Wednesday, December 3, 2008

A Translation From The Original English, Part 2

In the Comment Field of the previous post, someone CLAIMING to be NickM has signed on and offered some faint praise, but also tried to make some corrections to the original text.

My children, we must hold everyone to a high standard of proof.

1) How do we know that this person really is NickM ? How do we know that he isn't some devious representative of The Flying Spaghetti Monster?
2) If we weren't supposed to have the original text, the text that has worked so well for us for so long, then why were we given the original text to begin with?
3) Doesn't it make sense that God would want us to have the original text?
4) What will happen to our standards, our values, our core beliefs, if any Limey With A Laptop can sign on and cause us to question our worldview?

Like Mr. Khoja's Koran, our sacred original text has given us comfort and guidance in times of trouble since.....early yesterday morning. We part from it at our own peril.

"(It) is no mere book, but is a living creature, with a power that conquers all that oppose it."




Nick M said...

I take the word "Limey" as a complement. After all the lime is the Monarch of the citrus fruits and the RN's application of it for scurvy, the prevention of, meant that Britannia ruled the waves and that the Sun never set on the British Empire - currently some penguins in the Falklands.

I assume the Napolean quote is his musings on the Qu'ran? Well Google "Battle of the Nile", or "Battle of Copenhagen" or "Trafalgar" or "Waterloo" to learn how we handed those cheese-eating surrender monkeys their ass back in a sling. RN again. Though obviously not at Waterloo. Obviously.

What I type is the truth and rendered in the language of the angels which as any fool knows is the demotic Anglo-Saxon and that is how I sound my barbaric yawp from the highest parapet of the Emerald City. That I actually live near Manchester is but a mere minor local difficulty, our kid.

Now loyal disciples. You can either take the words of the False Prophet of Fort Worthless or you can testify to the truth. Hellfire awaits those who make the wrong decision and their lot shall be burning sulphur (not sulfur) and involve infinite tiny demons sticking their tiny (but sharp) pitchforks into every nook and indeed cranny.

And whilst I do indeed have a laptop I tend to blog from my full-size machine, Thalia, in my shed. It is where the muse of fire descends and it is also where I drink the odd beer and and look at the pr0n. And very occasionally it is where I work very hard.

For that is the way of the tree of life. Or at least the apple tree just outside from which thwe squirrels (American Greys - not our own plucky little Reds)pelt me with nuts from the bird feeder. For such are indeed the travails of the one true prophet.

And here endeth the lesson.

PS Allen. The last time I posted here (apologies for the double post - cold plays havoc with the wifi)the word verification was "funsin" which I took as an omen of high import.

Nick M said...

Oh and you compared me to Faulkner. Never in the field of the English Language was there such a berk.

I once dated a Georgian (Atlanta, not Tblisi) and she was an Eng Lit student and she loved her Faulkner. Ya know the whole Southern "fever dream of sensuality" schtick so she bought me a copy of "Absolom, Absolom". And it's rot. The opening sentence is 1500 words long. My English teacher would have failed me for that. Billy F got the Nobel-effing-prize which is just not fair.

William Faulkner is officially the least readable author ever. With the exception of Heidegger (who was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table) and I have read Conrad. Conrad had an excuse. English was his third language.