"I am way too emotionally involved with these people..."

[Byron In Exile]

I'm trying to figure out how many threads

It was my birthday two days ago so shutup.

 

[Byron In Exile]

Slacker.

You would think that after a decade, some things would become evident.

Welcome to Lit...

 

[Saint Peter]

It was my birthday two days ago so shutup.

Old slacker.

 

[Byron In Exile]

Old slacker.

And a sissy because of poetry.

Well, then, Bob...

He was often mocked for what were seen as sycophantic odes to the king, most notably in Byron's long ironic dedication of Don Juan to Southey. In the poem Southey is dismissed as insolent, narrow and shabby. This was based both on Byron's disrespect for Southey's literary talent, and his disdain for what he perceived as Southey's hypocritical turn to conservative politics later in life.

In response, Southey attacked what he called the Satanic School among modern poets in the preface to his poem, A Vision of Judgement, written following the death of George III. While not referring to Byron by name, it was clearly directed at him, and Byron retaliated with The Vision of Judgment, a brilliant parody of Southey's poem.

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/21700/21700-h/images/juanTP.jpg

Bob Southey! You're a poet, poet laureate,
And representative of all the race.
Although 'tis true that you turned out a Tory at
Last, yours has lately been a common case.
And now my epic renegade, what are ye at
With all the lakers, in and out of place?
A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye
Like four and twenty blackbirds in a pye,

Which pye being opened they began to sing
(This old song and new simile holds good),
'A dainty dish to set before the King'
Or Regent, who admires such kind of food.
And Coleridge too has lately taken wing,
But like a hawk encumbered with his hood,
Explaining metaphysics to the nation.
I wish he would explain his explanation.

You, Bob, are rather insolent, you know,
At being disappointed in your wish
To supersede all warblers here below,
And be the only blackbird in the dish.
And then you overstrain yourself, or so,
And tumble downward like the flying fish
Gasping on deck, because you soar too high,
Bob, And fall for lack of moisture quite a dry Bob.

And Wordsworth in a rather long Excursion
(I think the quarto holds five hundred pages)
Has given a sample from the vasty version
Of his new system to perplex the sages.
'Tis poetry, at least by his assertion,
And may appear so when the Dog Star rages,
And he who understands it would be able
To add a story to the tower of Babel.

You gentlemen, by dint of long seclusion
From better company, have kept your own
At Keswick, and through still continued fusion
Of one another's minds at last have grown
To deem, as a most logical conclusion,
That poesy has wreaths for you alone.
There is a narrowness in such a notion,
Which makes me wish you'd change your lakes for ocean.

I would not imitate the petty thought,
Nor coin my self-love to so base a vice,
For all the glory your conversion brought,
Since gold alone should not have been its price.
You have your salary; was't for that you wrought?
And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise.
You're shabby fellows—true—but poets still
And duly seated on the immortal hill.

Your bays may hide the baldness of your brows,
Perhaps some virtuous blushes; let them go.
To you I envy neither fruit nor boughs,
And for the fame you would engross below,
The field is universal and allows
Scope to all such as feel the inherent glow.
Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe will try
'Gainst you the question with posterity.

For me, who, wandering with pedestrian Muses,
Contend not with you on the winged' steed,
I wish your fate may yield ye, when she chooses,
The fame you envy and the skill you need.
And recollect a poet nothing loses
In giving to his brethren their full meed
Of merit, and complaint of present days
Is not the certain path to future praise.

He that reserves his laurels for posterity
(Who does not often claim the bright reversion)
Has generally no great crop to spare it, he
Being only injured by his own assertion.
And although here and there some glorious rarity
Arise like Titan from the sea's immersion,
The major part of such appellants go
To—God knows where—for no one else can know.

If fallen in evil days on evil tongues,
Milton appealed to the avenger, Time,
If Time, the avenger, execrates his wrongs
And makes the word Miltonic mean sublime,
He deigned not to belie his soul in songs,
Nor turn his very talent to a crime.
He did not loathe the sire to laud the son,
But closed the tyrant-hater he begun.

Think'st thou, could he, the blind old man, arise
Like Samuel from the grave to freeze once more
The blood of monarchs with his prophecies,
Or be alive again—again all hoar
With time and trials, and those helpless eyes
And heartless daughters—worn and pale and poor,
Would he adore a sultan? He obey
The intellectual eunuch Castlereagh?

