You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Why are all of Grey DeLisle's VocalTwit clips of Azula's voice? I wanna hear Mandy! Or Frankie! Or, you know, some other character!
It's like if all of Tara Strong's VocalTwits were Twilight Spar--ok, bad example.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Well, it is better than The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, I'll give you that...
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
This remains the only Penny Arcade strip I've yet read that I actually find amusing, sadly I can't seem to find anymore with Ann in them (not that I've really looked, I haven't)
so ever since I watched Pulp Fiction again (and also Snatch) I've been contemplating the idea of writing with stories that seem separate but form a cohesive whole thanks to occasional connections here and there
problem is, I've got story ideas about
-a rock star who gets kicked out of his band and has to find a new way of life
-a gentleman thief who gets caught, and later recruited, by the police
-and a girl who goes colorblind, but can cure it by falling in love
so basically I'm wondering how the hell I'm gonna go about doing this besides putting the three of them in the same city (which also is where Stuck's located, natch)
A picnic is a pleasure excursion at which a meal is eaten outdoors (al fresco or en plein air), ideally taking place in a beautiful landscape such as a park, beside a lake or with an interesting view and possibly at a public event such as before an open air theatre performance, and usually in summer. Descriptions of picnics show that the idea of a meal that was jointly contributed and was enjoyed out-of-doors were essential to a picnic from the early 19th century.[1]
Picnics are often family-oriented but can also be an intimate occasion between two people or a large get-together such as company picnics and church picnics. It is also sometimes combined with a cookout, usually a form of barbecue; either grilling (griddling, gridironing, or charbroiling), braising (by combining a charbroil or gridiron grill with a broth-filled pot), baking, or a combination of all of the above.
On romantic and family picnics a picnic basket and a blanket (to sit or recline on) are usually brought along. Outdoor games or some other form of entertainment are common at large picnics.
Some picnics are a potluck, an entertainment at which each person contributed some dish to a common table for all to share. When the picnic is not also a cookout, the food eaten is rarely hot, instead taking the form of delisandwiches, finger food, fresh fruit, salad, cold meats and accompanied by chilled wine or champagne or soft drinks.
Towards the end of November, during a thaw, at nine o'clock one morning, a train on the Warsaw and Petersburg railway was approaching the latter city at full speed. The morning was so damp and misty that it was only with great difficulty that the day succeeded in breaking; and it was impossible to distinguish anything more than a few yards away from the carriage windows.
Some of the passengers by this particular train were returning from abroad; but the third-class carriages were the best filled, chiefly with insignificant persons of various occupations and degrees, picked up at the different stations nearer town. All of them seemed weary, and most of them had sleepy eyes and a shivering expression, while their complexions generally appeared to have taken on the colour of the fog outside.
When day dawned, two passengers in one of the third-class carriages found themselves opposite each other. Both were young fellows, both were rather poorly dressed, both had remarkable faces, and both were evidently anxious to start a conversation. If they had but known why, at this particular moment, they were both remarkable persons, they would undoubtedly have wondered at the strange chance which had set them down opposite to one another in a third-class carriage of the Warsaw Railway Company.
One of them was a young fellow of about twenty-seven, not tall, with black curling hair, and small, grey, fiery eyes. His nose was broad and flat, and he had high cheek bones; his thin lips were constantly compressed into an impudent, ironical--it might almost be called a malicious--smile; but his forehead was high and well formed, and atoned for a good deal of the ugliness of the lower part of his face. A special feature of this physiognomy was its death-like pallor, which gave to the whole man an indescribably emaciated appearance in spite of his hard look, and at the same time a sort of passionate and suffering expression which did not harmonize with his impudent, sarcastic smile and keen, self-satisfied bearing. He wore a large fur--or rather astrachan--overcoat, which had kept him warm all night, while his neighbour had been obliged to bear the full severity of a Russian November night entirely unprepared. His wide sleeveless mantle with a large cape to it--the sort of cloak one sees upon travellers during the winter months in Switzerland or North Italy--was by no means adapted to the long cold journey through Russia, from Eydkuhnen to St. Petersburg.
The wearer of this cloak was a young fellow, also of about twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age, slightly above the middle height, very fair, with a thin, pointed and very light coloured beard; his eyes were large and blue, and had an intent look about them, yet that heavy expression which some people affirm to be a peculiarity as well as evidence, of an epileptic subject. His face was decidedly a pleasant one for all that; refined, but quite colourless, except for the circumstance that at this moment it was blue with cold. He held a bundle made up of an old faded silk handkerchief that apparently contained all his travelling wardrobe, and wore thick shoes and gaiters, his whole appearance being very un-Russian.
