...Cool...folks, we are proud to have been added to the blog roll of The Closet Professor......

Sep 25, 2012

Green Eyes --- Chapter 17: My penis has never been this large


Previously, Alex ("Green Eyes") offered to give us a ride, we took him upstairs for the same, and we've finally arrived in the bedroom.

(We publish this a bit out of sequence, but never mind)


We're back in the bedroom. We finally embrace, kiss. This is it, this is the moment. Should Alex expect me to sink to my knees now, unbutton his fly, like the porn flicks would do—or unzip his zipper, most porn flicks are so cheap, they don't have money for the more expensive, button-holed Levis—unzip his cheaper jeans and start caressing his briefs with my lips, drawing the attention to his budding tumescence under the cotton? Well, I might, at least in the sense that my bedroom looks almost as bad as the motel rooms where those flicks are shot, a chest, two wooden bedside tables, two wooden chairs (there's always hope), and a metally framed bed with an archy, be-barred headboard, done in brass imitation, a mattress, and fairly dirty sheets, a discordant collection of things that speak of my financial (and my mental) condition.

Sep 24, 2012

Idempotency (1)

It had to happen, it had to happen. One fine day, John will ask Alex: "What's idempotency?" And since this will be in one of the few chapters in any Green Eyes part where we are doing the explicit thing that readers so crave, Alex won't enter into a longish explanation, he won't say anything, since he's down on John's cock. But since John insists --- because we are writing this post now so we will have John insist -- Alex will briefly interrupt his busy schedule and might say: 'Why don't you look it up on Wikipedia.' But since Alex is so busy, he'll drop the first three words and not just might interrupt his schedule, he will interrupt his schedule. And just say: "Look it up on Wikipedia." But that's cruel, isn't it? Sending people to Wikipedia? While having sex, nota bene? With them?

Photoshop's stained glass filter applied once 

M& Redefinition: S&M: Telling people to look it up on Wikipedia while having sex.

Sep 23, 2012

Freedom Fries --- introduction

Freedom Fries, yes, how about the Freedom Fries. The term came into being in the spring of 2003, when President Jaques Chirac of France refused to join George W. Bush in his attack on Iraq (the second Gulf War), and Representative Robert W. Ney (R-Ohio), the chairman of the Committee on House Administration, directed the three canteens of the US House of Representatives to rename French fries to "freedom fries."

 US House of Representatives member Robert W. Ney (R-Ohio),
announcing the renaming of French fries to Freedom Fries in 2003. 

When Michael decided to write a script about the aftermath of the Bush years, he used the Freedom Fries reminiscence as a trigger for a change of heart of (or in) the former president---with predictably unpredictable consequences for him and a few other people.

Green Eyes --- Chapter 3: Sex on the beach (or: "I feel like God gave me our friendship")


We had a thrilling encounter with a beautiful, green-eyed beach boy, but he has already left the scene in the dunes behind the beach, leaving me and a naked, crew-cut man behind, a Brit in desperate need of a towel to cover his private parts. I'm trying to find a suitable towel on the beach, but am interrupted by a suspicious towel-owner. The story continues:


"I don't believe you," the towel owner replies. "I think you are trying to steal something, possibly the booze."
"No," I say, “no, never." This round man isn't slow-witted, and he's developing dubious schemes behind his forehead.
"You were trying to get hold of our champagne, a Bollinger vintage, ten years old, that George and I brought to the beach to celebrate the first week of our friendship, worth a hundred bucks."

Update, update: this picture comes up on Google search with
the search term I feel like God gave me our friendship

In retrospect, I could have said so many things, like 'What's your friendship worth?' or 'Bollinger is not my thing, I prefer Moët.' Or I could have confessed and plead for a towel for a hapless Brit. Instead I say: "Believe me."

That was the last thing this beach bear intended to do. "You're in trouble," he says with a clear sense of my apprehensiveness, "I'll get the Beach Guard, they'll take care of you." There’s a brief, mutual pause as I consider my future as a convicted felon while the bear mulls over his dirty thoughts.

Libra (Jezza Smilez)


(click here for more from Jezza:)

Sep 22, 2012

You write like Shakespeare (reposted)

The IHT had a column by Alex Beam about the new website I Write Like, which uses a Bayesian classifier algorithm to compare anyone's prose to that of  famous writers. Thought up by the Russian programmer Dmitry Chestnykh, the site has already generated serious mischief. Somebody submitted transcriptions of Mel Gibson's phone rants, and I Write Like concluded that he "writes" like Margaret Atwood. Atwood own prose was classified as "Stephen King." A former president of Harvard writes like the sci-fi writer Cory Doctorov, and novelist Claire Messud writes like David Foster Wallace (not true, by the way).

