GUNFIGHT Anyone?
My, my, my. Such fever. One feels one ought to counsel bed rest and aspirin, instead of contributing to incitement to violence.I have such gunfight fever that I had to see if AH'ers would get the gun out of their pants. Apparently they are too afraid to show their pistols. Pussies! Which poets have some pistol whipping to get out of their system?
Oh dear. I see that during the laborious construction of my witless challenge, some enterprising Northerner has blustered her way into the argument.
Silly man... When I hear draw I begin to pen a cursive line drawn across the page... I have a pair of cheeks you can whack...
Well, yes. By definition.
Sorry.
Lauren is pussy whipped already and out of a computer (he's using my old one - all the letters rubbed off and sticky keys to boot). Send your sympathies!Maybe someone will go for it if you or Lauren (or both of you) agree to be in the fight.
Oooo, ONE brave soul!
Will Gilbert of Grape suffice?My, my, my. Such fever. One feels one ought to counsel bed rest and aspirin, instead of contributing to incitement to violence.
I would much prefer that we use the less coarse term duel for this competition. "Gunfight" seems so plebeian, really. That image is of Americans in grubby dungarees brutally whacking each other in settlements without proper sanitation facilities. Even Imperial Rome, with her, as we now label them, "bloodthirsty" Games, had running water in the loo, you know.
Piff.
So. Shall we say, oh, caudate sonnets at forty paces? Seconds, observers, some physician who can staunch the flow of fatally dead metaphors leaking onto the manicured lawn of poetry from a direct hit? Shall we agree that the proper coup de grâce shall be an extempore alexandrine couplet?
Er, hem. So many details.
In the meantime, I, with, I hope, your spouse's permission, smack your glorious cheeks with the Gauntlet of Unstudied Prosody.
For some odd reason, I feel you should address me as "Gilbert." Please insure you do so.
Oh, so ... you and Champagne as contenders?
Yes, Gilbert of Grape vs. Champers! We can call it the 'Glove Slap 09' for this round.No, no, no, no. She is too fast for me and I have no deathwish. I'll wrestle you, though. And while we wait for my computer to be fixed, I'd love to see Tzara take on Champers.
No pre-mature ejaculation ... YET!
I'm sorry. That should be Gilbert (please pronounce this correctly--JEEL·bear) de Grappé, s'il vous plaît.Yes, Gilbert of Grape vs. Champers! We can call it the 'Glove Slap 09' for this round.
Si, m'sieu de Grappé, need I remind you that you are crushed beneath les petits piéds of vinyard maidens to make that glorious beverage I so proudly bear the name of? Come, let me feel you ooze between my toes. Après toi, ce serra un plaisir.I'm sorry. That should be Gilbert (please pronounce this correctly--JEEL·bear) de Grappé, s'il vous plaît.
Hey. If Champie wants to be slapped around by brilliant prosody, I'm your man, er, avatar.
Or, overconfident avatar, as the case may be.
I can probably do 11 to 2 MDT most days during the work week, being "creative" with my schedule. It depends on whether I am actually called upon to make my living or not.
Yes, without townsfolk cowering behind clapboard sided walls or rough pine log hitchin' rails our fencin' match would be nuthin'. So, split rails or pickets at noon on some future day when we get a coupla them judgin' folk?I can probably do 11 to 2 MDT most days during the work week, being "creative" with my schedule. It depends on whether I am actually called upon to make my living or not.
O, judges, where art thou?
