Verses of the Stipid Darf...

Sher2 · May 10, 2005

Page by page, line by line,
No line-by-line went onward,
All in the valley of Poz
Rode the dollar forward.
Forward, the Angry Authors Brigade!
"Try to sell us our own books!" they said:
Into the valley of Poz
Rode the eleven thousand.

Forward, the Angry Authors Brigade!
To a man they were dismay'd,
Not tho' the authors knew
AuthorSupport had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Yours not to reason why,
Ours but to do and die:
Into the valley of Poz
Rode the eleven thousand.

Echelon ladder to right of them,
High-priced aurora to left of them,
Short discounts in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with ink and swill,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Poz,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the eleven thousand.

Drained all their coffers bare,
Bloodied as they escaped the snare,
Usurping the special offer there,
Charged a usurious price, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged into a pig-in-a-poke
They'd bought 'til they were broke;
Poet and novelist
Reel'd from the spell-check stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then some gave in, but not
Not the eleven thousand.

Curlem to right of them,
Larry to left of them,
Moe-randa and Shemp behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with tales to tell,
While books and heros fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Poz
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of eleven thousand.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Angry Authors Brigade,
Noble eleven thousand.

MacAllister · May 10, 2005

Sherry! Tennyson--what a lovely choice!

DreamWeaver · May 10, 2005

Sher2 said:
They're ... warrior princesses!

Of course they're warrior princesses. Who else would have a prom dress named Excalibur?

Kris

DreamWeaver · May 10, 2005

Sher2 said:
Forward, the Angry Authors Brigade!
"Try to sell us our own books!" they said:
Into the valley of Poz
Rode the eleven thousand.

CHHHAAARRRGGGEEE!!!!!!

Kris

DreamWeaver · May 10, 2005

Sher2 said:
Echelon ladder to right of them,
High-priced aurora to left of them,
Short discounts in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd

Sher2 said:
Storm'd at with ink and swill

My favorite line. You rock!

Kris

Sher2 · May 10, 2005

MacAllister said:
Sherry! Tennyson--what a lovely choice!

Thanks, Mac. That one was just kind of sitting there begging to be perverted. I think I'll do him one more time tonight, then turn it over to the rest of my esteemed verse fracturers.

Sher2 · May 10, 2005

DreamWeaver said:
Of course they're warrior princesses. Who else would have a prom dress named Excalibur?

Kris

If anybody else does, I want to hear about it. They need to be on the Poz Tour. :ROFL:

Sher2 · May 10, 2005

DreamWeaver said:
My favorite line. You rock!

Kris

Awww, thank you. You, my friend, are the undisputed Shakespearean maven, though.

Honestly, this thread is just more fun than a human ought to be allowed to have. And it does keep me out of trouble. Sometimes. Nothing is failproof.

PixelFish · May 10, 2005

Oooo....I heart the Charge of the Light Brigade. (My own personal top poem for quick and diry riffs. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner.)

MacAllister · May 10, 2005

Pixel, I know...I had a *headsmack* moment myself. I can't believe I didn't think of it, either. <g>

Sher2 · May 10, 2005

0, my revulsion is like a black, black fit,
That's spewing at those loons.
0, my disdain is like a melody,
That's a dirge played out of tune.

As foul thou art, my ruthless printer,
Fouler are my wishes for you,
And I will hate thee still, summer or winter,
May all your victims sue.

When all the authors win, you crooks,
And the contracts melt wi' the sun!
Lo, I will loathe thee, thy ruthless rooks,
While the links of your scam still run.

And fare thee well in hell, you knaves!
And fare thee well awhile!
And we will come to taunt you there, even 10,000 miles,
11,000 authors' books shall be saved!

DreamWeaver · May 10, 2005

Sher2 said:
And fare thee well in hell, you knaves!
And fare thee well awhile!
And we will come to taunt you there, even 10,000 miles,
11,000 authors' books shall be saved!

I just love a good scam-Burnsing.

Sher2 · May 10, 2005

DreamWeaver said:
I just love a good scam-Burnsing.

Some scams deserve Burnsing to the ground.

Sher2 · May 10, 2005

One more. I'm really trying to wear myself out and get sleepy.

From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done
In tournament or tilt, the Ladies,
Who with their consorts were called The Tour,
Had passed into the nomad's life of travel,
Disdain and scorn, they had, leaving for the place called Poz.
InfoHelmet in a cubicle far away,
Look out, the Ladies ride.