You see it coming. We have to find out about ourself. so we first submit Huck Finn's father's rant against the government, which we posted because of its prophetic anticipation of the Tea Party, and, yes, I Write Like returned the answer: "You write like Mark Twain." Cool.

OK, so now a text of our own. Let's take the Donna Pérignon post from March 2010, one of the countless contributions on this blog so heartlessly ignored by pundits and mainstream media. Donna pays us a visit and rekindles our interest in the Giant Wave. Have you read it now? Donna is actually our neighbor Michelle de la Sala, and she really looks like Michelle Pfeiffer.

We now submit this post (its text) to I write like, and the answer is:



I write like
William Shakespeare
I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!



What can we say? Buy our new book, GREEN EYES, and find out yourself:


Night Owl Reviews

Sep 20, 2012

Moi non plus




Yes, right. You need to know more. We're always willing to help, just read another chapter of our outrageous new novel Green Eyes, the chapter helpfully titled My penis has never been this large (not yet on this blog, but on the risqué sister blog Test where consenting adults meet for more), scroll down, and you will see (the light).

Sep 19, 2012

Good evening!

Have a look at Michael Kirwan's site

What's your answer? --- a quiz (Jacki)

So you are writing a novel, or a play, about Winston Churchill, say, and somebody just said to him: "Winston, if you were my husband, I'd put poison in your coffee." What's your answer? You possibly know the answer to this one, but that's what this quiz is about. (Answers under the read more link at the bottom)


(1) Thomas Reed vs. Henry Clay: Clay: "I would rather be right than be president." What's Clay's reply?
(2) Lady Astor vs. Winston Churchill: Astor: "Winston, if you were my husband, I'd put poison in your coffee." What's Churchill's reply?
(3) NYM Ed Koch vs Andrew Kirtzman, after the reporter insisted on pressing a point about an inconsistent statement Koch had made. What was Koch's answer?
(4) Groucho Marx vs. a contestant on You Bet Your Life, after the contestant revealed that he was a father of 10. Groucho: "Why so many children." Guest: "Well, Groucho, I love my wife." What was Groucho's next line?
(5) Abraham Lincoln vs. Stephen Douglas, after Douglas called him two-faced during a debate. How did Lincoln react?
(6) Pierre Trudeau vs. Richard Nixon, upon hearing that Nixon had called him an asshole. What did Trudeau say?
(7) Oscar Wilde vs. Lewis Morris; Morris had just been passed over for the Poet Laureateship, and said to Wilde: "There's a conspiracy against me, a conspiracy of silence buut what can one do? What should I do?" What was Wilde's reply?
(8) Miriam Hopkins vs. an anonymous singer, who had just informed her: "You know, dear, I insured my voice for fifty thousand dollars." What did Hopkins say?
(9) James McNeill Whistler vs. Oscar Wilde, after Whistler had made a particularly witty observation.Wilde: "I wish I had said that." What was Whistler's reply?
(10) Senator Fritz Hollings vs. Henry McMastor, when challenged by his Republican opponent during a televised debate to take a drug test. What did Hollings say?
(11) Reverend Edward Everett Hale vs. the U.S. Senate, when asked if he prayed for the Senators. What was Hale's answer?
(12) Edna Ferber vs. Noel Coward, Coward was remarking upon the fact that Ferber was wearing a tailored suit. Coward: "You look almost like a man." What was Ferber's riposte?
(13) Winston Churchill vs. a Member of Parliament, who said: "Mr. Churchill, must you fall asleep while I'm speaking?" What did Churchill say?
(14) Calvin Coolidge vs. some random lady at a White House dinner. Woman: Mr Coolidge, I've made a bet against a fellow who said it was impossible to get more than two words out of you." How did Coolidge reply?

