leonard267 Posts

He loves Snivies, [s]Sevipers]/s], Treeckos.

Personally I am more sanguine. Genetic engineering in my opinion would take the form of genetic therapy for the unborn. Genetic diseases and hereditary diseases can be avoided just like vaccinations of today. I am personally convinced that genetic engineering, if one takes a general definition of it, has been going on for quite some time from in the form of breeding, grafting, hybridizing, arranged marriages so on and so for.

Before leaving for work, I have done a few short parodies for the Mudslinging and a parody of Shark's farewell messages. Of course, I wouldn't dare make a thread in Incoherent Babbling or even the Random section for that matter.

Here is what I have been doing the past few hours:

https://www.fakku.net/forums/writing-and-fanfiction/winter-writing-contest-wrap-up-campaigning-and-mudslinging

Now, allow me to parody HumbugsAssociate farewell messages:

So I'm saying my goodbye's to W&F and the Writer's Lounge, for now...

@Xenon: I am leaving. Vote for me. Here is the thread: Winter Writing Contest 2013 Final Poll

@high: I am leaving. Vote for me. Here is the thread: Winter Writing Contest 2013 Final Poll

@xnine: I am leaving. Vote for me. Here is the thread: Winter Writing Contest 2013 Final Poll

@Assasin: I am leaving. Vote for me. Here is the thread: Winter Writing Contest 2013 Final Poll

@FGRaptor: I am leaving. Vote for me. Here is the thread: Winter Writing Contest 2013 Final Poll

@leo: YOU ARE LEAVING AND YOU ARE ME! GET READY FOR WORK, YOU IDIOT!

10. Parody of leonard267's entry: Another Analysis!

I have stated quite clearly that the Campaigning and Mudslinging thread would differ from other elections in the sense that it would give reasons on why my most excellent entry for the competition ought to be voted for. Indeed I should do so in a few sentences.

It is work of art produced by one of the self-proclaimed finest minds on this site, encyclopedic was his knowledge in making people blanch with his writing. He has a vision for the standards of writing on this pornographic website and the effort he put into lowering the standards of writing in this esteemed section is immeasurable.

No other work equals that of leonard267's in megalomaniacal and narcissistic tendencies, the inability to present plot and detail in a logical fashion, the astounding capacity to churn out the nonsensical and the absurd, the stridency displayed in making mountains out of molehills and splitting hairs and the divide in opinion amongst those who with a sense of humour and those who don't.

We have the messiah incarnate in our midst! Shouldn't we as mere mortals do our very best to ensure that his work and legacy endure the ravages of time? Here is a list of pointers inspired from analyses of His great work on how to write like Him:

How to Write Like Leonard267

1. Be utterly verbose. Use overly long sentences that string together many ideas at once. Never mind that the end product is difficult to read. Eg: However, the drunk people in the bar being drunk, begun stripping my clothes off in some bizarre dance sequence that involves poles and scantily clad women who are very poor candidates for lifelong partners.

2. Lots of explanations and justifications. However, they must not adhere to logic. Eg: Margaret Thatcher and I may not be human... Yet, just as I was entertaining the possibility that I would become a female Prime Minister, get backstabbed... (How does sharing a similarity with a female Prime Minister result in me becoming one?)

3. Contain references that only you can understand. Eg: It was rather obvious that these feelings of unhappiness have mutated into a desire for war on Earth and ill will to all mankind.

4. Referencing obscure references through the use of links. Eg: I was told by some section of an online forum that I need to mingle with more people.

5. Repetition. Eg: My thoughts turned to whether they were given a fuel allowance to tide the cold of the winter. My thoughts also turned to whether their homes have central heating in the first place.

6. Colourful and bright fonts. Eg: DON'T THINK THAT THE YEAR END FESTIVITIES ARE ALL THAT GOOD.

7. Random tone shifts that confuse the poor reader. Eg: They were nonetheless happy, even though they risk sending themselves to the gates of Hades by doing it at such an advanced age. Yet, more importantly, I am not happy.

8. Crazed rambling made possible through feelings of anger and frustration that makes one prone to complaining. Eg: PRETTY MUCH WHATEVER I WRITE!

Actually come to think of it, the same applies for almost every single parody with the possible exceptions of the book review and Dawn of Dark's parody.

Take Nejik's parody alone without reading through the original article and you might find that it does not make sense. What does a young boy and an old lady playing dressup have to do with the island being warm and the surroundings being cold? Not to mention the spirits that Nejik described in his entry.

Just take it as a madman ranting... I might have to make changes in the future.

8. Parody of Nejik's Entry: Why did I Linger There and Then?

Nejik, I have promised you a parody though I think I did say that it would come very late. A lot of people are complaining on why Arnold, who I thought was the narrator of the story is present. Perhaps we can change their minds if we replaced Arnold with leonard267. This parody of your entry will be much shorter than the others and I hope it would be easier to read. I find myself enjoying the shorter ones more than the longer ones:

It was that strange and bizarre and night that led me, leonard267, into this psychiatric ward to treat what was supposedly my hallucination-churning brain. While my acquaintances are quite convinced that I have a screw loose in my head to begin with, I am convinced that the events related to whoever that reads this actually happened:

Frigid blasts of air originating in the Arctic caused temperatures to plummet at that time. Yet, either due to the geography of the region or human activity, there were always the presence of heat islands. The island that I went to that fateful night was one of those heat islands, no pun intended. It was situated off quite a distance off the coast of the city where I lived.

While everyone is masochistic enough to engage in pointless winter celebrations outdoors, I wanted a peace of mind and an escape from the cold. So, I started my boat and was about to set off for that island only to find a very beautiful looking anthropoid ape, also known as a genderly ambiguous human being, asking me for a lift on my boat.

