If you do, then go to the Surrealist Compliment Generator. It’s a site that basically gives you a lot of surreal “compliments”… the reason why the word “compliments” is in quotes is that some of the sentences it spews out don’t even sound like they could be compliments by any stretch of the imagination! (some of them are in foreign languages)
Post what you get from the site… it’ll be interesting to see what we all get! I wouldn’t call it an experiment, per se, but certainly very interesting. (no, my brain cannot think of alternative words at this hour; it’s almost 12:30 and I should get to bed soon)
On my most recent visit, I got this:
Doesn’t even sound like a compliment, does it? I guess that’s what surrealism is all about… someone care to enlighten me?
Just in case you’re worried, this site does generate stuff that maybe could be construed as a compliment… for example:
Very confusing “compliment”… see what I mean?
Weird stuff, which is what I happen to like! Remembe, enlighten the rest of us by telling what you got from the site! (duplicates don’t really matter, I suppose)
Hmmm… "Your eyes are much like milky pools of pantyhose. "
“Where it not for the dizzy whiptail ambivalence of your crumbling fleece, I could never contemplate the ways of so many merchant bankers in heat.”
(Whoa, that was long.) “Suffer, for you are toasting the Marzipan!.. (…and may I upon pretense ring latent tintinabulations for your Andalusian raisins!)”
WTF? “Your elbow patches rumble with a fear reminiscent of mayonnaise sidecars cradled in scotchguard.”
Very surreal…
“Though I may never see you again, I wish you the warmest clam chowder, the finest of embalmings, and the best in stainless steel cadaver pans that money can buy.”
“You mutter such objects of equine delight, while in a basket of hounds and toes, that the mind’s ability to sew together slices of mordant ivory becomes tamed with visions of Tamils in Constantinople.”
Great, now I’m going to have a nightmare about a basket of hounds and toes…
“Oh how my pathological scar desires to read poems through the ruddied girth of your soul.”
Great. Even my soul is fat
“Your moist towelette speaks to me in leather as the disgruntled post man listens attentively in Yiddish while pumping the iron pumpkin of the mini-van”
I have no idea what to say except that I’m pretty sure ‘pumping the iron pumpkin of the mini-van’ will make you go blind.