Sep 16, 2012

Why have they stopped wearing white collars? (reposted)

Nigerian scam poster Like everybody else, we're getting these letters from Nigeria. Here's the latest (from .pl, actually, that's Poland, I think, the full email address is: mrzacom@gazeta.pl --- in case you feel the need to reply):

Dear MICHAEL
Please pardon me for not having the liberty of knowing your mindset before writing you this letter without any formal introduction.My name is Mr. Zaco Mohammed I am the present branch Manager in one of the Barclay's Bank here in London I write to solicit for your partnership in claiming of $15.million usd from an account at our Head Office .
The aforementioned fund $15.million usd is my share percentage from a Gold Mining project that i helped financed, influentially.
Furthermore, as a Manager in the bank, I am not allowed to be part of such a deal, because it's against my company's professional practice policy. So I am compelled to ask that you stand on my behalf and receive this fund into
any account that is solely controlled by you. I will compensate you with 35% of the total amount involved as gratification for being my partner in the transfer.
Please contact me immediately you received this mail
Yours Truly,
Mr.Zaco Mohammed

Do we have to point out what's wrong with this letter---besides the ploy? Everything is off, style ("MICHAEL"), spelling (the first person pronoun is not capitalized), interpunction (spaces between the last letter and a dot, for example), grammar ("that i helped financed"), idiomatic usage  ("for not having the liberty of knowing your mindset") etc. And it's always thus.

Who is writing these letters? In my days, we were told with great fanfare of highly intelligent---that was always the qualifier: "highly intelligent"---individuals that were cheating unsuspecting victims out of their money by means of wit, deception, guile, and other nonviolent forms of behavior, all this while the perpetrators were wearing white collars.

Bürchen in Switzerland (reposted)

Milka milk chocolate, with the milk from happy cows---that was the slogan of a chocolate commercial during my youth in Germany. And there we are, in Bürchen, Switzerland, and it's true.


Near Bürchen, Bietschhorn in the background (peak in the clouds)

Bürchen is located on the southern side of the Valais valley, near the side valleys of Zermatt and Saas Fee, at 1600m altitude. The ski lift begins right in front of our settlement, the Chalet zone.

Did you sleep well?

"Why, oh why, have beauty spots gone out of fashion?"

It's life

When sperm, 
And egg, 
Unite, something...

Seamus, the chimp that was not stripped to the roof of the station wagon
...has to give.

No, wrong...Something...

Goes, 
From, 
Inanimate,
To animate.
It's life.

Sep 15, 2012

Look, no penis lines!

Write a novel, see the world. In the Green Eyes, Michael& has Charles coming from Torquay, because we thought that Beau Brummel (the inventor of Dandyism) had spent his summers there, but were obviously mistaken --- was it Bath, perhaps? Never mind, we were lucky in other respects, since in the chapter Agatha Christie (which talks about the English author by sheer serendipity) we mention that Christie had mysteriously disappeared during a marriage crisis. And then we started doing some research on amnesia, because Alex will suffer from said condition as a consequence of his suicide attempt, and discover that Christie's disappearance has been a famous case of Dissociative Amnesia, exactly the sort of condition that could affect Alex now. Plus, plus (we had forgotten, despite actually having read a Christie biography 20 years ago) Christie had been born in Torquay. Structure regained, readers, links, connections, correspondence, the stuff meaning is made of.

And so we found this on dandyism.net:

That letter so carelessly tossed on the cabaña floor had freed Elyot from even pretending to care about Clifford’s choices in swimwear or companions.

More of this on our temporary page Dandies --- an illustrated novella

Good Morning!


Sep 14, 2012

A brief post on style (Frank L. Visco)


Always avoid alliteration.
Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.
Avoid cliches like the plague. (They're old hat.)
Employ the vernacular.
Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.
Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are unnecessary.
It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.
Contractions aren't necessary.
Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.
One should never generalize.
Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said: "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."
Comparisons are as bad as cliches.
Don't be redundant; don't use more words than necessary; it's highly superfluous.
Profanity sucks.
Be more or less specific.
Understatement is always best.
Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement.
One-word sentences? Eliminate.
Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.
The passive voice is to be avoided.
Go around the barn at high noon to avoid colloquialisms.
Even if a mixed metaphor sings, it should be derailed.
Who needs rhetorical questions?


The tragedy of the unfinished bathroom

We also do art, right? So, that's the excuse:


That's not the art, that's just the unfinished bathroom

We're sitting in a friend's chalet and the repair people are supposed to show up and finish the work in the bathroom. Don't let's get into the gritty-nitty details, we've waited all day and I finally send the following email to our friend:

...two boys showed up to install a new radiator...nobody else...so much for earlier assertions made earlier today..we've waited the whole day for them, could not go out...this is now the end of the second week we are without toilet on the floor...

