Anyway ... so it turns out that The Australian publishes pointless columns, the reading of which I find saps valuable time from my day which I might otherwise employ in reading Tolstoy or Jane Austen novels.
I mean, I ask you....
Watching them, I could see the degree to which many of us are often not really arguing with the people we’re arguing with; rather, we regress to a place where we are playing out our relationships with our parents.
...............................
The boss telling you to do something may trigger feelings of disempowerment not because his request is unreasonable but because you hear: “Son, do what I say!” Even the cleaning lady putting your socks in the wrong drawer can anger you because Mummy used to confuse your things with your older brother’s.Perhaps I can make my umbrage a little more clear, though, if I give voice to my objections in iambic pentameter. Ahem.
Ruth Ostrow, and just quietly, she knows
says of life's ills ..... repeated childhood woes!
Forgive me maam, as I replace my rib,
if I suggest that you are trite, and glib.
I hope that this request will not annoy......
Could you, perhaps, call me a naughty boy?
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8 comments:
The competition really is who can stay in character the longest.
Too many commas. Otherwise quite a good piece.
Also what happened to the Orange-and-white text-a-mile-wide in-your-face style of blog that we all know and love?
I found out what happened to it. It confused and infuriated me. Keep it up!
I never separate paragraphs by a row of dots, so you've embarrassed yourself there.
I'm inspired to put naked pictures of myself to do the switch over with Busty's blog.
I suspect that your readers would find that profoundly un-inspiring, though, Ben.
Brilliant Fitz. Though not quite pompous and sarcastic enough.
Et tu Geoff?
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