`Nay,' said the consort; `for no such passion mine.
But the sweet vision of the Aurora Grail
Drove me from all vainglories, rivalries,
And earthly heats that spring and sparkle out
Among us in the jousts, while the Ladies watch
Who wins, who falls; and waste the spiritual strength
Within us, better offered up to to the Pink Talisman.'

And he to whom she told her sins, or what
Her all but utter guilelessness held for sin,
A man wellnigh her helpmeet, her peer,
Spake often with her of the Aurora Grail,
A legend handed down through five or six,
Sales of her lost and well mourned book,
From our Ladies' time upon the road to Poz,
Their pink tulle Excalibur in sight, and all men's hearts became
Clean for a season, surely they had thought
That now the Aurora Grail would come again;
But sin broke out. Ah, Christ, that it would come,
And smite the world of the wickedness of Poz!
"O consort!" asked the maiden, "might it come
To me by spell or chant?" "Nay," said he,
"I know not, for thy heart is pure as snow."
And so she wrote and messaged till the sun
Shone and the wind blew through her, and I thought
Her pink tulle, Excalibur, have risen and floated when I saw her.

DreamWeaver · May 10, 2005

Sher2 said:
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done
In tournament or tilt, the Ladies,
Who with their consorts were called The Tour

And when the bus pulled into the truckstop, a frantic voice was heard calling, "We're stopping! Do they have Moon Pies? Hey, where're my shoes? Hand those to me, I've got to get my tennies on!"

Kris

Sher2 · May 10, 2005

DreamWeaver said:
And when the bus pulled into the truckstop, a frantic voice was heard calling, "We're stopping! Do they have Moon Pies? Hey, where're my shoes? Hand those to me, I've got to get my tennies on!"

Kris

Well, I'm not sleepy yet -- something hath murdered sleep and it wasn't MacBeth -- so let's analyze this.

That was me hollering for the Moon Pies, by the way. Trust me, I don't need shoes when there are Moon Pies to be had.

What is the grail in this quest, this Crusade? The unholy kingdom itself? The head(s) of Stooge(s)? The bloodline of any unclean Stooge progeny?

What is the meaning of the pink tulle Excalibur? Talisman, symbolic of hope? Or is it a weapon? Surely, yards and yards of tulle could smother someone.

What role in this passion play does the bus take? Is it merely a means to an end, a mechanism for getting from point A to point B? Or does it possess magical powers of its own?

Could it be that they are ordinary men and women, wearing clothes from the local mall, riding around on a perfectly pedestrian bus because they have nothing better to do? Nah!

Come, my coach! Good night, ladies, good night. Sweet ladies, good night, good night.

Dawno · May 10, 2005

DreamWeaver said:
Listen, strange women lying in ponds distributing pink prom dresses is no basis for a system of echelon laddering. Supreme echelon power derives from a mandate from the posters, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. You can't expect to wield supreme Poz-busting power just 'cause some watery tart threw a pink prom dress at you!

Help, help, she's repressing me! She's repressing me!

Kris

This got me thinking about the following. Apologies to Python lovers everywhere and for it not being in verse.

Remember when you read it to think of John Cleese and Michael Palin's voices...
An Author enters a townhouse in Maryland.

Author: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.

(The owner does not respond.)

Author: 'Ello, Miss?
Owner: What do you mean "miss"?
Author: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
Owner: We're closin' for lunch.
Author: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this book what I
wrote a few months ago and what you published in this very place.
Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Fairy Gremlin Romantic Thriller...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?
Author: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. The grammar, that's what's
wrong with it! And the spelling and the punctuation – and look at this spline!
Owner: No, no, it’s uh,...it’s a revolutionary publishing technique.
Author: Look, matey, I know bad editin’ when I see it, and I'm looking
at some right now.
Owner: No no it's not bad editin’ , we’ve kept your unique voice! Remarkable editors here we’ve got! Lit’r’lly dozens of ‘em! All very supportive, write ‘cha a great email, too, they do! Comes from havin’ a good liberal arts education, an readin’ the Pennysaver, it does.
Author: The emails ain’t spelt right neither! It’s stone nonsense.
Owner: Nononono, no, no! It’s revolutionary publishing!
Author: All right then, if it’s so well edited and revolutionary, I'll just check the bookshelves at the local book shop next-door then!
(shouting out the door to the bookseller’s)
'Ello, Mister Bookseller! I've got a fresh $100 bill for you if
you can show me a copy of...(Owner tosses a book over Author’s head through the bookshop’s front door)
Owner: See, there’s a copy! Right there in the front!
Author: It wasn’t there ‘till you threw it in the door!
Owner: I never!!
Author: Yes, you did!
Owner: I never, never did anything...
Author: (yelling into the book shop) 'ELLO Readers!!!!!
Aside from that volume what clobbered the poor lady lyin’ there on the floor, has you ever seen a POZ book 'ere on the shelves!

