Sanity Fair - August, 2008, III.
Day 258, 06:35
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Published in USA 
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by
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by targumjoe
Sanity Fair, August, 2008, III.
Well, I’m very sad because my last article, „the prodigal son’s confession” is somehow removed. Maybe, it was abusing? Even so, my paper will be consecutively numbered. Anyway, my holiday is over and I more blurred than a can of oil. So, there is enough cause to initiate another small talk about the weather.
P.S: I congratulate to the new president, Mr. Archibald.
- Exhibition Room –
The special guest of the day is an abstract painter, Arthur Dove. This is his one of the most fabulous makeup, „The Critic”. This figure is remembering me Luca Brasi, but this is my moronessness.
- Finnegan’s oversleeping –
The surreal feuilletoner’s gingered kisses
Sanity Fair
Take a look at the old continent, where could flourish the vanguard artists, no matter in which discipline are they pretty accomplished. If you have a good idea, you can enthroning yourself in Europe. Literally, too.
The Hungarian Republic had declared that he dubbed himself now Kingdom. While the people of the Commonwealth tiffed at the balcony, the hungarians were striking out the great redeemering contrivance, what I ever heard. I’m still borne away by that apple-pie ordered measure, but honestly, I don’t think that it would be benefical in a pure republican game. Or we could adopt the slave-holder egyptian culture too, with pharaohes and pyramides and cats with blinkering eyes. Or we could adopt a consitutional theocracy based on manga ava’s, within we can fear any other human user, just because he or she is the „choosen one”, according to the other users. Now, Hungary has a fictional King, Antonius Carphaty, the 1st, who has right to do everything in his own padded little world, for instance, he can engender heirs, as best he could – he has now two children, Prince Emerick Carphaty [what kind of interference, LOL – (this is an abbreviation)], who is the son of the abovementioned Antonius and an unknown and enigmatic „spanish noblewoman” (you can make of certain at the erepublik wiki), and the other royality person, Prince Anita, but we do not know further information about her princessness, because she is much more veiled like any other member of that metafictional family. You know, there is the first level of abstraction, which I call simply „eRepublic”, but the international community has set up another floor onto it and that’s what I call simply estrangement of the estrangement. This is not an original comeback into the real life, no – that leads us just a much more complicated and patologic mind-game, what I wouldn’t accept.
But who cares, what I would accept? There is an ongoing voting in the hungarian congress about that matter and they have the right to renounce it.
By all means, this is much worshipful attitude, than the irish example. At August 1st, in Ireland was an admin-sanctified political take-over. The former irish president, the well-known president Imanewbie was „depresidentalized” by some newbie in Ireland. But they are not positively newbies in the game; they are definitely qualified in politics, especially in frequent promises, destabilization and deceit. The „Godfather” manoeuvres everything, like in real life (no abbreviation), and pure and hard-working irishmen stunned by this official coup. I’m sad, because everything depends on just the determinated and influential „eminence grises”.
Joey
Vanity Fair
Here is my anthem contest winner poem. The former president, Mr. Dishmcds had published it, but I’m very vain and proud, so I must share it with you again. Maybe, the last line will give ground for some touché. After that, I issue my last poem, which disappeared unexplainable.
targumjoe: Live and let live
Be the humble servant of the eternal Right
even if the thunderous Time is within sight
Ward to your last ditch the curtain of the Future
Hold out for our assiduous fathers built Culture
Be untrammelled by the bung passion of the Hate
Steel your aboveboard hearth with victorious Faith
and this be our motto for aye ’Live and let live’
to praise the Lord through the immutable Freedom’s give
targumjoe: the prodigal son’s confession
i was inside the hornet’s nets
got the barren blame off my chest
salivating indulgence was the only reason to seasoned
on easeful veneral disease
quick-setting cheese-cakes behind
the bras
floated by the wild-sweltering
full-blooded mood
hooked on organic mush
and awaking to a rude brush
my soul is a forsaken moonshiner
forsaken by the spastic time
stunned by just the bygone’s
overused bitter pills
called passionate self-destruction
© targumjoe 2008. All rights (and laconicals) reserved.
