He observed the battles of ants and made friends with plants (”at the age of eight I was still dreaming of being classified as a plant”).

In the evening, she proposed that the three of them should visit the Pit Theatre, in Stench Street, Seven Dials, to see a new play by Brandt Slurb called “Manallalive-O!”, a Neo-Expressionist attempt to give dramatic form to the mental reactions of a man employed as a waiter in a restaurant who dreams that he is the double of another man who is employed as a steward on a liner, and who, on awakening and realizing that he is still a waiter employed in a restaurant and not a steward employed on a liner, goes mad and shoots his reflection in a mirror and dies.

Could witnessing human beings stuck in quicksand over and over as a child possibly lead to this unusual fetish?

Most petty aesthete byitches love to chant “boring”, since they don’t know what a propositional account of language consists of, what referential semantics consists of, what verification is.

Kaufmanm the clown, you’re obviously not a graduate student in any discipline deserving of respect ( a Phd in rhetoric and comma corrections? hah), and you’re not in charge of sheet, tho’ you like to assume you are. Yr another comma-correcting fraud on the state dole, really. Heh heh. I am a grad student as well, and were I to lower myself to your level and do the little LIT-scholar pp contest that vermin such as you engage in, my grades, scores, writings, foreign language skills, GREs would prove to be at least as strong as yours (ah know now ah’ll get some lame predictable macho mousestein response). Anyways, LIT , like theology, lacks, as that ol’ boor Descartes suggested in regards to intellecual matters, clear and distinct ideas. Thus, it’s mere scholarship, and not only mere scholarship, but mere scholarship paid for by the state.

Yr a pathetic mockery of real lit. as well, and I doubt you know The Red and the Black, much less the Red Badge of COurage, from like your Ethel Merman and Milton Berle CDs.

A comment from the poster Holbo was talking about in the previous quote.  The internet is a strange place

Since uttering P in a gonzo manner does not a proof of P make, you are up argument creek without a paddle most days of the week (including weekends).

(John Holbo in a blog comment.  The first clause of this sentence might be worthy of broader use)

This lightly skewed some of the gender-based statistics in Julie Bihn’s nonfiction masterpiece, Come Along, You Belong, an analysis of Rescue Rangers fan society online.

At bottom, Belgianness is a diffuse awareness of a lack.

Jeans may seem like they’re comfortable and casual, but they’re actually very dangerous.

Time, which had been behaving normally lately, suddenly began to spin upon a bright point in endless space.

If we are to believe him, it would seem that, for him, regular participation in orgies was some sort of exercise akin to bicycle riding or calisthenics.