We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
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Wednesday, January 14. 2009
Photo: The Maggie's Farm Team presenting the coveted imitation-parchment Maggie's Farm Blog Award to a fortunate winner. (Surely you can pick out our specific contributors in the pic.)
NB: There will be no awards to major sites (ie those with ginormous traffic), in keeping with our envy-filled, redistributionist, Commie, Eat-The-Rich-And-Overly-Successful-and-Overly-Compentent-and Unfairly-Life-Skilled ideology to which we cling here at Maggie's (along with our Bibles, beer, guns, and our Pilgrim heritage). Additional winners will be announced through the end of the week. Here's today's batch:
Wryest and Driest: IowaHawk
Always Thinks When He Writes: AVI
Best New Shrink Blog We Found This Year: Ars Psychiatrica
Best Toons: Theo
Best Reportage: Michael Yon
Most Likeable Social Worker: neoneoneoneo
Winners can see a close-up of their award, and award money transfer details, via one of our previous 2008 awards posts here.
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Well, it should come as no surprise that I'm just a kid. But it came as quite a shock to find out that Habu is a woman.
Great stuff --but what is a "compentent"? A tent for compens to sleep in?
Allways good to hear from our pal Iowa.
But what's this comment about Habo cross-dressing again? We thought he was back on his medication.
Habu in drag!!! Ha-ha-ha. True story: I knew a guy from childhood got heavy into the martial arts. Real big guy. I was walking through the local mall one day and I see him dressed like a Catholic school girl walking around the place. He looked pretty conflicted.
Hey! Why didn't my little piece of the web earn me at least a runner up 50¢ prize? I could use the money. I even submitted another site I designed (I've since added the pastor's photo to page three). Damn. The fix is in... Who do you have to not offend to catch a break around here?
I made the mistake of checking out Ars Psychiatrica. The first few entries were tame enough. Then I arrived at "George W. Bush Aphasic Bully." Whoa, I said to myself. The first section applauds an article from someplace called The Daily Beast and nods in agreement that today's "bullying" attitude in national politics is the fault of Republicans and their "mouthpiece" Fox News. Huh! I mean anyone who even casually observes the modern academia, NGO and media scene, to say nothing of Democrat politicians, cannot possibly draw the conclusion that Bush is the bully-er and not the bully-ee. This guy must live in an alternate universe unvisited by me. Amusingly, he then goes on, again, to praise a book of the silly Slate website publications of GWB's malapropisms. Not only does this tend to discredit his "bully-er" conclusion, but no mention is made of that fellow sufferer, the gaffe-o-matic machine, Joe "Plugs" Biden, to say nothing of the uber-successful movie study founder, Samuel Goldwyn. Sorry, Maggie but Ars Psychobabble will remain untouched from here on out. BTW is it standard practice for a psychiatric professional, such as this guy professes to be, to make fun of someone who he believes to suffer from aphasia? Just askin'.
It's probably that annoying "from thence he shall come again, with glory, to judge the quick and the dead;" it gets 'em every time.
You know, I used to live close to a Catholic girls school. I was walking the dog along the street when classes let out. I walked stoically past these Madonna like creatures of virtue stuffed into the tight fitting regaiia of the Catholic strictures and went straight home. My wife found me in the living room beating myself over the head with a copy of Victoria's Secret Catalog yelling, "Mea culpa! Mea culpa!" But you know, now all I have to do is think of this man wearing a tight angora sweater, a short plaid skirt, knee-high socks and pumps and all of the temptation those school girls in vixen's clothing arouse in me is gone. God works in mysterious ways. Praise God.
Finally! Someone besides Jimmy Carter admits lust! Jeez, jephnol, now you can give away a few embassies, the Panama Canal, help jihadi & communist takeovers of global oil supplies, entertain an uber-disgusto skin-lesioned crack headed lard ass "film-maker" (film --on his teeth?) at the party convention, build a few shacks for the cameras which will be elsewhere next day when the roof falls in on the single mother and her 4 children under 3, totally wreck the power & dignity of our culture & nation, and then finish up traipsing around world capitals calling Bush "duh worstis prezdent we dun evah had in ar whole histree".
that phrase has always bothered me --let me see if i can state it without soundig krazy. The battleground of the soul is everywhere, right? Embedded in language but of course, why wouldn't it be? "Nobody is perfect" sounds very humane, says 'judge not'. but a 'judge not' orld is full of misery --look around and see where license leads the vulnerable. Couldn't we do with a renewal of shame & shunning?
