation and I have no time to review the case.  Just so you know, Catastrophic Fire God to Snow God, letting it snow here is probably a bad idea.

Ah, shit. I'm a Vogon Snow God. It takes time, except when I cheat to have snow at home.

[Suu]

Yeah, we're gonna have to have a talk about that.

I can bring you snow if you wish, my good man.

Now see, I wouldn't mind a bit of snow.  But Roger, he knows how the system works, how to cut through all the red tape, and he'd have all the paperwork on my desk by the next business day requesting a firestorm over on Nordica or wherever it is, with the supplemental forms filled out (in triplicate) that this is an emergency situation and I have no time to review the case.  Just so you know, Catastrophic Fire God to Snow God, letting it snow here is probably a bad idea.

Ah, shit. I'm a Vogon Snow God. It takes time, except when I cheat to have snow at home.

Does it involve poetry?

[EK WAFFLR]

Does it involve poetry?

The complete works of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings

[Freeky]

Yeah, we're gonna have to have a talk about that.

I can bring you snow if you wish, my good man.

Now see, I wouldn't mind a bit of snow.  But Roger, he knows how the system works, how to cut through all the red tape, and he'd have all the paperwork on my desk by the next business day requesting a firestorm over on Nordica or wherever it is, with the supplemental forms filled out (in triplicate) that this is an emergency situation and I have no time to review the case.  Just so you know, Catastrophic Fire God to Snow God, letting it snow here is probably a bad idea.

Ah, shit. I'm a Vogon Snow God. It takes time, except when I cheat to have snow at home.

I'm not a Vogon, I'm just a bureaucrat. 

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Does it involve poetry?

The complete works of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings

The actual poem referenced, by Paul Neil Milne Johnstone:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay.
They rotted.
They turned around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

[EK WAFFLR]

Does it involve poetry?

The complete works of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings

The actual poem referenced, by Paul Neil Milne Johnstone:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay.
They rotted.
They turned around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

But, that's BRILLIANT

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Does it involve poetry?

The complete works of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings

The actual poem referenced, by Paul Neil Milne Johnstone:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay.
They rotted.
They turned around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

But, that's BRILLIANT

It is indeed one of the most perfectly awful poems I've ever seen. Subject matter aside, it has no discernible rhythm and an utter disregard for meter, or flow, or even grammar. It concludes abruptly without any kind of point, and the imagery is almost completely lacking. It violates every known rule of poetry and aesthetics, making it pretty much a completely perfect bad poem.

[Cainad (dec.)]

That poem put a big dumb grin on my big dumb face.

[Reeducation]

I think I finally got this. Let's see.


So this is me at my backyard having a smoke. I'm REALLY enjoying it.




I am.



And this is me and the biggest chanterelle I have ever found.



I ate it.



And then this happened.





These are quite "old" pictures. I am much better looking these days. Some day I will prove it.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Saved for future womping

[East Coast Hustle]

Does it involve poetry?

The complete works of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings

The actual poem referenced, by Paul Neil Milne Johnstone:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay.
They rotted.
They turned around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

Well, that's certainly the best poem I'VE ever read.

[Suu]

Better poetry than I can write.

[Chairman Risus]

Does it involve poetry?

The complete works of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings

The actual poem referenced, by Paul Neil Milne Johnstone:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay.
They rotted.
They turned around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

Well, that's certainly the best poem I'VE ever read.

Reminds me a little of this one I found.

Every time I fart, of late,
I feel the excretory juices of my feces,
Squishing and squashing between my butt cheeks,
However I have no desire to wipe my ass, anymore.
A metaphor?

A Metaphor? by Serj Tankian

[Freeky]

Does it involve poetry?

The complete works of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings

The actual poem referenced, by Paul Neil Milne Johnstone:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.
They lay.
They rotted.
They turned around occasionally.
Bits of flesh dropped off them from Time to time.
And sank into the pool's mire.
They also smelt a great deal.

Well, that's certainly the best poem I'VE ever read.

Reminds me a little of this one I found.

Every time I fart, of late,
I feel the excretory juices of my feces,
Squishing and squashing between my butt cheeks,
However I have no desire to wipe my ass, anymore.
A metaphor?

A Metaphor? by Serj Tankian

If that isn't misattributed, this just makes me love Serj Tankian even more. :vomilulz: