I pit MiguelDetonacciones for thinking we're as stupid as he is

I was in the room the day a senior topologist tried to create an OPEN moebus loop.
He would have destroyed the universe that day, but for my trusty zippo.

Allusions to someone’s cultural accent or habits of pronunciation are ethnic slurs, not racist slurs. The pronunciation has nothing to do with the person’s physical make-up, skin-color, etc. It’s something learned from his society.

It’s still impolite, but it is not “racism.”

By the way, you’re a dolt.

Sosa I canna no longa do mya fatha guido salducci impreshun?

I haz a sad (<-- this is a speciesist not ethic or racist slur btw)

I don’t think either he or his imaginary troup of F.E.D. mystery monks will be coming back.

They will never really be gone as long as we keep them alive in our memory. [bows head in a solemn moment of silence]


His monk friends - the imaginary . . . Oh. :smack:

So, how’s the weather where you are?

Steamy. But I’m waiting for Satan to have a bowel movement so I can see what it’s like outside. :eek: :wink:

"He paid off his taxi – with a hearty tip, for one simply did not drive up to the front entrance of the Dyosphainthos and then stiff the cabbie – and wandered through the hotel’s more-than-opulent atrium. . . . "

You’ll make me a drunk, pedophile clown in the story if I try any kind of ‘driving up to Mordor’ gag right? :frowning:

As I don’t know what “Driving up to Mordor” gags are – please indulge in one! I’m keen to learn! I promise to include a “deltasigma” allusion of some sort!

“I’ve been through Mordor on a Warg with no name,
It felt good to get out of Rohan…”

Or come up with the Voynich manuscript.

I always marvel at these posts. So thorough. So detailed. There are rules. It may be gibberish but it’s thoroughly well thought out gibberish. It’s like making up a language, or a completely new game. Wonderfully original that I’m sure took up a lot of time yet… to no end. Kind of depressing now that I think about it…

Oooo, I hope that example doesn’t come back to haunt us. :eek: :wink:

The Voynich manuscript makes more sense than this guy.

Some people have made the mistake of seeing Shunt’s work as a load of rubbish about railway timetables, but clever people like me, who talk loudly in restaurants, see this as a deliberate ambiguity, a plea for understanding in a mechanized world. The points are frozen, the beast is dead. What is the difference? What indeed is the point? The point is frozen, the beast is late out of Paddington. The point is taken. If La Fontaine’s elk would spurn Tom Jones the engine must be our head, the dining car our oesophagus, the guard’s van our left lung, the cattle truck our shins, the first-class compartment the piece of skin at the nape of the neck and the level crossing an electric elk called Simon. The clarity is devastating. But where is the ambiguity? It’s over there in a box. Shunt is saying the 8.15 from Gillingham when in reality he means the 8.13 from Gillingham. The train is the same only the time is altered. Ecce homo, ergo elk. La Fontaine knew his sister and knew her bloody well. The point is taken, the beast is moulting, the fluff gets up your nose. The illusion is complete; it is reality, the reality is illusion and the ambiguity is the only truth. But is the truth, as Hitchcock observes, in the box? No there isn’t room, the ambiguity has put on weight. The point is taken, the elk is dead, the beast stops at Swindon, Chabrol stops at nothing, I’m having treatment and La Fontaine can get knotted.

Silly Shunt.