2012: Rise of the Breeders
January 21, 2012 by at 10:07 am
A nod to Kierkegaard and Walker Percy: existentialist tomfoolery, political satire, literary homage, word mongering, a year-round summer reading club, Dylanesque music bits, apocalyptic marianism, poetry, fiction, meta-porn, a prisoner work-release program.
JOB
Conflicted in early life between his desire to be a weatherman for local community access cable stations and a man who wears pants in July, JOB took the middle road and now writes poems between every waking moment. [Read More …]
Southern Expat
All you need to know is that I'm a lady, understand?
Behave yourselves accordingly. [Read More …]
Because most theologies that frown on reproduction don’t survive?
(Shakerism was tried in the 19th century. Didn’t it frown on reproduction? It failed.)
Angelico,
Actually, if you think about it, in their own way the Shakers succeeded.
After all, like the Hittites, there aren’t too many of them around any more…
Unless of course you count sweaters and furniture.
JOB
Well, everyone ceases to exist. Doesn’t mean everyone’s a failure.
One man’s definition of not-failure is another man’s definition of success.
“Dying out” was their one infallible doctrine. I guess it sorta caught on with everyone else – except the GOP candidates, apparently…
JOB
Oh, come on – I was quoting Metropolitan!
[pauses, thinks, sips drink]
Sweaters, furniture, and the melody of that celebrated liturgical trope, ‘The Lord of the Dance’.
True dat Angelico on the reproduction. Not only do the materialists frown on reproduction, they aid in the demise of the living.
Materialists: God hating, people killing, police state imposing, war mongering, joy stealing, no imagination havin, soylent green eating, bureaucracy luvin mofos.
Probably should replace “people killing” with “death dealing” as a shout out to WP.
I will show you fear in a handful of soylent green.
If you can’t field at least a baseball team, you ought’nt even try.
Used to be everyone around here had large families; then the big citytooken away the ones we did have; and dairy bucolic became a Big Farm; and guvment subsidies made it impossible to rely on your own seed, as it were…
JOB
‘Round these parts, we spell it “guvmint.” Must be a regional thing.
The Norwegian queering of the final syllable final caught up to me, I guess.
Oh, yah, youbetcha, mmhm.
JOB
Matthew Lickona: Mao hat wearing, french wine drinking, baby’s daddy breedin, guvmint saying mofo.
JOB: Pig hand having, heretic roastin, word queering, Polock-vodka drinking, guvment saying mofo.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
I don’t suppose there’s another forum, real or otherwise, where I can defend Rick Santorum. In the interview with Piers Morgan, he seemed like a nice man, even when trying to defend abortion in all circumstances. And his wife looked like she could make up her own mind, although I am suspicious of the motives for having large families, and his views on foreign policy, from the little I’ve heard, sound terrible. But for once the Republicans don’t seem, as people, as bad as Conservatives, although I sadly haven’t followed the primaries as closely as I’d have liked to because it seems great fun.
“I am suspicious of the motives for having large families”
Motive? If we had anything like motivation, we’d probably have fewer kids.
Nevertheless, if one must have a motive, ours was probably lust.
Why would one want to leave the unreal Korrektiv forum, for a real forum? It is difficult to develop a real forum when you play all the parts. By far the most difficult parts to play are Angelico and Expat. It is hard to be original and clever simultaneously. The easiest parts to play are JOB and Lickona. In JOB’s wounded meter, I can shat out couplets like words through a Shakespearean goose’s sleeve. I’ve even earned enough money as a poet for a daily purchase of some of the finest domestic malt liquors ever made. FUEL! Today in Porn writes itself. All you have to do is throw in a couple self-loathing posts to add depth. I can do that in my dream state which adds a further level of non-reality and detachment to the site.
When you have an unreal place like Korrektiv why journey to the desert of the real with grocery clerk errand boys and nabobs? What’s in a name like Korrektiv? A rose is just a fire that smells sweet, and as they say: “six of one, half a dozen of the other”. Which is analogous to time present and time past which are both contained in a futuristic Grecian urn filled with the naked minds of my generation who are all hiding from the madness and a sweet smelling armpit somewhere above that Tintern abbey pleasure-dome decreed by J-PO-MO-FO. O THAT I WERE A FOOL, shaking couplets from my sleeve like shit through a death dealing Shakespearean goose. O’per’haps like little Jaymesie Joyce (who by the way would have been a good man if there was somebody there to shoot him every minute of his life) attending young Quin O’Finnegan’s wake, or is it a dream? Aye there is the rub, that perchance makes a calamity of so long a life, not to be confused with a waking dream which is unreal like Korrektiv with a glass of wine, a filet, and Agent Smithy (who knows that if God does not exist then all things are permitted) while standing under the spreading chestnut tree. Hwaet!
The motives for having a large family are simple and clear. You need a couple kids to lay down suppression fire while the others reload the 50. I’d write a clever response from Angelico right now, but I am in a hurry. The Korrektiv troika keeps rolling on.
No need to thank me, it was only an onion.
That’s it. We might as well end the blog right here. Our work is done.
This is the way the blog ends?
This is the way the blog ends?
This is the way the blog ends?
That teenage girl from Moses Lake is in college now.
That should have been ‘opposed’, not defended. He spoke convincingly, even if he has apparently changed his mind.
Thanks for that, Churchill.
You’re welcome.
So:
O’Brien/Lickona 2016
or
Lickona/O’Brien 2016
?
It’s difficult to comment without being as pretentious as you’re pretending to be. But are you saying Flannery O’Connor is as bad a Nietzsche, or that I’m only nice [sorry about the self reference] because I’m scared the whole time?