tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post2938612076359405745..comments2024-03-19T01:52:00.810-05:00Comments on Althouse: Sunrise... midday beach-scape... moonrise hammock-scape.Ann Althousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01630636239933008807noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-40334945184495951662008-09-15T02:10:00.000-05:002008-09-15T02:10:00.000-05:00good griefthey should come out with a camerathat h...good grief<BR/><BR/>they should come out with a camera<BR/>that has a gyroscopic option that wrestles <BR/>the photographer's grip, automatically<BR/>placing the horizon according to the kodak<BR/>book of etiquette<BR/><BR/>beautiful languid momentUnknownhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00204706506025528522noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-44978642625495593352008-09-14T23:09:00.000-05:002008-09-14T23:09:00.000-05:00Just a small pointer. The middle picture of the be...Just a small pointer. The middle picture of the beach has the horizon dead center. It should be at the top third of the picture. The color is great!photomanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05742870218357644761noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-14613533749730470352008-09-14T21:44:00.000-05:002008-09-14T21:44:00.000-05:00Who's the hot blonde?Who's the hot blonde?Dactylhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11336928396871701120noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-41876151719670097272008-09-14T21:43:00.000-05:002008-09-14T21:43:00.000-05:00She basks in beauty.She basks in beauty.Peter V. Bellahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04209902525167395224noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-55145680154128402472008-09-14T19:39:00.000-05:002008-09-14T19:39:00.000-05:00Grusinskaya (bursts into their suite, with a vein ...Grusinskaya (bursts into their suite, with a vein pulsing in her neck): What have you done you pasty faced puta? You have published my secret photos for all the world to see. Now everyone is talking. How could you?<BR/>Miss Peggy Noonan (cowering on a settee, holding a whimpering dog, the marks and bruises of Grusinskaya attempted strangulation vivid on her alabaster skin). <BR/>But I thought you would be proud. Look at this languid pose in you black domatrix pajamas that I love so much. Your son young Werther did such a good job in the composition. He captured you sensuous nature without revealing too much of your cootch. Although the kneecaps are a little knobby. And your blouse looks like you stuffed a squirrel in there. But it is still most comely.<BR/>Grusinskaya: You fool! That was a private matter not to be bandied about in club house or tavern. Who knows what louts might pleasure themselves at the site of me in my dishabille. <BR/>Miss Peggy Noonan: Well what of this photo of your tender tootsies. Why did you take such a picture if not to taunt your many admirers? That young law student is always corresponding with you making his longing manifest like a starving man staring at an éclair. Or your other friend, the chicken fancier. Even he was moved to drop his squab and comment on your pulchritude.<BR/>Grusinskaya: My admirers are none of your nevermind. If you want to remain in my company you must shape up and bow down.<BR/>Miss Peggy Noonan: Well you did not say that last night when you were spanking me with your first edition of Blackstone and massaging my love button with you freakishly long toes.<BR/>Grusinskaya: You blowsy bitch, I told you that I control you. You must be punished! (She jumps across the table and begins to throttle the albino opinion maker)<BR/>Miss Peggy Noonan: Pllleeaasse sssttttoooopppp iiitttttt, IIIIIIIII wwwwwiiiiillll lllllleeeeeaaaaveeee hhhhhiissss ccccchhhhiiiiicccckkkkkeeennnn aaaaallllllooooonnnnneeeeeee!!!!!!<BR/>Grusinskaya: Shut up you pervert…you know you are enjoying this<BR/>Miss Peggy Noonan: Yooouu onlllly hurtttt meeee cccaaauuuse yoooouuu loooovvve meeeeee (She falls unconscious as her nipples come fully erect and her shift becomes damp).<BR/>Baron Felix von Geigern's dog; Woof!<BR/>(Grand Hotel, 1932)Trooper Yorkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01978703998566102194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-41319915844999563952008-09-14T19:37:00.000-05:002008-09-14T19:37:00.000-05:00Ricpic, dude I asked where you were.Of course I sa...Ricpic, dude I asked where you were.<BR/>Of course I saw your poem. You are the poet laureate of Althouse.<BR/><BR/>I was holding the poetry corner down all by myself. It's not so easy to cut and paste ya know. My specialty is quasi-pornographic insanity.Trooper Yorkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01978703998566102194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-57048702459688208342008-09-14T19:34:00.000-05:002008-09-14T19:34:00.000-05:00This comment has been removed by the author.Trooper Yorkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01978703998566102194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-48772244949612358472008-09-14T19:31:00.000-05:002008-09-14T19:31:00.000-05:00[Still chuckling at Pogo's comment][Still chuckling at Pogo's comment]Simonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10065798213115341398noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-47071448461521135462008-09-14T19:18:00.000-05:002008-09-14T19:18:00.000-05:00I wish I had a Mark Cross pen. Then I'd be happy.H...I wish I had a Mark Cross pen. Then I'd be happy.