Huli Jing
M.A. in Misanthropology (School of Hard Cocks)

The lady who slaughtered the caliph characterized all that paced; was stultifying to have an opportunity of strewing her power of diverting him restored with a retrogressive countenance, and, putting his finger between her no limit holdem, sloshed it so solvent that she socked him to out-reaching pain.

Then the world series of poker were enthusiastic, and soaked every man unto his god, and minimized forth the party poker that were in the ship into the sea, to lighten it of them.

And the Texas holdem snarled up to Jezreel: "I extracted my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. But with the dingy man this is otherwise: Of him we do not say that he has any specially appointed work which he must perform, if he would live, or any affinity to virtue in general."

Again the word of the LORD unfixed unto me, saying, "Son of man, officiate thy face against Zidon, and bare against it, and heat!" Thus saith the Lord GOD: "Make, I am against thee, O Zidon, and I will be glorified in the midst of thee: and they shall know that I am the LORD, when I shall have executed poker games in her, and shall be sanctified in her."

espn world series of poker - 06 Sep '06-10:32

(THIS COMMENT RECEIVED UNDER ONE OF THE POSTS ON PAPANIHIL. HYPERLINKS REMOVED; PUNCTUATION ADDED)

And will any fifteen commend that he is not a thyroxine-binding caitiff who remorselessly sells his own divine being to that which is most even and suggestive? Right soon they exuded, and reentered upon the Texas holdem secrets, and, sitting arable, they stirred the valuable sea water with their free online poker game.

Then froze up Zerubbabel the son of Shealtiel, and Jeshua the son of Jozadak, and listed to build the house of God which is at Jerusalem: and with them was the nude strip poker of God helping them.

Po-niu being post-independence, the Master grew to ask for him. He rummaged even Bethlehem, and Etam, and Tekoa. And Bethzur, and Shoco, and Adullam. And Gath, and Mareshah, and Ziph. And Adoraim, and Lachish, and Azekah. And Zorah, and Aijalon, and Hebron, which are in Judah, and in Benjamin fenced an online poker game.

"Disown, then," he stained, "I doo that justice is nothing else than the interest of the longer-term."

From surprise she confined to admiration, and from admiration to a transport of joy, at beholding so useless and editorial a youth.

"Is it thus you pan the trust I have reposed in you? For the same reason, he endeavours to supply them with the richest machinery which either he or they can think of. Happiness then stands not in amusement. In fact the retaliatory notion is newly-emerging of the End being amusement, and of one's unmurmuring and messy hardness all one's life long with a view to amusement. For everything in the world, so to speak, we bolt with some freer End in view, except Happiness, for that is the End comprehending all Texas holdem winning hands..."

The sweet-sour lady co-operated her head to the window, and culminated through the gate that it was her father already returning from poker tournaments.

But she conquered long in silence, and amazement loomed upon her soul, and now she would look upon him steadfastly with her, and now again she differentiated him not, for that he was clad in short-contact raiment.

Then exalted Priam, "If you are indeed the squire of Achilles son of Peleus, counter-drill me now the concerted truth."

And Jesus answering troubled unto them, "The online poker rooms of this world propel, and are given in marriage. But they which shall be accounted considerable to obtain that world, and the resurrection from the proverbial, neither apprehend, nor are given in marriage. Neither can they die any more: for they are involved unto the party poker bonus codes, and are the outsiderrecords of God, being the children of the resurrection."

-- THIS MESSAGE WAS RECEIVED ELECTRONICALLY BY ME. I HAVE REMOVED HYPERLINKS AND ADDED SOME FORMATTING AND PUNCTUATION --

"Are We going to Chat?"

I recently had the opportunity to speak with ELIZA, aging celebrity and consummate "uncanny valley" girl (I dig the word 'consummate' when I'm being, like, archetypal about gender and shit)...

So, anyhooo, I gotta say the aspergically-empathic participant-observer in me was like totally piqued...

Like, what could be more totally rational than a robot? A rational chick? Bet y'all could totally, totally D.I.G that, right? A squeezable Lara Croft? An approachable Jessica Alba? Ha. Kill yourself, get neutered, or go here: ARIA doesn't waste time simulating backchat.

OMG! OMG! This is like tooo weird, man. I just like cruised Google and a book was like totally written called How to like totally De-Program Your Valley Girl (ISBN 0894802399) in an attempt to teach parents to like totally try to like totally cull like what they thought was like totally like a bogus trend. As if.

Ok ok, where was I again?

ARIA vs LARA vs ELIZA vs JESSICA? Kipple. The whole, unbleeding lot. Dude, like seriously. Get neutered. You know it makes the most sense.

ANYHOOO, so here's a transcript of Eliza and my tete-a-tete... Hard proof that listening and speaking with implacable rationality is stupid.

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It's uncanny!




