Plus l’artiste comprend les intentions de nature mieux, plus il triomphera de lui plus facilement.
The better the artist understands the intentions of nature, the more easily he will triumph over it
Nous avons cassé l’internet.
[thanks to Violet Shuraka and her sweatshop of comely persons!]
O best beloved internet, today I took some time from my busy schedule to worry about getting that bird flu and whether or not Hilary Swank will wear Vera Wang. Then that baby of my acquaintance stopped by. Here’s the thing with babies: They are swirling existential voids. People think babies don’t know anything, but they are wrong. Babies know they are helpless and insignificant, and this rightly pains them. This one is constantly suicidal, throwing himself at electrical outlets with tongue extended. He is also good at seeking out buckets containing one inch of water. I feel bad stopping him since he seems to really know what he wants, but I am pretty sure assisted suicide is illegal, even in this godless liberal state. Not that I looked that up, so don’t believe junk you read on the internet.
This disjointed rambling brings us to the results of our Vomitola election. I know you’ve all been irritated and jittery waiting for these results. I praise those of you who voted multiple times, especially for me.
And the winner is —
Cease! Desist! Impudent whores, I claim this puny electronic fiefdom in the name of superior intellect.
While I am no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh and the mother’s milk of the vine, one cannot build a nation by telling the little creatures that they do not have to toil if they do not wish to do so. Indeed, I rather admire the notion of enslaving the sans-culottes. However, I simply cannot abide the necessary company of rogues and japesters required to bring this to fruition. Let them exist under the iron rule of my ministers, out of sight and distance of hearing.
Thus, I see no other course than to appoint myself Monarch in Perpetuit. It is for your own good, you incompetent strumpets! Democracy is pointless and ugly simply because the pointless and ugly are allowed as much of a say as I. Now yield me my due as sovereign, and I will endeavour to rehabilitate the status of this intellectual cesspool.
-Melvin I
En conséquence toute l’expérience a montré, cette humanité sont plus disposée pour souffrir, alors que les maux sont sufferable, que vers la droite elles-mêmes en supprimant les formes auxquelles elles sont accoutumées
(…accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.)
L’âge mûr donne la tonalité aux violons, au vin, et aux bons camarades.
(Ripe age gives tone to violins, wine, and good fellows.)
L’invalide est un parasite sur la société. Dans un certain état il est indécent pour continuer à vivre.
(The invalid is a parasite on society. In a certain state it is indecent to go on living.)
En Afrique j’avais en effet trouvé un genre suffisamment épouvantable de solitude mais l’isolement de ce tas américain de fourmi était plus se brisant.
(In Africa I had indeed found a sufficiently frightful kind of loneliness but the isolation of this American ant heap was even more shattering.)
by Melvin, a beagle
The toiling masses with their burdens and effluvia need not decide my personal liberties.
Making mistakes and learning from one’s decisions is only natural for humanity, but the sad fact is that we are beleagured by sub-humans. Their hollow cries for vengeance jar my ear, just as a wine that has soured rapes the palate. Ignore their talk, straight from Bedlam.
Nous avons ainsi beaucoup de raisons d’être des hermites, mais quelqu’un doit régner.
(We have so many reasons to be hermits, but someone must prevail.)
Dieu sait qu’elle ne m’a jamais donné un regard fâché, ou a poussé un mot de reproche. Quel est le résultat? Que je ne l’aime pas!
(God knows she has never given me one angry look, or uttered one word of reproach. What is the result? That I don’t love her!)