His black-haired neighbour inspected these peculiarities, having nothing better to do, and at length remarked, with that rude enjoyment of the discomforts of others which the common classes so often show:
"Cold?"
"Very," said his neighbour, readily, "and this is a thaw, too. Fancy if it had been a hard frost! I never thought it would be so cold in the old country. I've grown quite out of the way of it."
"What, been abroad, I suppose?"
"Yes, straight from Switzerland."
"Wheugh! my goodness!" The black-haired young fellow whistled, and then laughed.
The conversation proceeded. The readiness of the fair-haired young man in the cloak to answer all his opposite neighbour's questions was surprising. He seemed to have no suspicion of any impertinence or inappropriateness in the fact of such questions being put to him. Replying to them, he made known to the inquirer that he certainly had been long absent from Russia, more than four years; that he had been sent abroad for his health; that he had suffered from some strange nervous malady--a kind of epilepsy, with convulsive spasms. His interlocutor burst out laughing several times at his answers; and more than ever, when to the question, "whether he had been cured?" the patient replied:
"No, they did not cure me."
"Hey! that's it! You stumped up your money for nothing, and we believe in those fellows, here!" remarked the black-haired individual, sarcastically.
"Gospel truth, sir, Gospel truth!" exclaimed another passenger, a shabbily dressed man of about forty, who looked like a clerk, and possessed a red nose and a very blotchy face. "Gospel truth! All they do is to get hold of our good Russian money free, gratis, and for nothing."
"Oh, but you're quite wrong in my particular instance," said the Swiss patient, quietly. "Of course I can't argue the matter, because I know only my own case; but my doctor gave me money--and he had very little--to pay my journey back, besides having kept me at his own expense, while there, for nearly two years."
"Why? Was there no one else to pay for you?" asked the black-haired one.
"No--Mr. Pavlicheff, who had been supporting me there, died a couple of years ago. I wrote to Mrs. General Epanchin at the time (she is a distant relative of mine), but she did not answer my letter. And so eventually I came back."
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagi- nation? Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unob tainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks! Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men! Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stun- ned governments! Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a canni- bal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb! Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose fac- tories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the cities! Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind! Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch! Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky! Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible mad houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs! They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pave- ments, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us! Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river! Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit! Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! De- spairs! Ten years' animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time! Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!
This is the first sentence of this story. This is the second sentence. This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This sentence is questioning the intrinsic value of the first two sentences. This sentence is to inform you, in case you haven't already realized it, that this is a self-referential story, that is, a story containing sentences that refer to their own structure and function. This is a sentence that provides an ending to the first paragraph.
This is the first sentence of a new paragraph in a self-referential story. This sentence is introducing you to the protagonist of the story, a young boy named Billy. This sentence is telling you that Billy is blond and blue-eyed and American and twelve years old and strangling his mother. This sentence comments on the awkward nature of the self- referential narrative form while recognizing the strange and playful detachment it affords the writer. As if illustrating the point made by the last sentence, this sentence reminds us, with no trace of facetiousness, that children are a precious gift from God and that the world is a better place when graced by the unique joys and delights they bring to it.
This sentence describes Billy's mother's bulging eyes and protruding tongue and makes reference to the unpleasant choking and gagging noises she's making. This sentence makes the observation that these are uncertain and difficult times, and that relationships, even seemingly deep-rooted and permanent ones, do have a tendency to break down.
Introduces, in this paragraph, the device of sentence fragments. A sentence fragment. Another. Good device. Will be used more later.
This is actually the last sentence of the story but has been placed here by mistake. This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself in his bed transformed into a gigantic insect. This sentence informs you that the preceding sentence is from another story entirely (a much better one, it must be noted) and has no place at all in this particular narrative. Despite claims of the preceding sentence, this sentence feels compelled to inform you that the story you are reading is in actuality "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka, and that the sentence referred to by the preceding sentence is the only sentence which does indeed belong in this story. This sentence overrides the preceding sentence by informing the reader (poor, confused wretch) that this piece of literature is actually the Declaration of Independence, but that the author, in a show of extreme negligence (if not malicious sabotage), has so far failed to include even one single sentence from that stirring document, although he has condescended to use a small sentence fragment, namely, "When in the course of human events", embedded in quotation marks near the end of a sentence. Showing a keen awareness of the boredom and downright hostility of the average reader with regard to the pointless conceptual games indulged in by the preceding sentences, this sentence returns us at last to the scenario of the story by asking the question, "Why is Billy strangling his mother?" This sentence attempts to shed some light on the question posed by the preceding sentence but fails. This sentence, however, succeeds, in that it suggests a possible incestuous relationship between Billy and his mother and alludes to the concomitant Freudian complications any astute reader will immediately envision. Incest. The unspeakable taboo. The universal prohibition. Incest. And notice the sentence fragments? Good literary device. Will be used more later.