And another thing about that phrase --it refers to a being named "nobody" --and says that he "is perfect". Who is this creature who has insinuated himself into our language of mercy, under a title of negation? It's all pretty creepy when you think about it. OTOH, i could just be nuts.
Sorry Habu. I couldn't pick out who the winner was in the picture.
Another true story. In college, for one quarter, I was starting to hang out with guy I recognized from high school, but hadn't known, because he seemed like an entertaining sort. Then somebody else I’d known from high school took me aside. “Uh, you probably don’t want to be seen with that guy. I had to take the bus home late from working downtown and I saw him. He was staggering around in a stupor with a bunch of creepy looking mostly naked men covered in some kind of oily substance.” Many years later at my HS reunion I found out he’d become a gay civil rights attorney in Miami Beach.
Jeeze, that's harsh! I'd rather be compared to a monkey with a rash.
"Nobody is perfect." That phrase has bothered you because it's an over-used cliche. It says nothing, and in saying nothing, it demeans the recipient of the phrase. Name your cliche - it diminishes the recipient and as a nice bonus, makes the utterer, because that's what cliches do - \\\ u t t e r /// inanities, look kind of stupid. Language is power, and if all one can come up with is a cliche, they lose power.
It's fine if someone wants to come back with the cliche that cliches are cliches because they say it so well. Ding.
Allow me to take this opportunity to tell BD and B. how fun it is when they write. You both seem to be writing more these days, and it's good stuff. Please keep it up!
agree --the whole MF directorship seems to be --via ever quirkier observation writ ever more economically --mounting with elan a midwinter march on malign 4th wall meretricious muse parsiflage.
Cliche fave: Norm @ Cheers: "Women. Can't live with 'em, can't live with 'em." That coulda been Cliff but i think it was Norm.
Norm, you know, along with someone named Max, invented the hi/lo settings on Ford's a/c dashboard controls.
gay civil rights att'y: A boy named "sue!"
This was found at a link provided by Grace on the thread from the other day (post about Orthodox Catholicism) called "Holiness is in the struggle" - could be subtitled "No one is perfect".
That said, I summize the guy in the white hat looks 'bout as near perfick as 1 kin git.
Hey Buddy, What'dya jus say? My comprehension antennae are mashed down by my baseball cap.
I wanted to ask you. I was driving home today from a distance from home all groovin to tunes mineless as I cud be whin I thot about yore Chihuahua havin his lef signal on alla time cos he had to use it to sit on so he cud steer. Do you let all six of yer Chihuahuas drive yore truk or jus that one? Does the fat black Lab shift?
I lik thet a fine cowboy lik youse has six Chihuahuas.
Greased gay attorneys and sex Chihuahuas? This blog is going down hill.
naw, she said six not sex. be keerful or you 2 will hafta promise the sheriff you will git yoreself a hear'n aid.
whut happent wuz, someone said "Name them 6 chihuahuas monday thru saturday so yew can recallem easay"
so i did-and all six is named that, whuch i breviate and say as "mon dash sat".
so later thar i wuz walken 'em in the park when up comes this passable if a mite skinny gal name of Mary who commences askin "whut is this chihuahuas name" and "whut is that chihuahuas name" and so on n so forth, and each time i sez back to her "mon dash sat", and on and on 6 times, "mon dash sat".
well turns out she couldnt bleave all 6 hed the same name (i lernt this later an to my roo full shame) so she come to figger thet i wuz hurtin & in payne & wuz a sayin' overen over "Monday i shat, monday i shat, Monday I Shat" over and over.
well since Monday at thet time wuz nearbouts a week gorn, she sed:
"Poor dear, Ex Lax is very good and it works, too...frees you gentle!"
