Bulwer-Lytton & I take time off

Had enough of it. Obama wanting to regulate our Tylenol, and these spoiled children in charge – it’s all driven me over the edge. America was never supposed to be an adolescent-run, over-managed nanny state giving support to despots while backhanding democratic allies and treating elected officials (and their wives) like royalty. But that seems to be where we are headed.

Everything will still be there tomorrow, but I’m sick to death of all of it, today.

Fr. Mabura
knows.

It was a dark and stormy night:
Thank goodness I had The Bulwer-Lytton Contest Winners for 2009 to keep me distracted from the creaking of the beams and the scurrying of frightened mice who would creep and then shiver, ducking before hopping and then creeping some more across the creaking beams in particular fright, since the beams were creaking; they made a sound (the beams, not the mice) like a violin being stepped on – not a violin made by Stradivarius, which might yet be tuneful, but a violin made by some French-Canuck luthier who had not allowed his green wood to properly age, because he was poor and toothless, and needed quick cash for his ailing father, who had accidentally chopped off his foot while opening a beer can with an axe. So, the beams sounded like a wet-wood violin being stepped on – not at the neck, but on the body – with a pair of wooden clogs, because what else would a poor French-and-toothless-Canuck luthier wear but wooden clogs…not green ones, though, because only the Dutch would dare…and the sound was a sound of crrruush and boink, and soggy hopelessness, and the sound made the mice scurry, and scurry they did into the waiting mouth of an alligator which little Billy had brought back from a family trip to Florida and never told his mother about. Had he told her, she would have stopped looking for his little sister, Tawdry, many years earlier.

Wow…writing that poorly is not easy. Give it a shot in the comments section!

Boxing? It works!

Anti-Semites: GM takes them to cleaners

Check out Deacon Greg’s post: he’s got Bill Bailey doing the moonwalk (and dancing en pointe), long before Michael Jackson was a twinkle in his mother’s eye, or (as DCThornton says, a dollar sign in his father’s.

About Elizabeth Scalia
  • Fr. Kenneth A

    It was a dark and stormy night, and the country was reeling under the influence of the draconian taxation imposed by its newly elected president, and how, how was Merwin going to pay the property taxes on Albermarle, the ancient manor entrusted to him by his long suffering family! In truth he did not know. The very thought filled him with dread and left his very being empty. With a mind numbing ferocity the entire situation had grown to overwhelm even now. Now, as he walked, silently, towards the cliff, overlooking the wind tossed sea, into which he intended to leap to a tragic death, if only because it was the most beautiful spot on the coast, even amidst the raging gale.

    Augh, so much drama. Well, off to finish reading. Hope you are feeling better.

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  • DWiss

    It was a dark and stormy night, but the sun was already rising in the western sky, but that can’t be right, so maybe it was a dark and stormy evening, but more like partly cloudy with heavy rain so that the sunset was visible to the naked eye. Only the eye was naked, this being a family story, and if he could remember if it was red sky at night or red sky in the morning the confusion as to time of day would clear up. But the storm hadn’t so it was still raining. Hard. But not scarey hard, because this isn’t a Stephen King novel. You’ll know what kind of novel it is when it’s over, or sometime before if you’re a perceptive reader. So, it was raining hard enough that everyone was getting pretty wet, but still could see that the sun was either rising or setting, so thinking about delicious dinners or breakfasts, depending.

    (This is fun. Now I know how James Joyce did it.)

  • Therese Z

    For years, I treasured the postcard they sent in response to an entry I sent them, that went something like

    “What you sent us was really quite dreadful, but not dreadful enough to win.”

    I still laugh at that little silliness.

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  • mchristian

    It was a dark and stormy night. The drenching rain beat upon the damp lawn and ran in streaming rivulets across the wet earth. The crackling electricity in the air was so palpable you could almost touch it. Suddenly, the rain stopped and the sodden silence reached an eerie crescendo.

    And…that’s all I’ve got. My apologies to all those writers with actual talent.

  • Andy waits

    one dark night in the evening lack of light I wrote to my sister how black everything seemed. I hadn’t paid the light bill since uncle mary joined our blackout society. She has a wonderful tan and wears dark navy blue suits. This was her night to lead the meeting but since she hasn’t been seen in several hours we looked for her in the dark night searching not so hopefully to find her in her dark suit. I forgot to say we wear bilateral eye blinds so I took them off and she was in the river on the end of a hook. We all removed them then and it was a bright and very sun shiny day thank God.


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