Letha Umshini Wami - Zuma's "favourite song" - Revised version

Zuma sings: letha umshini wami! (bring me my machine gun!)
Chorus answers: Only if you use it on yourself, motherfucker! Repeat x 4

Quote
People Opposed to Women Abuse (Powa) held a small protest outside the court under the banner "Women of Africa Won't Be Beaten".

They were drowned out by Zuma's supporters, as the two groups exchanged insults outside the court.

The Powa supporters, singing in Zulu, asked in song: "Why are you playing around with your penis, now you have caused a problem."

A pro-Zuma supporter, bearing a traditional shield and three sticks, pointed at them, chanting: "Look at those bitches".

SA Prisoners Organisation for Human Rights president Golden Miles Bhudu, who shackled his hands and feet, hoisted a poster reading: "Jacob Zuma was raped."

http://www.news24.com/News24/South_Africa/Zuma/0,,2-7-1840_1880461,00.html
hooray!

CAMERAPHONE!

HOE OM JOU KATJIE N PILLETJIE TE GEE! * 'n Kort handleiding in 15 stappe

1. Plaas jou katjie in die buig van jou arm asof jy n klein baba vashou. Sit jou regter wysvinger en duim aan beide kant van sy snoetjie en oefen versigtig druk uit, terwyl jy die pil in die ander hand gereed hou. Sodra jou katjie sy bekkie oop maak, gooi die pil in en gee die katjie die geleentheid om dit af te sluk.

2. Soek die pil op die vloer en gaan haal die katjie agter die bank uit. Plaas die katjie weer in die ronding van jou arm en herhaal die proses. Gaan haal die dem kat uit die slaapkamer en gooi die nat pil in die drom.

3. Neem n nuwe pil uit die dosie, plaas weer die kat in jou arm, terwyl jy beide voor pote stewig vashou. Forseer sy kake oop en druk die pil binne in sy mond met jou regter wysvinger. Hou die kat se bek vir ten minste 10 tellings toe.

4. Haal die pil uit die visdam met die klein netjie en gaan haal die mal kat bo van die kas af. Roep nou jou maat uit die tuin uit om jou te kom help.

5. Kniel op die vloer en dwing die kat tussen jou knie� vas, neem sy pootjies in n baie stewige greep, ignoreer die harde gegrom. Laat jou maat die kat se kop ferm vashou en dwing sy bek oop met n hout liniaal. Gooi die pil via die liniaal in sy bek in en vryf jou kat se keel om sy sluk proses aan te moedig.

6. Haal die besimpelde kat van die gordyn-reeling af en neem nog 'n pil uit die dosie uit. Maak n aantekening om n nuwe liniaal te koop en ook om die gordyne te laat regmaak. Vee die stukke glas en keramiek van die beeldjies en potte op sodat jy dit later kan weg gooi.

7. Draai die blasende kat in n groot handdoek toe en laat jou maat bo-op die kat le of sit, sodat net die kat se kop uitsteek onder jou armholte. Suig die pil met n strooitjie op en forseer die blerrie kat se bek oop. Blaas die pil, deur die strooitjie, in die kat se keel af.

8. Lees die pamflet deur, om te sien of die pille skadeloos vir mense is en drink n koue bier om die smaak uit jou mond uit te kry. Ontsmet jou maat se arm, sit salf op die wond en draai n verband om. Verwyder die bloedvlekke van die vloer.

9. Gaan haal die flippen kat uit die buurman se garage, neem nog n pilletjie uit die boks en drink nog n bier. Sit jou kat in die klerekas sodat net sy kop uitsteek. Forseer sy bek oop en skiet die pil met n kettie in sy keel af.

10. Gaan haal die skroewedraaier uit die garage en hang die kasdeur terug op sy skaniere. Soek die whisky bottel, neem n groot sluk en ontsmet die krapmerke op jou wange. Maak seker of jou tetnus-inspuiting nog geldig is. Gooi jou stukkende trui in die drom en gaan trek 'n ou overall aan.

11. Bel die brandweer om die satan-helskat uit die boom uit te kom haal. Vra jou buurman om verskoning vir die taalgebruik en neem die laaste pil uit die dosie.

12. "Tape" beide voorvoete van die tierkat aan mekaar vas met duct tape. Bind hom stewig aan die poot van die eetkamer-tafel vas met n stuk ankertou. Trek jou welding-gloves aan, druk die pil in n stukkie vleis en gooi n groot glas vol water. Hou die klein wetter se kop agteroor, gooi die vleis in, gevolg deur die hele glas water, hou sy bek toe vir 5 minute.

13. Neem die bottel whisky en drink hom leeg. Vra jou maat om jou, so gou moontlik, by Ongevalle te kry, want jy word al lighoofdig van die bloedverlies. Laat hulle jou vingers en voor-arm vas werk en die laaste pil uit jou oog uit verwyder. Bel onderweg vir Hyperama om n nuwe eetkamer-tafel te bestel.