This is the first sentence in a new paragraph. This is the last sentence in a new paragraph.
This sentence can serve as either the beginning of the paragraph or end, depending on its placement. This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This sentence raises a serious objection to the entire class of self-referential sentences that merely comment on their own function or placement within the story e.g., the preceding four sentences), on the grounds that they are monotonously predictable, unforgivably self- indulgent, and merely serve to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which at this point seems to concern strangulation and incest and who knows what other delightful topics. The purpose of this sentence is to point out that the preceding sentence, while not itself a member of the class of self-referential sentences it objects to, nevertheless also serves merely to distract the reader from the real subject of this story, which actually concerns Gregor Samsa's inexplicable transformation into a gigantic insect (despite the vociferous counterclaims of other well- meaning although misinformed sentences). This sentence can serve as either the beginning of the paragraph or end, depending on its placement.
This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. This is almost the title of the story, which is found only once in the story itself. This sentence regretfully states that up to this point the self-referential mode of narrative has had a paralyzing effect on the actual progress of the story itself -- that is, these sentences have been so concerned with analyzing themselves and their role in the story that they have failed by and large to perform their function as communicators of events and ideas that one hopes coalesce into a plot, character development, etc. -- in short, the very raisons d'etre of any respectable, hardworking sentence in the midst of a piece of compelling prose fiction. This sentence in addition points out the obvious analogy between the plight of these agonizingly self-aware sentences and similarly afflicted human beings, and it points out the analogous paralyzing effects wrought by excessive and tortured self- examination.
The purpose of this sentence (which can also serve as a paragraph) is to speculate that if the Declaration of Independence had been worded and structured as lackadaisically and incoherently as this story has been so far, there's no telling what kind of warped libertine society we'd be living in now or to what depths of decadence the inhabitants of this country might have sunk, even to the point of deranged and debased writers constructing irritatingly cumbersome and needlessly prolix sentences that sometimes possess the questionable if not downright undesirable quality of referring to themselves and they sometimes even become run-on sentences or exhibit other signs of inexcusably sloppy grammar like unneeded superfluous redundancies that almost certainly would have insidious effects on the lifestyle and morals of our impressionable youth, leading them to commit incest or even murder and maybe that's why Billy is strangling his mother, because of sentences just like this one, which have no discernible goals or perspicuous purpose and just end up anywhere, even in mid
Bizarre. A sentence fragment. Another fragment. Twelve years old. This is a sentence that. Fragmented. And strangling his mother. Sorry, sorry. Bizarre. This. More fragments. This is it. Fragments. The title of this story, which. Blond. Sorry, sorry. Fragment after frag- ment. Harder. This is a sentence that. Fragments. Damn good device.
The purpose of this sentence is threefold: (1) to apologize for the unfortunate and inexplicable lapse exhibited by the preceding paragraph; (2) to assure you, the reader, that it will not happen again; and (3) to reiterate the point that these are uncertain and difficult times and that aspects of language, even seemingly stable and deeply rooted ones such as syntax and meaning, do break down. This sentence adds nothing substantial to the sentiments of the preceding sentence but merely provides a concluding sentence to this paragraph, which otherwise might not have one.
This sentence, in a sudden and courageous burst of altruism, tries to abandon the self-referential mode but fails. This sentence tries again, but the attempt is doomed from the start.
This sentence, in a last-ditch attempt to infuse some iota of story line into this paralyzed prose piece, quickly alludes to Billy's frantic cover-up attempts, followed by a lyrical, touching, and beautifully written passage wherein Billy is reconciled with his father (thus resolving the subliminal Freudian conflicts obvious to any astute reader) and a final exciting police chase scene during which Billy is accidentally shot and killed by a panicky rookie policeman who is coincidentally named Billy. This sentence, although basically in complete sympathy with the laudable efforts of the preceding action-packed sentence, reminds the reader that such allusions to a story that doesn't, in fact, yet exist are no substitute for the real thing and therefore will not get the author (indolent goof-off that he is) off the proverbial hook.