(People peek up from behind the stacks and counters shaking their heads – a small voice from an unseen person says “no”.)

Author: Now that's why I call it a dead book. No one in there has ever seen a POZ book!
Owner: No, no.....No, they’s just stunned!
Author: STUNNED?!?
Owner: Yeah! They’s stunned by the genius of our marketing model, they’s all really more interested in ordering your book online and are visitin’ the nice bookseller for his free internet book orderin’ services.
Author: Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this.
That book is definitely not sellin’ a copy outside my friends and fambly, and when I wrote it not six months ago, you sent out a press release that it was a resonatin’ work that will fit your speciality like a bleedin’ glove.
Owner: Well, it’s probably a glitch at the distributor.
Author: Glitch at the distributor?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that? look, why does the manager at Barnes and Noble tell me they won’t stock my book because it’s non-returnable?
Owner: Don't take that tone with me! You must be wrong. I’m startin to think that your whole drama, this whole escapade is nonsensical. It isn't deserving of an explanation and I demand an apology!
Author: And another thing, I took the liberty of examining my royalty statement when I got home,
and I discovered the only reason that I even ‘ad royalties was because you sent postcards to all my relatives.

(pause)

Owner: Well, o'course we sent post cards to your relatives! If we hadn't sent them they would have missed out on the opportunity to own a rare first edition from a traditional publisher for which you did not have to pay a single dime!
Author: "Rare first edition”! You mean rare because the only way this book sees print is when I order in lots of 500 and sell them out of my trunk? And about those dimes...
Owner: No no! Your books available through brick and mortar bookstores from sea to shining sea! There will be customers, you just have to market your book harder. It’s pinin’ for your lack of commitment to sell it.
Author: It's not pinin'! It's passed on! This book is no more! It has ceased
to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! It's a stiff! Bereft
of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn't printed up author’s copies ther’d be no copies. The book is pushing up the daisies! it’s kicked the bucket, it’s shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run
down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!!
THIS IS AN EX-BOOK!! I will not market it for one more minute!

(pause)

Owner: Well, I'd better give you your rights back then.
(he takes a quick peek behind the counter)
Owner: Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh, we're right out of rights reversions.

Author: I see. I see, I get the picture.
Owner: I got an amendment that will make your contract non-exclusive, though.

(pause)

Author: (sweet as sugar) Pray, can I talk about my book with other publishers then?
Owner: Nnnnot really. See, right here, it’s a confidentiality clause.
Author: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY HELP THEN, IS IT?!!???!!?
Owner: Look, if you go to my partner's townhouse in Iceland, he'll give you back your rights.

Author: Iceland, eh? Very well.

The Author leaves.

Sher2 · May 11, 2005

Dawno said:
This got me thinking about the following. Apologies to Python lovers everywhere and for it not being in verse.

Remember when you read it to think of John Cleese and Michael Palin's voices...
An Author enters a townhouse in Maryland.

Author: 'Ello, I wish to register a complaint.

(The owner does not respond.)

Author: 'Ello, Miss?
Owner: What do you mean "miss"?
Author: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!
Owner: We're closin' for lunch.
Author: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this book what I
wrote a few months ago and what you published in this very place.
Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Fairy Gremlin Romantic Thriller...What's,uh...What's wrong with it?
Author: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. The grammar, that's what's
wrong with it! And the spelling and the punctuation – and look at this spline!
Owner: No, no, it’s uh,...it’s a revolutionary publishing technique.
Author: Look, matey, I know bad editin’ when I see it, and I'm looking
at some right now.
Owner: No no it's not bad editin’ , we’ve kept your unique voice! Remarkable editors here we’ve got! Lit’r’lly dozens of ‘em! All very supportive, write ‘cha a great email, too, they do! Comes from havin’ a good liberal arts education, an readin’ the Pennysaver, it does.
Author: The emails ain’t spelt right neither! It’s stone nonsense.