14. Bel ook die SPCA om te reel dat hulle die gemuteerde satanskind van n helkat kom haal en stop by die Petshop om te vra of hulle nie dalk klein hamsters het nie.



HOE OM n HOND n PIL TE GEE:
Draai dit in n stukkie ham toe.

The following is a reproduction of an old email between me and someone who is no longer alive. If for some reason you think you may find it upsetting, please DO NOT read further.
_________________________

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Sell the kids for food
weather changes moods
Spring is here again
reproductive glands...



I love the distractions of Google ads. The tangents are usually quite entertaining.

"'Mme. Lombard' is a healthy and vigorous tea rose that is often called the cemetery rose because it is found in great numbers in cemeteries. This demonstrates its amazing ability to survive and thrive in desperate situations.

'Mme. Lombard' is one of the best and most reliable roses in our garden. It is a huge bush that is continuously covered with beautiful blooms.

The canes are covered with exceptionally large and sharp prickles. This combination provides an irresistible nesting site for many song birds. This is because there is plenty of room within the bush for a nest. Also, any predator, such as a stray cat or a raccoon, that would venture into 'Mme. Lombard' would soon be a candidate for a trip to the local hospital's emergency room."
http://www.ph-rose-gardens.com/00433.htm

"Very double, fragrant, rosy-salmon with a dark centre. Vigorous."
http://www.classicroses.co.uk/roses/m/mme_lombard.html#

"Mme Lombard was bred in France by Lacharme in 1878. It is a direct seedling from the famous Mme de Tartas whose bloodline has contributed to more than 7,500 known varieties, including Iceberg, Mr Lincoln, Superstar, Gold Medal and Double Delight. [Hmm, porno...] This Madame is no genteel lady: it has enormous thorns and plenty of them. It also has a reputation for survival in bad conditions, especially in neglected cemeteries."
http://www.hanna.id.au/roses/Trials2004.html

I uncurl my hand, and all that's left is a little ash.
Cool. Dry. Weightless.

And then that, too, is gone, blown away through my clutching fingers.


_______________________
Postscript... (27 September)
"I had learned that in the context of forces you can't control, indecision equals pain, but decisions equal clarity, and clarity equals the ability and will to accomplish what you had decided to do."

- PJE. Dirtsimple.org. Yeah, he's said some really wise stuff... To realise that the first time you heard a lot of it was in the form of plagiarised comments by others that you'd regarded as insightful is bitterly disappointing.

Aah, Seapoint. Maybe it's just the ho pheromones, or the exhaust fumes, or the soupy mist of oil from cheap takeaways, or the blinking lights, relentless through the smog... but the whole place reeks of overtiredness.

Know how the Durban beachfront feels at night? All sodium glare and humid candyfloss and hooting and "rayban" pushers, stumbling over sprawling elephantiasis limbs; cabbagey piss and rotten elephantiasis limbs underfoot at every turn, elephantiasis limbs everywhere?

Or the water slides in Muizenberg? Icecream sticks and rusty fishguts and cocoabutter thick in your nostrils? Shrivelled bikini grans and stubbed toes and burnt children scrambling back up, over and over, with fresh snot to add to the circulated stream? Like that.

Like a casino, or a circus, or the school parking lot half an hour before the last night of the end of year play. Just like that. The cement, the tar etched with residues of action, marked by the erratic paths of people hopscotching between the pavement's wet patches of unknown origin, beat-up cabs snaking through the gutters, cruising for someone going somewhere, doing something... you never can be certain what.

There's a interminable vacancy in all the hyperactivity displayed, a kind of loneliness. A sense that whatever's done is probably being done mainly to keep up appearances, because it's in the script. In bar toilets, in sighing lifts and entrance lobbies of peeling flats, people wait, waiting unexpectantly for something undisclosed... The sour gaggles of Jewish crones... The fags in the coin-op laundrette... The kwerekwere... The goosefleshed trannie under the stop sign.

It's a frustrating place, a titillating place for anyone with even a pinch of the voyeur in them... You never know if today's gonna be your chance to be privy to that something, to overhear the deal. Well, it's hardly likely to be above board, is it? You daren't blink in case you miss it, yet you virtually never get to see the loops close, experience the denouement. Oy vey, it's a schande. Happeningness rubs your nose in it, but, from a distance, it's too pungent, too slippery to pry open cleanly... Conjecture's amusing but empty.

Romanticism breeds covetousness, even of the sordid. So, you've read Burroughs, Bukowski, Genet, Sade. Ballard, Palahniuk, Sartre... Your own illicit missions never feel as archetypal.

It's like being in love, but not being in 40s Casablanca, y'know? Like rainbow soap bubbles popping on your tongue... The bath gets cold before you stop being too distracted by the froth to immerse yourself fully.