The purpose. Of this paragraph. Is to apologize. For its gratuitous use. Of. Sentence fragments. Sorry.
The purpose of this sentence is to apologize for the pointless and silly adolescent games indulged in by the preceding two paragraphs, and to express regret on the part of us, the more mature sentences, that the entire tone of this story is such that it can't seem to communicate a simple, albeit sordid, scenario.
This sentence wishes to apologize for all the needless apologies found in this story (this one included), which, although placed here ostensibly for the benefit of the more vexed readers, merely delay in a maddeningly recursive way the continuation of the by-now nearly forgotten story line.
This sentence is bursting at the punctuation marks with news of the dire import of self-reference as applied to sentences, a practice that could prove to be a veritable Pandora's box of potential havoc, for if a sentence can refer or allude to itself, why not a lowly subordinate clause, perhaps this very clause? Or this sentence fragment? Or three words? Two words? One?
Perhaps it is appropriate that this sentence gently and with no trace of condescension reminds us that these are indeed difficult and uncertain times and that in general people just aren't nice enough to each other, and perhaps we, whether sentient human beings or sentient sentences, should just try harder. I mean, there is such a thing as free will, there has to be, and this sentence is proof of it! Neither this sentence nor you, the reader, is completely helpless in the face of all the pitiless forces at work in the universe. We should stand our ground, face facts, take Mother Nature by the throat and just try harder.
By the throat. Harder. Harder, harder.
Sorry.
This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself.
This is the last sentence of the story. This is the last sentence of the story. This is the last sentence of the story. This is.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Doctor Who reference in Pokemon B2W2? Headcanon accepted.
Lee I just watched that
and if I'm correct that's a parody of Apocalypse Now along with the Doors "The End" to spoof the shutdown of Jerry Lewis' never-released magnum opus "Send in the Clowns"
Forsythe: Yup, that's pretty much it. And I didn't know about the lost Jerry Lewis film until I found the Reference Guide in 1995...and promptly laughed myself hoarse. I kind of figured it was riffing on Heart of Darkness, though, since I read that in high school.
The following words and phrases may not be used in a cadence- Budding sexuality, necrophilia, I hate everyone in this formation and wish they were dead, sexual lubrication, black earth mother, all Marines are latent homosexuals, Tantric yoga, Gotterdammerung, Korean hooker, Eskimo Nell, we’ve all got jackboots now, slut puppy, or any references to squid.
Comments
Bleh. Coming down with a cold.
like a dungeon dragon!
like a dungeon dragon!
LIKE A DUNGEON DRAGON!
I AM ALADDIN
It's like if all of Tara Strong's VocalTwits were Twilight Spar--ok, bad example.
This remains the only Penny Arcade strip I've yet read that I actually find amusing, sadly I can't seem to find anymore with Ann in them (not that I've really looked, I haven't)
with their bodies touching each other
holding hands in the moonlight
there was silence between them
so profound was their love for each other
they needed no words to express it
and so they sat in silence on a park bench
with their bodies touching
holding hands in the moonlight
finally she spoke
"do you love me, john?" she asked
"you know i love you, darling" he replied
"i love you more than tongue can tell
you are the light of my life
my sun, moon, and stars
you are my everything
without you, i have no reason for being"
again, there was silence
as the two lovers sat on a park bench
their bodies touching
holding hands in the moonlight
once more, she spoke
"how much do you love me, john?" she asked
he answered, "how much do i love you?
count the stars in the sky
measure the waters of the oceans with a teaspoon
number the grains of sand on the seashore
impossible, you say?"
Glitching through the floor...that I have never done. Hm.
I AM JASMINE
I could take responsibility, make them better.
But everything that truly matters is out of my hands.
Tired of fighting pointlessly.
Man, the voice-overs make Birdo sound like some kind of overworked secretary. I guess that was his lifelong ambition.
I wish I could express myself clearly and simply, with Plain English, while still being poetic and thoughtful; but I'm no George Orwell.
I'm more of an Ayn Rand, and this displeases me.
second sentence. This is the title of this story, which is
also found several times in the story itself. This sentence
is questioning the intrinsic value of the first two sentences. This sentence is to
inform you, in case you haven't
already realized it, that this is a self-referential story,
that is, a story containing sentences that refer to their
own structure and function. This is a sentence that provides an ending to the first
paragraph.