(this is the entire email message, okay, the elliptical dots are very handy, no need any longer to finish sentences).

Here's our friend's reply:
Roy Lichtenstein Alka Seltzer (1966)

Sep 12, 2012

Shall I compare thee to a summer day?



Since we are a literature blog now, we have to do serious stuff, like posting some serious pictures, like. Like this one...

Tyson Beckford
...which brings to mind Shakespeare's 18th sonnet...


Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 


...(you don't want to look at the HTML code underneath)...

...but you might want to look at this clip, eternalizing David Gilmour, the singer of Pink Floyd, when he set the sonnet to his music, because that's what aging rock stars, like us, do, when, they, have, their, reflective, moments...





...and judge yourself.

Hold on, here are a few pointers to Sonnet 18:

Green Eyes --- Chapter 2: Beach towel




Night Owl Reviews


Just to remind you, you haven't read Chapter 1 of Michael  Ampersant's outrageous new novel, but we just had a thrilling encounter with a beautiful, green-eyed guy, who, following cruising conventions, has left the scene already, leaving me and an anonymous blond person behind, who has just suggested that we'll meet up again later.


I'm sitting on the ground, he's hovering above me, his head tilted a bit, his feet planted apart in masturbatory position, his absent-minded hand still stroking his own, softening dick, both of us naked, the beach only a hundred yards away—and he's asking for a date.
"You are asking for a date?" I say.
He halts his pointless jerking. "Yes," he replies, "an acquaintance is having a do next to the Blue Moon, midnight. I'm certain you would be welcome. We could meet up and get laid. There's always a closet or a darkroom for the occasion."



Maurice

I take visible note of my own naked body, then stare at his (this avoids a lot of explaining), and say: "We just had an anonymous sexual encounter, not really sex, but a sexual encounter. Spewing one’s cum over a person amounts to a sexual encounter, and you ask for a date? How intimate can one get?"

"Come to think of it." He studies his own bare body, "Yes, that's what I have been doing. Sorry. Don't be offended. Stupid me." He has a British accent. His hand plays with his short hair.

Sep 11, 2012

Guiness Book of Averages

Yes, we know. Something went wrong with the link. So we have to write our own Book on Averages now. Won't be easy. But we know already...

Average time of reading a Shakespeare sonnet: 3 minutes.

And, along those lines (you know us)...

Average length of the human penis: The average penis size is slightly larger than the median size (i.e., most penises are below average in size).


Seamus, who looks like a penis, but was not strapped to the roof
of the station wagon

Now we still don't know the average size, but imagine that we were having a phone conversation with a tele-marketeer who is selling penis-enhancers, say. You ask a direct question. Like: "You think my penis is too small?" Would you expect a direct answer? No, you are so much used to the decline of our civilization, you are completely accepting of the answer:"The average penis size is slightly larger than the median size (i.e., most penises are below average in size)" and you buy the penis-enhancer from Beate Uhse instead. That link didn't break, right? By the way, it's indicative of the Tea Party that its members don't think asides about tele-marketeers are funny.

Update, update:

Your dong as a life-style issue

Stay tuned.

Sep 10, 2012

Holmes and Holmes again (Dirk)

Let's promise a joke, first.

Second, let's watch the clip:



What is it about Sherlock Holmes? His wit must play a major role, so there's still hope for mankind. And now the joke:
Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson go on a camping trip. After a good dinner and a bottle of wine, they retire for the night, and go to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes wakes up and nudges his faithful friend. “Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see.” “I see millions and millions of stars, Holmes” replies Watson. “And what do you deduce from that?” Watson ponders for a minute. “Well, Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful, and that we are a small and insignificant part of the universe. But what does it tell you, Holmes?” Holmes is silent for a moment. “Watson, you idiot!” he says. “Someone has stolen our tent!”

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis (2) (Monty Python)

And here's the clip:



For a full transcript, see our earlier post here.

Sep 8, 2012

Green eyes, Prologue

Readers, the first chapter of this story describes a casual encounter of three men in the dunes behind the gay section of the beach of my town. It does so in fairly graphic language, language that might be shocking to some of you. I have therefore decided to put the first chapter into an appendix, and provide instead a flat, inoffensive summary of the events described there, events that triggered the heartbreaking, murderous, but ultimately fortuitous story of the Green Eyes.



My name is John Lee, and I live in Georgia Beach, GA. I teach French at Southern Georgia College, a small school 30 miles to the south-east.