Well, I’m very sad because my last article, „the prodigal son’s confession” is somehow removed. Maybe, it was abusing? Even so, my paper will be consecutively numbered. Anyway, my holiday is over and I more blurred than a can of oil. So, there is enough cause to initiate another small talk about the weather.
P.S: I congratulate to the new president, Mr. Archibald.
- Exhibition Room –
The special guest of the day is an abstract painter, Arthur Dove. This is his one of the most fabulous makeup, „The Critic”. This figure is remembering me Luca Brasi, but this is my moronessness.
- Finnegan’s oversleeping –
The surreal feuilletoner’s gingered kisses
Sanity Fair
Take a look at the old continent, where could flourish the vanguard artists, no matter in which discipline are they pretty accomplished. If you have a good idea, you can enthroning yourself in Europe. Literally, too.
The Hungarian Republic had declared that he dubbed himself now Kingdom. While the people of the Commonwealth tiffed at the balcony, the hungarians were striking out the great redeemering contrivance, what I ever heard. I’m still borne away by that apple-pie ordered measure, but honestly, I don’t think that it would be benefical in a pure republican game. Or we could adopt the slave-holder egyptian culture too, with pharaohes and pyramides and cats with blinkering eyes. Or we could adopt a consitutional theocracy based on manga ava’s, within we can fear any other human user, just because he or she is the „choosen one”, according to the other users. Now, Hungary has a fictional King, Antonius Carphaty, the 1st, who has right to do everything in his own padded little world, for instance, he can engender heirs, as best he could – he has now two children, Prince Emerick Carphaty [what kind of interference, LOL – (this is an abbreviation)], who is the son of the abovementioned Antonius and an unknown and enigmatic „spanish noblewoman” (you can make of certain at the erepublik wiki), and the other royality person, Prince Anita, but we do not know further information about her princessness, because she is much more veiled like any other member of that metafictional family. You know, there is the first level of abstraction, which I call simply „eRepublic”, but the international community has set up another floor onto it and that’s what I call simply estrangement of the estrangement. This is not an original comeback into the real life, no – that leads us just a much more complicated and patologic mind-game, what I wouldn’t accept.
But who cares, what I would accept? There is an ongoing voting in the hungarian congress about that matter and they have the right to renounce it.
By all means, this is much worshipful attitude, than the irish example. At August 1st, in Ireland was an admin-sanctified political take-over. The former irish president, the well-known president Imanewbie was „depresidentalized” by some newbie in Ireland. But they are not positively newbies in the game; they are definitely qualified in politics, especially in frequent promises, destabilization and deceit. The „Godfather” manoeuvres everything, like in real life (no abbreviation), and pure and hard-working irishmen stunned by this official coup. I’m sad, because everything depends on just the determinated and influential „eminence grises”.
Joey
Vanity Fair
Here is my anthem contest winner poem. The former president, Mr. Dishmcds had published it, but I’m very vain and proud, so I must share it with you again. Maybe, the last line will give ground for some touché. After that, I issue my last poem, which disappeared unexplainable.
targumjoe: Live and let live
Be the humble servant of the eternal Right
even if the thunderous Time is within sight
Ward to your last ditch the curtain of the Future
Hold out for our assiduous fathers built Culture
Be untrammelled by the bung passion of the Hate
Steel your aboveboard hearth with victorious Faith
and this be our motto for aye ’Live and let live’
to praise the Lord through the immutable Freedom’s give
targumjoe: the prodigal son’s confession
i was inside the hornet’s nets
got the barren blame off my chest
salivating indulgence was the only reason to seasoned
on easeful veneral disease
quick-setting cheese-cakes behind
the bras
floated by the wild-sweltering
full-blooded mood
hooked on organic mush
and awaking to a rude brush
my soul is a forsaken moonshiner
forsaken by the spastic time
stunned by just the bygone’s
overused bitter pills
called passionate self-destruction
© targumjoe 2008. All rights (and laconicals) reserved.
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