The Cattywampus Disciplinary: Egregious Moderator Abuse
Moderators: Moderators Emeritus, Moderators
- Betty Felon
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- Liesbeth
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the tragic thing about the burdens of our noble moderators, of course, is that the more we post, the more they must read.
only a bitter and corrupt soul (A)
like brittle timber, never gives (B)
to moderators the smallest notion (C)
of the pain we cause with our boeotian (C)
jibes and jests, and idle missives, (B)
filling screens with folderol.... (A)
only a bitter and corrupt soul (A)
like brittle timber, never gives (B)
to moderators the smallest notion (C)
of the pain we cause with our boeotian (C)
jibes and jests, and idle missives, (B)
filling screens with folderol.... (A)
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Some of us drink, because we're not poets...
Last edited by Harvey Winters on Wed Sep 22, 2004 12:27 pm, edited 2 times in total.
- Betty Felon
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Oh many a peer of England Brews
Livelier liquor than the muse ,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.
Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter pot
To see the world as the world's not.
And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past:
The mischief is that 'twill not last.
He is so kind, upon sober reflection. So very kind, and so very misunderstood.
Livelier liquor than the muse ,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God's ways to man.
Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter pot
To see the world as the world's not.
And faith, 'tis pleasant till 'tis past:
The mischief is that 'twill not last.
He is so kind, upon sober reflection. So very kind, and so very misunderstood.
Re: The Cattywampus Disciplinary: Egregious Moderator Abuse
grant wrote:There has been a notable air of laxity hanging over this message board of late; a vile, insidious stench of lackadaisical "do-as-we-may" that is serving no one terribly well and only a few in even the slightest measure.
from Middle[REDACTED] by Jeffrey Eugenides:
According to an ancient Chinese legend, one day in the year 2640 B.C., Princess Si Ling-chi was sitting under a mulberry tree when a silkworm cocoon fell into her teacup. When she tried to remove it, she noticed that the cocoon had begun to unravel in the hot liquid. She handed the loose end to her maidservant and told her to walk. The servant went out of the princess's chamber, and into the palace courtyard, and through the palace gates, and out of the Forbidden City, and into the countryside a half mile before the cocoon ran out. (In the West, this legend would slowly mutate over three millennia, until it became the story of a physicist and an apple. Either way, the meanings are the same: great discoveries, whether of silk or of gravity, are always windfalls. They happen to people loafing under trees.)
- Betty Felon
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- BladeRunner
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BladeRunner wrote:My ears are stoppered, and a hollow clanking fills my head.
These noises (have they meaning?) fill my heart with dread.
As though unknown multitudes somewhere around me teem
And decide upon my fate, as though I was but their dream....
My brains clang within my skull as the hammer of an empty bell.
What noise is this my striking made?
- Unremarkable
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- grant
- wears the boots
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Unremarkable wrote:I just have to say that, sir, your power has gone unused for far too long! High time we "raised the bar," as Shakespeare once... no, wait, that wasn't the immortal Bard, now was it. At any rate, OFF WITH OUR HEADS!!!! VIVA LA MODERATION!!!
Yes, quite. Moderation in all things, and excess only in moderation!
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