I have issues. During my adolescence, I was diagnosed with bipolarity, a psychological condition of difficult mood-swings. As I grew up, I became arrogant, shy, and homosexual, character traits that interact with my bipolarity. At my age --- I am 29 years old --- I find myself in a downward spiral of disengagement, depression, and neglect. Whereas I was outgoing and sexually active during my youth, I am now mostly confined to my small apartment on the Roosevelt Canal, where I --- auto-erotic efforts aside --- play chess on the internet (losing), publish a blog (that nobody reads), and prepare classes (that students don't like). A side-effect of my bipolarity of relevance here has to do with my language. I am hypersensitive to certain power-point expressions ("going forward"), but use myself various forms of new-speak (e.g., the "un"-prefix), idiosyncratic turns of phrase (using "said" as a demonstrative, "wise" as a post-fix modifier), and am given to awkward metaphors and abundant bracketing (()). My mother is French, my father rarely spoke when I was young, and English is not my first language.

We're in early July when the story begins. I am waking up on a Sunday morning, feel the need for fresh air, and decide on stroll along the beach. As I saunter past the gay section of said beach, I encounter a man of great physical attractiveness. He has roughly my age, but his most remarkable feature are his green, mesmerizing eyes. We take note of each other. The man, let's call him Green Eyes, is clearly indicating his readiness for an immediate exchange of bodily fluids. I follow him into the dunes. We undress for, and engage in, a sexual act. A third man appears on the scene, undresses, and joins. All three of us reach a climax in due course. Green Eyes re-dresses and disappears. In a surprising turn of events --- surprising at least for anybody who is familiar with casual, anonymous homosexual behavior --- the third man invites me to a party at the house of a friend later in the evening. So far, Chapter One.

Readers, I urge you, I implore you, leave the appendix alone, turn the page, and continue with Chapter 2.

Halt. Hold it. I forgot. The sanitization of Chapter 1 doesn't mean you can fool around. The rest of this book isn't a cakewalk either, it's solely for mature audiences, to put it mildly. Have fun.

Opus 1 (German for beginners)



Praise for Michael Winter's Opus 1:

"Die konzertierten Harmonien dieses erstaunlichen Erstwerkes erinnern nicht so sehr an Wagner oder Debussy, obwohl sie in ihrer Transzendenz und konzentrierten Zurückhaltung gleichwohl das Interesse eines an Weltmusik geschulten Publikums verdienen..." (BaRbette Bienpensant in Fortgeschrittene Musik)

Right. We told you so.

PS: If I would show this to my mother, she would say "albern" ("silly")
PSS: Here's the Google translation:

"Concerted harmonies of this amazing Erstwerkes remember not so much of Wagner and Debussy, although their transcendence and concentrated restraint nonetheless deserve the attention of a qualified audience of world music ..."

PSSS: Not our day.

Car poetry

"You need one of these," a friend writes and sends this picture:



 "Perhaps you don't know," we write back, "but we've got a new car, well not so new, but it has a cool running board and sexy tires." He can't believe it, he needs to see a picture. Here it is:



And here's the cultural excuse for all this:

A car is a car
If it can ride you nearby or far

A car is a car
When it gets you in time to the bar.

Sylvia Chidi

(Editor's note: the poem continues for another 30 lines or so, which we edited out for obvious reasons)

Cow poetry

Please take a picture of the cows...asked Jo on the phone. So here we are, with cows right on the little patch below the parking lot of the chalet zone in Bürchen, Switzerland, where we are staying at the moment...


...but we are not yet done, since this blog is about to undergo transmogrification into a platform for Michael's writing and other cultural pursuits. How are we going to justify pedestrian cows to high-minded readers? With poetry, of course, Cow Poetry. Let's keep it short, though, you never know how this will end.

I've never seen a purple cow,
I never hope to see one,
but I can tell you anyhow,
I'd rather see then be one!

Gelett Burgess

Sep 6, 2012

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis (Monty Python)

"Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis? Isn't it frightfully good to have a dong? It's swell to have a stiffy; it's divine to own a dick...from the tiniest little tanger, to the world's biggest prick! So three cheers for your willy or john thomas...hurray for your one-eyed trouser-snake...your piece of pork, your wife's best friend, your percy or you cock...you can wrap it up in ribbons, you can slip it in your sock...but don't take it out in public or they will stick you in the dock, and you won't come back. Uuh thank you very much." (Hat tip: Urban Dictionary)