Cold-blooded, smooth-faced, placid miscreant!
Dabbling its sleek young hands in Erin's gore,
And thus for wider carnage taught to pant,
Transferred to gorge upon a sister shore,
The vulgarest tool that tyranny could want,
With just enough of talent and no more,
To lengthen fetters by another fixed
And offer poison long already mixed.

An orator of such set trash of phrase,
Ineffably, legitimately vile,
That even its grossest flatterers dare not praise,
Nor foes—all nations—condescend to smile.
Not even a sprightly blunder's spark can blaze
From that Ixion grindstone's ceaseless toil,
That turns and turns to give the world a notion
Of endless torments and perpetual motion.

A bungler even in its disgusting trade,
And botching, patching, leaving still behind
Something of which its masters are afraid,
States to be curbed and thoughts to be confined,
Conspiracy or congress to be made,
Cobbling at manacles for all mankind,
A tinkering slave-maker, who mends old chains,
With God and man's abhorrence for its gains.

If we may judge of matter by the mind,
Emasculated to the marrow, it
Hath but two objects, how to serve and bind,
Deeming the chain it wears even men may fit,
Eutropius of its many masters, blind
To worth as freedom, wisdom as to wit,
Fearless, because no feeling dwells in ice;
Its very courage stagnates to a vice.

Where shall I turn me not to view its bonds,
For I will never feel them. Italy,
Thy late reviving Roman soul desponds
Beneath the lie this state-thing breathed o'er thee.
Thy clanking chain and Erin's yet green wounds
Have voices, tongues to cry aloud for me.
Europe has slaves, allies, kings, armies still,
And Southey lives to sing them very ill.

Meantime, Sir Laureate, I proceed to dedicate
In honest simple verse this song to you.
And if in flattering strains I do not predicate,
'Tis that I still retain my buff and blue;
My politics as yet are all to educate.
Apostasy's so fashionable too,
To keep one creed's a task grown quite
Herculean Is it not so, my Tory, ultra-Julian?

 

[Saint Peter]

She said I ain't gonna fix you no more sausage
Biscuits and gravy on the side
You done said the wrong thing to me baby
And you can kiss big booty good-bye

She said I ain't gonna fix you no more queso
Or fix you nothing else that's chicken fried
Go on and find yourself another woman
And you can kiss big booty good-bye

Go on and find yourself a skinny woman
Something a little more your size
And don't come back to me a moaning
When she cuts you off of burgers and fries

She said I ain't gonna fix you no more chicken
And no more Momma's chocolate pies
And here's something heavy for you baby
You can kiss big booty good-bye

Go on and find yourself a skinny woman
Something a little more your size
And don't come back to me a moaning
When she cuts you off of burgers and fries

She said I ain't gonna fix you no more sausage
Biscuits and gravy on the side
You done said the wrong thing to me baby
And you can kiss big booty good-bye
And you can kiss big booty good-bye
And you can kiss big booty good-bye

 

[4est_4est_Gump]

Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
I got a girls, say she long and tall
She sleeps in the kitchen with her feets in the hall
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got'em for sale, yeah Hot tamales and they're red hot,
yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
She got two for a nickel, got four for a dime
Would sell you more, but they ain't none of mine
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got'em for sale, yes, yeah Hot tamales and they're red hot,
yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
I got a letter from a girl in the room
Now she got something good she got to bring home soon, now
Its hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got'em for sale, yeah Hot tamales and they're red hot,
yes she got em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got em for sale
(spoken) They're too hot boy!
The billy got back in a bumble bee nest
Ever since that he can't take his rest, yeah
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes you got'em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got'em for sale Hot tamales and they're red hot,
yes she got'em for sale
(spoken) Man don't mess around em hot tamales now
(spoken) Cause they too black bad, if you mess around em hot tamales
(spoken) I'm onna upset your backbone, put your kidneys to sleep
(spoken) I'll due to break away your liver and dare your heart to beat bout my
Hot tamales cause they red hot, yes they got em for sale, I mean
Yes, she got em for sale, yeah Hot tamales and they're red hot,
yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
You know grandma left and grandpa too
Well I wonder what in the world we chillun gon do now
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale, I mean
Yes she got'em for sale Hot tamales and they're red hot,
yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
Me and my babe bought a V-8 Ford
Well we wind that thing all on the runnin board, yes
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale, I mean
Yes she got'em for sale, yeah Hot tamales and they're red hot,
yes she got'em for sale
They're too hot boy!
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes, now she got em for sale
You know the monkey, now the baboon playin in the grass
Well the monkey stuck his finger in that old 'Good Gulf Gas', now
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale, I mean
Yes she got'em for sale, yeah Hot tamales and they're red hot,
yes she got'em for sale
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale
I got a girls, say she long and tall
Sleeps in the kitchen with her feets in the hall
Hot tamales and they're red hot, yes she got'em for sale, I mean
Yes she got'em for sale, yeah

 

[Byron In Exile]

Spam.

