And the sun beamed down on the gastroenterologist's brown Probe reflecting a rainbow of colour from the freshly wet chrome. In the middle of the road it caresses the cover of a ghastly, handbound book. That caught Geppetto's eye. The butt doctor couldn't resist squatting to pick up the book. He had found it. The Book of the Dead.

rock out, whatever you feel like

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TIilpCMo95k

It stinks in here, said the goat after pissing on herself to cool off in the blazing heat.

seriously?

You've never watched the goat in action?

I agree, we have entirely different ideas about what is entertaining! I am sure of that.

Immediately springs into the scene, Mick Jagger and Company, crazed eyes sporting black hoodies and executioner style, double bladed adzae to serve as the axiom of their delight.



(Yes, Herc. You treasure the mundane works of redundant plagiarism. I prefer originality...)

I said I agree!

But the controller was broken. Mediocrity sank with the bank. The proletariat's hole in the wall was created and splattered with the black blood from the shotgun blast to his brain. Still he had only taken off his face and a minor part of his frontal lobes. He made bad choices. Took the life of his wife when the sewer backed up and she nagged at him night and day. Night and day. The day she baked the backed up sewage into a shepherd's pie, serving in glee with a smile then a sigh. When asked he had said it simply left a foul taste in his mouth and that was all he could take. That was all she would bake... ever again.

From then on he had half a face and half a brain. He rain out screaming into the rain. "I simply must rave! I'm partly Dave."

black blood, shepherd's pie and bad choices

I have a problem with that last statement. I read both of you guys. Heraclitis is (a) a better writer and (b) stands up pretty well to a fact check.

Sounds like confirmational bias... cliquety quack goes the train on the track... just a half a mile from the little brown sack...

At least Herac and I have something to read.
Creativity is something you need.

The definition of confirmational bias.

It's like the one who knows all about a persons work, such as DaVinci, by looking at one of his thumbnail sketches.

Does the armchair critic in a well defined clique gain a brownie point with the dominant clique member by giving truthful critique to a possibly superior nemesis?

It has always been amusing to see how so many essentially illiterate people can always attest to the skills of a blatantly naive artist being superior to those of the ones using scientific perspective and deft brush strokes. The illiterate cannot truly process 3 dimensions, so chooses the 2 dimensional naive artist, even though that guy's work sports poor proportion. It reduces art, no differently than politics, to popularity instead of quality.

E.G.: Goofus has never read the novel I've been writing. He won't because it is beyond his grasp, so, of course, he won't like it. Doesn't matter if an educated person can and does. The "clique master" will always be the better man.

Your last post confirms the attached quote's relevance. You don't know jack about any of us yet you call us illiterate? I just graduated (master's degree) top of my class at the number one social work program in the country, and my writing was so highly thought of by the faculty that I am on full scholarship in the PhD program - dual-degree in clinical social work and criminal justice. Your delusional grandiosity is outdone only by your arrogance. Why would you take exception to the aphorism, "The greatest obstacle to discovering the truth is being convinced that you already know it" unless you are insecure about the descrepency between what you know and what you want others to believe you know? And you are a "doctor" of what exactly?