Escape from Elba
Exiles of the New York Times
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Author Topic: Creative Writing  (Read 27049 times)
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learn.
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« Reply #1395 on: June 27, 2007, 08:20:03 PM »

Puget:  You had six syllables in the second line of your haiku, not to be too "critical," but as critic supremo, thought I would mention it--you're not too bright are you?

What just Desserts
Creative writing gets
Such Learned Hand Job
-jbottle

Jbottle -- actually it is you who had the six syllables. Now that funny. Correcting someone else and you're wrong, classic putz.
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Haiku

Children are sponges.
Others actions are absorbed.
Is the water clean?
jbottle
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« Reply #1396 on: June 27, 2007, 08:38:50 PM »

I reckon what you
learned types like is a plain
fuck yourself asshole
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learn.
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« Reply #1397 on: June 27, 2007, 09:02:31 PM »

Nice comeback bottle
You were correcting yourself
HA, HA, HA, HA, HA

Have another drink
Numb painful, inner demons
Have - Sex on the beach

Oh, that's what it is.
Keep correcting your lovers?
You've been missing out?


Try using write hand.
Maybe talent will rub off
My guess -  shortcomings.

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Haiku

Children are sponges.
Others actions are absorbed.
Is the water clean?
learn.
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« Reply #1398 on: June 27, 2007, 09:36:09 PM »

WAAAWWWHHH, cries jbottle.
Sounds like bottle needs a bottle
With some soap in it

Hugs and kisses too.
Massive therapy needed
May have to break glass.
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Haiku

Children are sponges.
Others actions are absorbed.
Is the water clean?
jbottle
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« Reply #1399 on: June 27, 2007, 09:54:30 PM »

Wow, you really throw out the troll smack, exacty when did the real humiliation come for you, when you couldn't play sports and guys like me got all the girls, or maybe you weren't into girls and were more *sensitive* and actually pretty dumb, the only thing that ever gave you anything was a keyboard, you pussy.
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pugetopolis
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« Reply #1400 on: June 27, 2007, 11:03:56 PM »



A Review of Mr. Jerkbottom’s Latest Haiku

I reckon what you
learned types like is a plain
fuck yourself asshole

I must say (as Madame Merkin would fondly “say” during our long lovely evenings of bridge after a little wine)—I must say that Mr. Jerkbottom (excuse me Mr. Jbottle) is quite the quite. Quite the creative poet—and quite the creative critic.

Rarely does one find such exquisite poetic creativity working “hand-in-hand” (Huh) -- together with such a keen sense of deliciously creative criticism!!!

Not since my freshman days at Harvard have I had the pleasure of reading such an astute tidbit of Whitmanesque worldly wisdom—so nicely phrased with just the right nuance of chic literary flair plus no-nonsense naughty nincompoopery.

And I should know—after all, my dears, my latest long-awaited best-seller entitled Gogol’s Asshole—The Latest Poop on 19th Century St. Petersburg Literati (New York: Ink Press, 2007) has ascended the throne and ensconced itself there rather nicely at the top of the NYTimes Top Ten list. And my latest podcast interview with moody Madame Tanenhaus has garnished simply rave reviews from here to Poughkeepsie.

Speaking of “Bottoms-Up,” let’s take a brief creative peek-a-boo at Mr. Jerkbottom’s latest ditty:

“I reckon what you
learned types like is a plain
fuck yourself asshole”


See how “down-to-earth” and so very “Leaves of Grass” Mr. Jerkbottom begins this haiku? It makes my heart flutter and my little innocent virgin anus sphincter tighten up so nicely like it does—whenever a man says “I reckon” with that deep male baritone butchy tone and gets down to some serious business.

Let’s skip the “learned types”—we all know who they are. They’re the ones over in Fiction and Meander—who actually read books and know what they’re talking about. They deserve our respect—after all somebody’s got to do the reading around here. It’s a dirty job—but somebody’s got to do it. Jerkbottom and me—we prefer the easy way out. We do the writing—and leave the reading up to the intelligentsia dontchaknow.

Mr. Jerkbottom is such a creative genius—he saves the best for last: a “plain fuck yourself asshole.” Ah, such wondrous words from such a silver-tongued eloquent country poet. And so down-to-earth—just a “plain fuck” type of guy. But even better than that—such a lovely everyday simple Whitmanesque “plain fuck yourself asshole” -- down & dirty without any bourgeois shame or blushing kissy-faced bashfulness. Just the facts ma'am -- just the facts. That's the way to end a haiku—with a perky little wiggle and snap.

I must say that Mr. Jerkbottom ranks up there with the best—probably Jerkbottom is today the Best American Poshlust Postmodern Poet of the Land!!! Yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury -- I’m sure we’ll hear more from Mr. Jerkbottom in the days and long stormy nights ahead...

Sincerely yours,
God

« Last Edit: June 27, 2007, 11:16:22 PM by pugetopolis » Logged

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jbottle
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« Reply #1401 on: June 28, 2007, 12:26:21 AM »

got gotten?  lol
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #1402 on: June 28, 2007, 08:12:31 AM »

exploded in anger.  "I am trying to conduct a serious investigation into the disappearance of Mubai relics!"  Why won't anyone pay attention?
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What does it matter?  All is grace.
chauncey.g
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« Reply #1403 on: June 28, 2007, 08:36:22 AM »

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Ms. Jones entered Carbuncle's office holding in her hand a box of matches.
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Beppo
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« Reply #1404 on: June 28, 2007, 08:40:11 AM »

Ms Jones began: "Althorp Woolfhardisworthy didn't give a hoot for the Mumbai dig. He'd long ago abandoned the idea that ancient discoveries could shed light on the nature of history and existence in the light of technological advancements made in modern times. His preferred system of discovery in archaeology involved three shots of mezcal, half a worm           
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Eva
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« Reply #1405 on: June 28, 2007, 08:46:06 AM »

and a dose of fibre-optics, otherwise known as a flash-in-the-
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Beppo
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« Reply #1406 on: June 28, 2007, 08:59:25 AM »

cholmondley.

Fear gripped Carbuncle's heart.

"I won't have no truck..."
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #1407 on: June 28, 2007, 09:06:22 AM »

"...with anyone who spells his name "Cholmondley" and pronounces it 'Chumley.'"

Cholthilde interjected her but.  "But Inspector, you pronounce your name 'Crunkle.'"
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What does it matter?  All is grace.
Beppo
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« Reply #1408 on: June 28, 2007, 09:09:31 AM »

"Yes but my Great Uncle Featherstonehaugh, the great Victorian sleuth, always said that a man should never..."
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whiskeypriest
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« Reply #1409 on: June 28, 2007, 09:15:22 AM »

admit to being named after a pussy abscess.  Of course, he pronounced his name Featheraw" so..."
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What does it matter?  All is grace.
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