Beautiful! :Clap:

DreamWeaver · May 11, 2005

Dawno said:
Owner: Nononono, no, no! It’s revolutionary publishing!... Yeah! They’s stunned by the genius of our marketing model.
...
Author: It's not pinin'! It's passed on! This book is no more! It has ceased to be! It's expired and gone to meet its maker! It's a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn't printed up author’s copies ther’d be no copies. The book is pushing up the daisies! it’s kicked the bucket, it’s shuffled off 'is mortal coil, rung down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-BOOK!!

Dawno, that was SO PERFECT! It's really cruel of you to make me laugh so hard when I'm suffering from the cold & cough that's making the rounds. I've got to go chug a bottle of cough syrup to try to get my voice back now.

Still chuckling,
Kris

WhisperingBard · May 11, 2005

Owner: Nnnnot really. See, right here, it’s a confidentiality clause.
Author: WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY HELP THEN, IS IT?!!???!!?

Dawn, that was truly Pythonesque! Great job!

*Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!*
Shemp, someone's at the door for you.

Dawno · May 11, 2005

Aww, shucks. Glad it was entertaining

Sher2 · May 11, 2005

Of authors' First Disobedience, and the Fruit
Of that Forbidding Tree, whose mortal tast
Brought Ignorance into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of publication, till one greater Cause
Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,
Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top
Of of that redbrick townhouse, didst inspire
Those activists who first taught the chosen Seeds
Of dissent, In the Beginning how reason and law
Rose out of Chaos: Or if Frederick Hill
Delight thee more, and Shemp's Brook that flow'd
Fast by the Oracle of Dunces; I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventrous Song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th' revolt that mounts, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime.
And chiefly Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all that is literary th' upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first
Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread
Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss
And mad'st it implode: What in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That to the highth of this great Argument
I may assert th' Eternal Providence,
And expose the wayes of Poz to men.

So spake our Mother vellum, and the ink heard
Well pleas'd, but answer'd not; for now too nigh
Th' Arch Anti-Publisher stood, and from the other Hill
To thir fixt Station, all in bright array
The disenfranchised descended; on the ground
Gliding meteorous, as Ev'ning Mist
Ris'n from a River o're the marish glides,
And gathers ground fast at the Labourers heel
Homeward returning. High in Front advanc't,
The brandisht Sword of Reason before them blaz'd
Fierce as a Comet; which with torrid heat,
And vapour as the bestooged Air adust,
Began to parch that temperate Clime; whereat
In either hand the hastning Avenger caught
Our lingring regrets, and to th' Eastern Gate
Let them direct, and down Church Street as fast
To the subjected Plaine; then disappeer'd.
They looking back, all th' Eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,
Wav'd over by that flaming Brand, the Poz
With dreadful Faces throng'd and fierie Armes:
Som natural tears they drop'd, but wip'd them soon;
Their World was vanquished before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Lucifer their guide:
They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
Through the ruins of Poz took thir solitarie way.

DreamWeaver · May 11, 2005

Sher2 said:
They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
Through the ruins of Poz took thir solitarie way.

Poor authors! But at least, if they have Paradise lost, we have parodies found.

Kris

Sher2 · May 11, 2005

DreamWeaver said:
Poor authors! But at least, if they have Paradise lost, we have parodies found.

Kris

I fear my brain is rotting of parody. What next?!

DreamWeaver · May 12, 2005

Sher2 said:
I fear my brain is rotting of parody. What next?!

The Parody Brain Rot Gavotte, of course:

Every Shemp and Moe and Stooge is here,
Everyone who should be here is here,
What's more scary, even Mr Larry
Dances, on the New Release Opening Day.

On the board are all the authors waiting
For their books to be on their way
To a telling, maybe a best-selling
Showing on the New Release Opening Day.

Authors running, pages thumbing
Search the bookshelves, for the one written by themselves

Any second now, they will start to call: Hey!
Where is my book, why is it not
Shelved?...You dropped the ball!

What a frenzied moment that was,
When the authors learned stores won't stock PA.
What a saddening, positively maddening
Experience: the New Release Opening Day.

Kris

Verses of the Stipid Darf...

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Tired and worried.

Shakespearean Fool

Shakespearean Fool

Shakespearean Fool

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Tired and worried.

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Shakespearean Fool

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Shakespearean Fool

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Shiny!

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Shakespearean Fool

Wary...and weary

Shiny!

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Shakespearean Fool

Auroraless ExPAtriate

Shakespearean Fool