I said that seminars were once a place where a professor could stop spoon-feeding unwilling students in lectures and kick back and talk with those who know the subject and can feed him thoughts he hadn’t come up with.

Nowadays that doesn’t happen. Nowadays the student regurgitates what he’s told and he knows the professor will grade him on how much he agrees with said prof.

But when I kicked back and got nasty and crappy with THIS crowd, I caught it HARD.

Even Sweet Shari gave me grief about my, literally, gutter humor.

Mark reamed me good.

I NEED that.

I also got a good laugh out of Mark’s saying he was not going to lie down and worship me.

Mark, old buddy, I think you made THAT point pretty clear. You did it with what I like to refer to as a Whitaker level of subtlety.

Which is why nobody needs to say “I may be wrong” or “I’m not an expert” here.

I cleared your comment. If you were making a fool of yourself or whatever you’re worried about I wouldn’t clear it.

More important, BOB makes an ass of himself aplenty here.

BOB needs the same kind of treatment. I am ridiculously crabby and sometimes coarse. CALL me on it.

Thanks, Mark. Thanks, Shari.

I apologize.

But I will sin again.

I got crappy and Mark called me on it:

Regarding my bad-tempered remark below, Mark hit me TWICE:

I take offense at your statment. So you write an entry which is more proclamation than discussion and then you expect everyone (during a holiday weekend even)to throw themselves to the floor, genuflect like trained puppets, and squawk what a wun-der-full statment you have just made. Okay, fine. From now on when you’ve written one of your declarations of adoration entries I’m gonna’ write:

“Amen-hallelujah-aman! That Bubba Witt’ker fella is might-eee fine! Amen – hallelujah-amen!”

Comment by Mark — 5/30/2006 @ 3:29 pm | Edit This

Oh, and another thing. While you were penning that ever so enlightening and oh-so invigorating paragraph about sewers and what not, I was busy visiting the grave (w/my daughter) of a real pro-white hero — one Sam Hildebrand (Missouri Major of the army of the Confederacy, bushwhacker, peacelover until his family was murdered and his home burnt down by northerners, and all around 19th. century real-life bravehart).

But of course, forgive my divine father for I have sinned. Amen-hallelujah-amen! That Bubba Witt’ker fella is might-ee fine! Amen-hallelujah-amen to ad nausium…

Comment by Mark — 5/30/2006

MY REPLY:

Mark, I wish you would stop being so worshipful and shy and just tell me what you think.

Somebody mentioned that Eastwood is beneath contempt.

I was corresponding with somone in med school who spent his days being sick.

He had rotting corpse parts put in his hand on a regular basis.

I used to get sick thinking of formaldehyded frogs.

A medical professional can autopsy a three-day-old corpse, go to lunch and get back to work.

If a fellow worker said to him, “This thing really STINKS,” he would mark the commenter down for treatment.

If you are a sewer worker, knee deep in the slime, what would you do it someone cried out, “I can’t BELIEVE it! Right over there there is a piece of **** floating in the water!”

I probably don’t really appreciate the outrage of Conspiracy Theorists because I have been knee deep in this sewer so LONG.

When Clint Eastwood took over on Wagon Train the first Heroie Negro was part of his ensemble.

His first major film, a semi-horror flop, featured his very black buddy with a blond girl who said, “I’ve got my MAN.”

Troy Donahue was always getting pictures taken dancing with his very black girlfriend.

Her Glorious Britannic Majesty Queen Elizabeth II had pictures taken showing her dancing with the new president of Ghana, whoever the hell he was.

I spent my entire career in that sewer.

So you finally figured out that what is floating down the river Her Majesty lives in is is a piece of ****.

That’s a good start.

But don’t announce it to me like it’s a new release.