Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Grown Backwards

For my 200th post, I thought I'd celebrate by having the readability level of the Rambler checked. And what do you know:

cash advance

Should I be insulted? And here I was thinking that I swore too much. But I guess not, if they think that it's safe for grade-schoolers.

Or maybe it's just that my content is generally too lowbrow. More cultural references, perhaps? Let's see what I can do to get at least a 'junior high' rating:

"William Shakespeare, the immortal Bard of Stratford-Upon-Avon, was engaging in fairly run-of-the-mill anal intercourse with Immanual Kant, rolling about in a pool of untreated sewage somewhere down in Whitechapel, named for a small chapel of ease dedicated to St Mary built along the ancient Roman road leading into London. "Fuck, but my Little William seems unable to spend his hot, pearly load," grunted Shakespeare, turning so that Kant revolved like a pig on a spit (Use a meat thermometer and be certain that the internal temperature reaches 160°F for fresh pork, 155°F for cured pork).

Kant was either unwilling or unable to respond, as having his face pushed into the unutterably foul pool of human excrement had sent him soaring to heights of ecstasy that he'd never before dream't of. Many leading epistemologists theorize that it was at the very point of Kant's orgasm that he formulated in his mind the central argument of his Critique of Pure Reason - that our understanding of the external world has its foundations not merely in experience, but in both experience and a priori concepts. Spitting the greasy black feces out of his mouth, he attempted to communicate this sudden insight to Shakespeare. Shakespeare merely called him "a motherless whore whose asshole is unworthy of the majesty that is my cock" and kicked him down to the riverbank."

There. I'll have to check and see if that ups my rating. Either that, or gets me set up on obscenity charges.

Tune in tomorrow for my first blog from jail.


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