Well, you see, he has FOLK talk.
I mean, the words, they all appear to be English, but I have no idea what he thinks about kneeling.
I’m of the opinion that Yankees is simply a scab in the message board’s leg, even though I have no idea what that actually means.
And thoughts.
(Sorry, couldn’t resist the straight line, let the pitting continue.)
I might suggest the old school one that Noodles Romanoff and his evil organization N.A.S.T.Y. (National Association of Spies, Traitors and Yahoos) used.
The Turtle Moves!
Ummm, okaaaay, sure you have the right thread?
(or was that meant for the McConnell Constipation Prayer Group?)
You have not understanding. Let the spirit of Om guide you.
Oh, and Russian trolls be dumb.
Could it be that “folk talk” is a mistranslation? “Vernacular” or “dialect” is what those of us who are native English speakers would say (or those of us who don’t use a not so good translator).
But he told us that he’s American and educated (in communications, mind you) at Rutgers University. So there shouldn’t be any issue of mistranslation.
Must…not…make…New…Jersey…joke…
I think he’s trying to say that he speaks in colloquialisms. They are, however, “colloquialisms” that have never been heard before on this planet.
A troll that lies? Who woulda thunk it? My dog can communicate better than this fucking troll, and his only formal training was to go outside to poop.
Overstated. I’m sure they’ve been heard in a different language. Perhaps a Slavic one?
Here you go, this explains everything. He spent so much time researching stories from Depression-era NYC and elsewhere that he combines speech patterns from multiple locations in ways that make no sense to the rest of us. Hell, that makes as much sense as anything he’s said.
Phonetically: narodnyy razgovor
Is a grammatically correct and common way to say “folk talk” in Russian. His English is not good enough to know that “folk talk” is an uncommon and entirely odd word combination.
Stewardess, I speak folk talk!
Oh, you speak folk talk? Well, let me tell you, Yankee, I rode on top of boxcars with Woody Guthrie, fixed Pete Seeger’s banjo, introduced Baez to Dylan, Emmylou to Gram, and two-thirds of the Kingston Trio. I slung a scuffed-up acoustic guitar over my shoulder and walked along the docks with John Prine, playing stevedore songs that we learned from Burl Ives… and you, sir, are no Burl Ives.
Ha!!!
You forgot Odetta.
Seem like “folk talk” should = “language of the people”. Far as I can tell, that ain’t it. At least no people outside of South Brooklyn.
A quotation from Martin Mull comes to mind:
“Remember the Great Folk Music Scare of the 1960s? That shit almost caught on!”
Ha! Passing that on to whichever old folkies that I played with are still alive…
If only that shit had caught on… life would be quieter. We were playing acoustic guitar/mandolin/bouzouki for a dozen beatnik-types in a basement espresso bar. And it was quiet enough to hear people snap their fingers or throw in a backup vocal or two. Try THAT at your Spice/Backstreet/K-pop/Dead Reunion Tour, ya mondo square daddy-o’s.
Oh, and our music cost $3 (but free if you made a donation… did I mention all the really good weed?).