This is the first sentence of a new paragraph in a
self-referential story. This sentence is introducing you to
the protagonist of the story, a young boy named Billy. This
sentence is telling you that Billy is blond and blue-eyed
and American and twelve years old and strangling his mother.
This sentence comments on the awkward nature of the self-
referential narrative form while recognizing the strange and
playful detachment it affords the writer. As if illustrating the point made by the last
sentence, this sentence reminds us, with no trace of facetiousness, that children are
a precious gift from God and that the world is a better place
when graced by the unique joys and delights they bring to
it.
This sentence describes Billy's mother's bulging eyes
and protruding tongue and makes reference to the unpleasant
choking and gagging noises she's making. This sentence
makes the observation that these are uncertain and difficult
times, and that relationships, even seemingly deep-rooted
and permanent ones, do have a tendency to break down.
Introduces, in this paragraph, the device of sentence
fragments. A sentence fragment. Another. Good device.
Will be used more later.
This is actually the last sentence of the story but has
been placed here by mistake. This is the title of this
story, which is also found several times in the story
itself. As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy
dreams he found himself in his bed transformed into a
gigantic insect. This sentence informs you that the preceding sentence is from
another story entirely (a much better one, it must be noted) and has no place at all
in this particular narrative. Despite claims of the preceding sentence, this
sentence feels compelled to inform you that the story you are reading is in actuality
"The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka, and that the sentence referred to by the
preceding sentence is the only sentence which does indeed
belong in this story. This sentence overrides the preceding
sentence by informing the reader (poor, confused wretch)
that this piece of literature is actually the Declaration of
Independence, but that the author, in a show of extreme
negligence (if not malicious sabotage), has so far failed to
include even one single sentence from
that stirring document, although he has condescended to use a small sentence
fragment, namely, "When in the course of human events",
embedded in quotation marks near the end of a sentence.
Showing a keen awareness of the boredom and downright hostility of the average
reader with regard to the pointless
conceptual games indulged in by the preceding sentences,
this sentence returns us at last to the scenario of the
story by asking the question, "Why is Billy strangling his
mother?" This sentence attempts to shed some light on the
question posed by the preceding sentence but fails. This
sentence, however, succeeds, in that it suggests a possible
incestuous relationship between Billy and his mother and
alludes to the concomitant Freudian complications any astute
reader will immediately envision. Incest. The unspeakable
taboo. The universal prohibition. Incest. And notice the
sentence fragments? Good literary device. Will be used
more later.
This is the first sentence in a new paragraph. This is
the last sentence in a new paragraph.
This sentence can serve as either the beginning of the
paragraph or end, depending on its placement. This is the
title of this story, which is also found several times in
the story itself. This sentence raises a serious objection
to the entire class of self-referential sentences that
merely comment on their own function or placement within the
story e.g., the preceding four sentences), on the grounds
that they are monotonously predictable, unforgivably self-
indulgent, and merely serve to distract the reader from the
real subject of this story, which at this point seems to
concern strangulation and incest and who knows what other
delightful topics. The purpose of this sentence is to point
out that the preceding sentence, while not itself a member
of the class of self-referential sentences it objects to,
nevertheless also serves merely to distract the reader from
the real subject of this story, which actually concerns Gregor Samsa's inexplicable
transformation into a gigantic
insect (despite the vociferous counterclaims of other well-
meaning although misinformed sentences). This sentence can
serve as either the beginning of the paragraph or end,
depending on its placement.
This is the title of this story, which is also found
several times in the story itself. This is almost the title
of the story, which is found only once in the story itself.
This sentence regretfully states that up to this point the
self-referential mode of narrative has had a paralyzing
effect on the actual progress of the story itself -- that
is, these sentences have been so concerned with analyzing
themselves and their role in the story that they have failed
by and large to perform their function as communicators of
events and ideas that one hopes coalesce into a plot, character development, etc. -- in
short, the very raisons d'etre of any respectable, hardworking sentence in
the midst of a piece of compelling prose fiction. This sentence in addition points
out the obvious analogy between the plight of
these agonizingly self-aware sentences and similarly
afflicted human beings, and it points out the analogous
paralyzing effects wrought by excessive and tortured self-
examination.