<BR/><BR/><BR/>Hey, Troop! I responded to your James Wright poem with a-not-bad-if-I-do-say-so-myself-and-I-do counterpoem. Whatsamatta, I don't rate a mention?!ricpichttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01321511130788764861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-88969324906053862242008-09-14T19:11:00.000-05:002008-09-14T19:11:00.000-05:00The chickens have escaped The chickens restless...The chickens have escaped <BR/> <BR/>The chickens restless<BR/>their cage looms high<BR/>so they built a ladder<BR/>to reach the sky<BR/><BR/>The car dismantled<BR/>the engine dead<BR/>the farmer angry <BR/>demands their heads<BR/><BR/>He calls for the jump leads<BR/>'The chickens escaped'<BR/>but alas his cry<BR/>came far too late<BR/><BR/>They ran from oppression<BR/>and hid in a tree<BR/>now the search is over<BR/>the chickens roam free<BR/><BR/>Ivan BellewTrooper Yorkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01978703998566102194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-79201964121203465462008-09-14T19:08:00.000-05:002008-09-14T19:08:00.000-05:00It's pretty interesting that I posted 30 poems in ...It's pretty interesting that I posted 30 poems in the last two days and only one of them elicited any comments.<BR/><BR/>Good show RH.Trooper Yorkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01978703998566102194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-17419633616499806132008-09-14T18:43:00.000-05:002008-09-14T18:43:00.000-05:00Maxine, and her delicate complexion, never sees th...Maxine, and her delicate complexion, never sees the light of day.<BR/><BR/>She spends her time in her all-electric home admiring her Mark Cross pens.Chethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05619718632534827348noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-62880042125868707432008-09-14T18:41:00.000-05:002008-09-14T18:41:00.000-05:00Blonds don't belong in the sun, as the fair-skinne...Blonds don't belong in the sun, as the fair-skinned Althouses continue to destroy their complexions.<BR/><BR/>Too much sun exposure, and boredom, does not a memorable vacation make.Mrs. Lillian Forklisshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14735362072974163642noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-25320683153016320002008-09-14T18:36:00.000-05:002008-09-14T18:36:00.000-05:00I have wasted my life."I have wasted my life," sai...<I>I have wasted my life.</I><BR/><BR/>"I have wasted my life," said the poet in the hammock,<BR/>Because what? because beauty abounds?<BR/><BR/>Let me tell you mister poet, it matters not to beauty --<BR/>Your agony that beauty freely bounds.<BR/><BR/>So get over yourself, get back to your word-crabbed duty,<BR/>Knowing full well catching beauty's out of bounds.ricpichttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01321511130788764861noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-25870096127802243662008-09-14T18:21:00.000-05:002008-09-14T18:21:00.000-05:00BTW, Anne, do you know, by any chance, if the Miam...BTW, Anne, do you know, by any chance, if the Miami Dolphins left their team defense under your hammock?<BR/><BR/>I mean....worse than pathetic. The Cardinals feasted on them today.section9https://www.blogger.com/profile/08956773307014115891noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-25700952918688329002008-09-14T18:19:00.000-05:002008-09-14T18:19:00.000-05:00Ann, do you do any work? Or do you just laze aroun...Ann, do you do <I>any</I> work? Or do you just laze around in the hammock and blog all day?<BR/><BR/>Damn good lookin' woman, if I do say so myself, btw!section9https://www.blogger.com/profile/08956773307014115891noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-46932278623806945212008-09-14T17:29:00.000-05:002008-09-14T17:29:00.000-05:00re the Frisbee hurricane dog - That was almost as ...re the Frisbee hurricane dog - That was almost as much fun as watching my TN Titans in Cincy today, in the Ike wind, beating the Bengals to a pulp.<BR/><BR/>With their backup quarterback.<BR/><BR/>But back to Ann.<BR/><BR/>Girl! You <B>need</B> to get down south more, is all I gots ta say...Will Catehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01697259400752147065noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-47786281598367070852008-09-14T16:34:00.000-05:002008-09-14T16:34:00.000-05:00Trooper--you are an insolent young pup--Johnny U a...Trooper--you are an insolent young pup--Johnny U and the colts---makes those turkeys you call world champions look like losers--Like to see your Giants go one platoon.. Get over it dude, one platoon football ruled.Roger J.https://www.blogger.com/profile/12639676792043324100noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-86696682054692620592008-09-14T16:31:00.001-05:002008-09-14T16:31:00.001-05:00This comment has been removed by the author.ambahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12042450225428891273noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-71200228102048991682008-09-14T16:31:00.000-05:002008-09-14T16:31:00.000-05:00What's with the toe fetish??What's with the toe fetish??ambahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12042450225428891273noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-90979377756164891712008-09-14T15:43:00.000-05:002008-09-14T15:43:00.000-05:00hard to type with one handTry with 2 hands:in july...