Neato-o.

Let's talk politics.

You all spam better there.

 

[Byron In Exile]

I heard Obama sucks.

Any truth to that?

Also, Colorado. What's that about?

 

[4est_4est_Gump]

You told me to shut up, but you didn't tell Robert to...


Hey hey mama said the way you move,
Gon' make you sweat, gon' make you groove.
Ah-ah child way you shake that thing,
Gon' make you burn, gon' make you sting.
Hey hey baby when you walk that way,
Watch your heartache drip, can't keep away.

Oh yeah, oh yeah, ah, ah, ahh.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, ah, ah, ahh.

I gotta roll, can't stand still,
Got a flaming heart, can't get my fill.
Eyes that shine burning red,
Dreams of you all through my head.

Ah-ah
Ah-ahh ah-ah
Ah-ah ah-ah
Ah-ah ahhh

Hey baby, whoa baby, pretty baby
Darling give it to me now. (?)
Hey baby, oh baby, pretty baby
Move the way you're doing now. (?)

Didn't take too long 'fore I found out,
What people mean by down and out.
Spent my money, took my car
Started telling her friends she gon' be a star.
I don't know, but I been told
A big-legged woman ain't got no soul.

Oh yeah, oh yeah, ah, ah, ahh.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, ah, ah, ahh.

All I ask for, all I pray
Steady rolling woman gonna come my way.
Need a woman gonna hold my hand
Won't tell me no lies
Make me a happy man.

Ah-ah
Ah-ahh ah-ah
Ah-ah ah-ah
Ah-ah ahhhhh

 

[Byron In Exile]

You guys are such jokes...

 

[Byron In Exile]

Talk about lonely guys...

 

[Saint Peter]

That is Willie, not spam!

 

[Byron In Exile]

Do either of you have anyone you can talk to about anything?

Srsly.

 

[Byron In Exile]

That is Willie, not spam!

I'm talking to you, friend-o.

 

[Saint Peter]

No. We trade insults with each other concerning the part of the country we each live in, or in some cases, were born in. We trash politics. We trash the trashy cheifs. Shit like that.

 

[Byron In Exile]

No. We trade insults with each other concerning the part of the country we each live in, or in some cases, were born in. We trash politics. We trash the trashy cheifs. Shit like that.

And so, your answer is no.

That's rather sad.

 

[Saint Peter]

Unlike you and I who trade insults our locations, politics, and why your raiders are ass.

 

[4est_4est_Gump]

You were talking to yourself when we got here.


Do you not see the sadness in that?

 

[Saint Peter]

And so, your answer is no.

That's rather sad.

Sad.

 

[Saint Peter]

You were talking to yourself when we got here.


Do you not see the sadness in that?

Sad.

 

[Mockingjay]

Sad.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MR6D7tL38U

 

[Byron In Exile]

Unlike you and I who trade insults our locations, politics, and why your raiders are ass.

The Raiders suck ass.

That's not a topic in dispute.

 

[Byron In Exile]

You were talking to yourself when we got here.

Do you not see the sadness in that?

And you were doing what...?

 

[4est_4est_Gump]

And you were doing what...?

Bouncing around different websites...

Eine Kleine Anarcho-Capitalism

If victory is indeed our given end, an end given to us by the requirements of justice, then we must strive to achieve that end as rapidly as we can.

But this means that libertarians must not adopt gradualism as part of their goal; they must wish to achieve liberty as early and as rapidly as possible. Otherwise, they would be ratifying the continuation of injustice. They must be “abolitionists.”

The objection is often raised that abolitionism is “unrealistic,” that liberty (or any other radical social goal) can be achieved only gradually. Whether or not this is true (and the existence of radical upheavals demonstrates that such is not always the case), this common charge gravely confuses the realm of principle with the realm of strategy ...

Murray N. Rothbard

http://mises.org/daily/6761/What-Libertarians-Should-Learn-From-the-Abolitionists

 

[Byron In Exile]

Sad.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MR6D7tL38U

Very cool.