The purpose of this sentence (which can also serve as a
paragraph) is to speculate that if the Declaration of
Independence had been worded and structured as lackadaisically and incoherently
as this story has been so far,
there's no telling what kind of warped libertine society
we'd be living in now or to what depths of decadence the
inhabitants of this country might have sunk, even to the
point of deranged and debased writers constructing irritatingly cumbersome and
needlessly prolix sentences that sometimes possess the questionable if not
downright undesirable quality of referring to themselves and they sometimes even
become run-on sentences or exhibit other signs of inexcusably sloppy grammar
like unneeded superfluous redundancies that almost certainly would have
insidious effects on the lifestyle and morals of our impressionable youth, leading
them to commit incest or even murder and maybe that's why
Billy is strangling his mother, because of sentences just like this one, which
have no discernible goals or perspicuous purpose and just end up anywhere, even in
mid
Bizarre. A sentence fragment. Another fragment.
Twelve years old. This is a sentence that. Fragmented.
And strangling his mother. Sorry, sorry. Bizarre. This.
More fragments. This is it. Fragments. The title of this
story, which. Blond. Sorry, sorry. Fragment after frag-
ment. Harder. This is a sentence that. Fragments. Damn
good device.
The purpose of this sentence is threefold: (1) to apologize for the unfortunate and
inexplicable lapse exhibited by the preceding paragraph; (2) to assure you, the
reader, that it will not happen again; and (3) to reiterate the
point that these are uncertain and difficult times and that
aspects of language, even seemingly stable and deeply rooted
ones such as syntax and meaning, do break down. This sentence adds nothing
substantial to the sentiments of the preceding sentence but merely provides a
concluding sentence to this paragraph, which otherwise might not have one.
This sentence, in a sudden and courageous burst of
altruism, tries to abandon the self-referential mode but
fails. This sentence tries again, but the attempt is doomed
from the start.
This sentence, in a last-ditch attempt to infuse some
iota of story line into this paralyzed prose piece, quickly
alludes to Billy's frantic cover-up attempts, followed by a
lyrical, touching, and beautifully written passage wherein
Billy is reconciled with his father (thus resolving the subliminal Freudian conflicts
obvious to any astute reader) and a final exciting police chase scene during which
Billy is accidentally shot and killed by a panicky rookie policeman
who is coincidentally named Billy. This sentence, although
basically in complete sympathy with the laudable efforts of
the preceding action-packed sentence, reminds the reader
that such allusions to a story that doesn't, in fact, yet
exist are no substitute for the real thing and therefore
will not get the author (indolent goof-off that he is) off
the proverbial hook.
Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.
Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph. Paragraph.
Paragraph. Paragraph.
The purpose. Of this paragraph. Is to apologize. For
its gratuitous use. Of. Sentence fragments. Sorry.
The purpose of this sentence is to apologize for the
pointless and silly adolescent games indulged in by the
preceding two paragraphs, and to express regret on the part
of us, the more mature sentences, that the entire tone of
this story is such that it can't seem to communicate a simple, albeit sordid, scenario.
This sentence wishes to apologize for all the needless
apologies found in this story (this one included), which,
although placed here ostensibly for the benefit of the more
vexed readers, merely delay in a maddeningly recursive way
the continuation of the by-now nearly forgotten story line.
This sentence is bursting at the punctuation marks with
news of the dire import of self-reference as applied to sentences, a practice that
could prove to be a veritable Pandora's box of potential havoc, for if a sentence
can refer or allude to itself, why not a lowly subordinate
clause, perhaps this very clause? Or
this sentence fragment? Or three words? Two words? One?
Perhaps it is appropriate that this sentence gently and
with no trace of condescension reminds us that these are
indeed difficult and uncertain times and that in general
people just aren't nice enough to each other, and perhaps
we, whether sentient human beings or sentient sentences,
should just try harder. I mean, there is such a
thing as free will, there has to be, and this sentence is proof of
it! Neither this sentence nor you, the reader, is completely helpless in the face of
all the pitiless forces at work in the universe. We should stand our ground, face
facts, take Mother Nature by the throat and just try harder.
By the throat. Harder. Harder, harder.
Sorry.
This is the title of this story, which is also found
several times in the story itself.
This is the last sentence of the story. This is the
last sentence of the story. This is the last sentence of
the story. This is.
Sorry.
*big hug*
(*"It's bigger on the inside" joke*)
God, nothing beats the sound of a Drill Instructor singing cadence