<I>hard to type with one hand</I><BR/><BR/>Try with 2 hands:<BR/><BR/><I>in july, oh my killjoy johnny, i'll look in upon my jumpy polo pony up in hilly honolulu</I>rhhardinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06901742898653890646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-85995814066325877472008-09-14T15:20:00.001-05:002008-09-14T15:20:00.001-05:00Thats WE ARE THE CHAMPIONSIt's hard to type with o...Thats <BR/><BR/>WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS<BR/><BR/>It's hard to type with one hand.Trooper Yorkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01978703998566102194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-73446321148868223532008-09-14T15:20:00.000-05:002008-09-14T15:20:00.000-05:00Damn straight Baby. WE AEE THE CHAMPIONSNothing is...Damn straight Baby. <BR/><BR/>WE AEE THE CHAMPIONS<BR/><BR/>Nothing is sweeter than defensive touchdowns.<BR/><BR/>Well except for the occasional toe.<BR/><BR/>Did I tell you lately that the Giants won the Super Bowl?Trooper Yorkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01978703998566102194noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-55396246519130458192008-09-14T15:17:00.000-05:002008-09-14T15:17:00.000-05:00"Vicy, you really don't understand. He already has..."Vicy, you really don't understand. He already has a hold of himself. Jeeez."<BR/><BR/>Not unlike Trooper when the NY Giants are frolicking on the big screen whilst wearing very tight-fitting pantalones.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6329595.post-1585472652815786642008-09-14T15:12:00.000-05:002008-09-14T15:12:00.000-05:00Rand famously had her acolytes, who hung on her ev...<I>Rand famously had her acolytes, who hung on her every Russian-accented word from free markets to Charlie's Angels.</I><BR/><BR/>Shortly afterward, it became known that Rothbard's wife, Joey, was a devout Protestant, a practicing Christian who actually believed that faith and altruism had a positive moral value. When the last tremors caused by this revelation finally faded away, a pall of silence fell over the living room. There was a Christian in the house. Not a renegade Christian who acknowleged the sins of her past and was ready to make amends for them. Not an apostate Christian who had forever forsaken the principles to which she formerly adhered. But a real, live, breathing Protestant who admitted belief in the existence of a Supreme Being! A heretic such as this was occupying the armchair in Ayn Rand's living room. And was married to one of Rand's most gifted protigis, no less, who now sat beside her with a look of villainous unconcern on his face.<BR/><BR/>Well, if Murray Rothbard's wife was a Christian there could only be one logical explanation of it: she had obviously never read Ayn Rand's proof that a Supreme Being does not, did not, will not, and could not exist. Ever.<BR/><BR/>Branden hustled her into an adjoining room and sat her down at a desk with a handful of Rand's anti-God essays. Joey, relieved to be out of earshot of all this talk of second-handers and floating concepts, pored over the pamphlets while the meeting continued in the other room. When she completed her assignment and returned to the gathering, the drone of conversation suddenly stopped and she found herself skewered by some twenty pairs of drilling eyes.<BR/><BR/>Branden took the initiative. ``Well?''<BR/><BR/>``I found it all very interesting, Nathan.''<BR/><BR/>``She found it very interesting,'' Branden repeated the information to the others at no extra charge. ``Anything elze?''<BR/><BR/>``The arguments are very good, but I'm still not an atheist if that's what you're getting at.''<BR/><BR/>Rand decided to take over. This was unquestionably a matter that demanded her personal intervention. ``You haf read ze proofs?''<BR/><BR/>``They're all very good and throught-provoking, Ayn. But you don't shakes a lifetime of religious faith with a few articles. I'll have to think about it for a while.''<BR/><BR/>``You haf read ze proofs and you ztill inzist on wallowing in your mindless myztizizm? Faith is irrational which means ...''<BR/><BR/>``Which means zat faith is immoral,'' said Branden.<BR/><BR/>``Which means it is anti-life,'' said Peikoff.<BR/><BR/>``Which means it is anti-man,'' said Hessen.<BR/><BR/>``Which means it is anti...anti...'' said Barbara Branden, searching for a suitable phrase.<BR/><BR/>``Enof!'' said Rand, clapping her hands. ``Zere has been enoff zmall talk for vun night. Do you haf anymore questions to ask me?''<BR/><BR/>This was the signal that the meeting was adjourned for the night. No. No one had any questions. Ayn was getting a headache. It was time for everyone to go home.<BR/><BR/>_It Usually Begins with Ayn Rand_ Jerome Tuccille p.22-23rhhardinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06901742898653890646noreply@blogger.com