which i heerd over all them mon dash sat's yippen n abarkin' as
"Poke here, sex relaxes Mary good and I want to...seize your genitals!"
so i went to yodelin & whistlin & shuckin off muh hat & boots & britches and damn if she dint holler, whip out her cellphone, climb a oak tree & call the sheriff!
but i didn't notice at the time & so when he drove up a minit laiter hit were just aboot when--due to she was swotten me with a purty durn stout oak branch ever time i got in range up in that oak tree --i had begun to reelize thet ther muss tave been a glitch somewhar in the prire discoarse.
anyhoo, long & short, i hed to swar out a writn promise to git me a hear'n aid afore thay'd let me out the hoos gow.
so the morl of the story is be ware of strange chantroosis purty of laig and mush of mouf whom you caint heer good when they ax aftre sumthin --i'd say partikulerly proseed caushus if you have 6 chihuahuas but thet may be to put on it too fine a pernt fer the nonce --thar is of coarse evr reezn to be Bold When Ardent but thet is to be forevre & alwayz the case onliest IF you ar NOT embairst and i do mean severe embairst by say forex ample lookin down to see a good size passel of yore pairnts & grampairnts congregationulists & naybers formd up rankin file and a cheerin like as if a high steaks hoss race & showin i caint gainsay no small glee at thet gal Mary & her cussed oaken stave a hollern an a clobbern wile you block & parry as best you kin whilst starin wistfully tward yor britches on thet yonder stump so proudly innersent of scandal & so elloquent of thay masters intensions thet thay might as well be not a pair of britches but a pair of Mississippi Riverboat Paddlewheel Steemers with the New York & the Philedelphy Fillermonic Orkesters arrayd acrost the Poop Decks en tandum playin the Triumpfill Crash Endo Finali of the Tchaikovski 1812 Overture while a vasty pod of pink & green Belugas breech & blow with the cRasHiNg sYmBoLS and boOMINg caNNoN
"...'bout as near perfick as 1 kin git"
As 1 what kin git?
My God! This literary expostulation is stupendous! As worthy of note as the works of Faulkner himself--The Sound and the Fury I tell you, The Sound and the Fury! You my friend should rush out and acquire a literary agent before the whole publishing industry collapses and present your shining example man/child point of view fused with gobs of contemporary philosophical moral confusion. Don't bother distributing your work to Borders or Barnes & Noble as they're on the verge of obsolescence but with Amazon! Amazon I tell you. This is the cusp between the ascendency of the democratization of book sales and the nationalization of Amazon as a monopoly book seller. Now. Now!!! No more brick and mortar book mongering nor rows and rows of colorful, lovely paper books. You must kindle the fame you deserve in this moment. Now. Now!!!
This generations Faulkner... And I was there!
haw --what you just wrote, THAT was writin'. anyway we know who to blame --it was meta --inciting to riot, making us clog like laurel & hardy following Ginger Rogers, punk'd-out performers in her midnight garden of the dennis deconcinis.
I did not mayke you clog in the midnight garden of good an weasels, Buddy Larsen, Cowboy with six Chihuahuas and a fat lab. Yore makin op stuf an passin the butt jus lik alus an beside youse didn tell thee hole storee abowt how Mary likt yore weiner dog unleeshed as et wus an let you an thee MonDashAts ride home in her Priapic by Toy Ota. Go on an tell becos hets nasty whut youse don lettn them sex-cravd six Chihuahuas sneff two butts fore a ower. Gottdang yew ar a yarn spinnre lik I niver seed an ef et wus me Ide nivre let me Chihuahuas on thee bed jus becos theys cute an Paris has wun. An tell how the fat blak Lab jes laid ona flore an waitd. Chihuahuas ar genital-minded an I wud thump Mon, Tu, Wes, Thus, Fri, an Sat right off a clif ef they wus mine. Liddle shivry thaings weth they buggy eyes ain't fittin a def cowboy anyways.
Tell it rite, Buddy Larsen, yew trickster. An tell youse didn heer no orchistre becos youse def. Dumbass thainks we's dumb.
Bud Larsen: The Bone Ranger.