Somany toomany somany things. Somany. Sounds like a soap. Somany Moisturizing Body Soap. Or tiles. I think there actually are Somany tiles. Somany things include a sixtieth birthday (plees, let them eat cake), the usual disarray of knee-tremblers (out of the gutter, ok?) on the world news, my own dillicate constitution, boogeriffic EXAMS.
So what do I do? Naturally I draw crap. Aw, innit cute.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Free drinks for ladies with deez nuts.
And you thought 'Trespassers Will Be Prostetuted' was funny.
Found this on the corner bracket above the phone, which means I owe my father thanks for saving it from the indiscriminate maw of the rubbish bin.
Is it not brilliant and beautiful and life-affirming? Are you not suddenly eager to seek out this resort and spend all your hard-earned (or hard-wheedled) money on its various delectables?
This may be a good place to announce my Official Position on Engrish. I must respectfully disagree with everyone who has suggested that being a connoisseur of Engrish is a subtle or blatant form of racism, of making fun of those who do not know that hegemaniac tongue well enough to produce boringly correct slogans and signs. I love mistakes. I love the accidental misreading, the typo, the freudian slip. I love Engrish for what it finds in translation. I love its pokerfacedness, its spirit of joyful (in)appropriation*, its excesses and abscesses.
Viva la Engrish! Long may the Cuntry Club prosper as a haven for cunning linguists across the world.
* Ha! test-driving the jargon.
Found this on the corner bracket above the phone, which means I owe my father thanks for saving it from the indiscriminate maw of the rubbish bin.
Is it not brilliant and beautiful and life-affirming? Are you not suddenly eager to seek out this resort and spend all your hard-earned (or hard-wheedled) money on its various delectables?
This may be a good place to announce my Official Position on Engrish. I must respectfully disagree with everyone who has suggested that being a connoisseur of Engrish is a subtle or blatant form of racism, of making fun of those who do not know that hegemaniac tongue well enough to produce boringly correct slogans and signs. I love mistakes. I love the accidental misreading, the typo, the freudian slip. I love Engrish for what it finds in translation. I love its pokerfacedness, its spirit of joyful (in)appropriation*, its excesses and abscesses.
Viva la Engrish! Long may the Cuntry Club prosper as a haven for cunning linguists across the world.
* Ha! test-driving the jargon.
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