I compiled, because I am an aged, not-so-eligible bachelor looking for young women. Never mind that that island is uninhabited, never mind that it is generally a bad idea to give lifts to strangers bound for strange locations, I wanted to kickstart my love life! However, I was fooled by my passenger's slender limbs, light body and long hair. As we spoke, I realised that she was a he! After this shocking revelation, I found myself wishing to huddle myself in a corner. It is quite alike to having a close shave with death, except for my case it was a close shave with sodomy.

I did ask him what was his purpose for going to an uninhabited island, to which he replied that he is meeting his wife. That was rather strange, I thought. He looks barely legal! I felt like asking more questions like how old he was and why was his wife was on an uninhabited island only to feel a cold sensation coursing throughout me. Perhaps it was because I was finding that young man rather creepy.

Bizarre as things were, it was only when I reached the island when things went out of control. There was an ancient lady who looked like a male waiting for our arrival and she was dressed in bright colours so inappropriate for her age. My male companion spoke softly to me, gesturing to her, "She is my wife and I have a score to settle with her." It was at that moment I lamented silently of the moral and social decay of our society as I pictured a boy a little more than 10 years old married to someone 10 times older than him.

I was then entertained to a very strange pyrotechnic spectacle cum water fountain show. I swore that fire, water and ice materialised out of thin air as the young boy and old lady gesticulated wildly whilst yelling about global warming. Come to think of it, it felt like watching one of those ubiquitous and lousy current affairs show. I thought of leaving the island by boat to get as far away from them as possible when I blacked out all of a sudden. I was told that was due to an explosion on the island. Who knew that a fireworks display could be that dangerous?

When I came to, I was arrested for arson and wanton destruction of public property on an inhabited island miles away from a coastal city. I defended myself by telling them what I thought happened on the island only to find myself transferred to this psychiatric ward!

I don't know what happened to that young boy and that old lady. Urban legends has it that they are spirits of the city but really I rather believe that they are strange people so representative of the dysfunctional families we see today.

So, what is the moral of this story?

Parody of Nejik's Entry: Why did I Linger There and Then?

Nejik, I have promised you a parody though I think I did say that it would come very late. A lot of people are complaining on why Arnold, who I thought was the narrator of the story is present. Perhaps we can change their minds if we replaced Arnold with leonard267. This parody of your entry will be much shorter than the others and I hope it would be easier to read. I find myself enjoying the shorter ones more than the longer ones:

It was that strange and bizarre and night that led me, leonard267, into this psychiatric ward to treat what was supposedly my hallucination-churning brain. While my acquaintances are quite convinced that I have a screw loose in my head to begin with, I am convinced that the events related to whoever that reads this actually happened:

Frigid blasts of air originating in the Arctic caused temperatures to plummet at that time. Yet, either due to the geography of the region or human activity, there were always the presence of heat islands. The island that I went to that fateful night was one of those heat islands, no pun intended. It was situated off quite a distance off the coast of the city where I lived.

While everyone is masochistic enough to engage in pointless winter celebrations outdoors, I wanted a peace of mind and an escape from the cold. So, I started my boat and was about to set off for that island only to find a very beautiful looking anthropoid ape, also known as a genderly ambiguous human being, asking me for a lift on my boat.

I compiled, because I am an aged, not-so-eligible bachelor looking for young women. Never mind that that island is uninhabited, never mind that it is generally a bad idea to give lifts to strangers bound for strange locations, I wanted to kickstart my love life! However, I was fooled by my passenger's slender limbs, light body and long hair. As we spoke, I realised that she was a he! After this shocking revelation, I found myself wishing to huddle myself in a corner. It is quite alike to having a close shave with death, except for my case it was a close shave with sodomy.

I did ask him what was his purpose for going to an uninhabited island, to which he replied that he is meeting his wife. That was rather strange, I thought. He looks barely legal! I felt like asking more questions like how old he was and why was his wife was on an uninhabited island only to feel a cold sensation coursing throughout me. Perhaps it was because I was finding that young man rather creepy.

Bizarre as things were, it was only when I reached the island when things went out of control. There was an ancient lady who looked like a male waiting for our arrival and she was dressed in bright colours so inappropriate for her age. My male companion spoke softly to me, gesturing to her, "She is my wife and I have a score to settle with her." It was at that moment I lamented silently of the moral and social decay of our society as I pictured a boy a little more than 10 years old married to someone 10 times older than him.

I was then entertained to a very strange pyrotechnic spectacle cum water fountain show. I swore that fire, water and ice materialised out of thin air as the young boy and old lady gesticulated wildly whilst yelling about global warming. Come to think of it, it felt like watching one of those ubiquitous and lousy current affairs show. I thought of leaving the island by boat to get as far away from them as possible when I blacked out all of a sudden. I was told that was due to an explosion on the island. Who knew that a fireworks display could be that dangerous?

When I came to, I was arrested for arson and wanton destruction of public property on an inhabited island miles away from a coastal city. I defended myself by telling them what I thought happened on the island only to find myself transferred to this psychiatric ward!

I don't know what happened to that young boy and that old lady. Urban legends has it that they are spirits of the city but really I rather believe that they are strange people so representative of the dysfunctional families we see today.

So, what is the moral of this story?

If there is such a tie, I might have to read aloud all of the parodies that are written for those entries! xnine, I think I will make do with reading High's parody of your entry. I am so sorry that I am not able to come up with one for your entry.

This is a parody of the entry not done by me but done by high_time. I thought it brilliant and decided to post it with xninebreaker's permission:


I have come towards a city to seek the grave of my loved one. How her loss deeply saddens me. She was, my joy, my love, my true genuine, love. She was my love, my everything, love, my love, and my love. Why must I repeat the word 'love' so many times? Simple enough - it shows how much I loved her, that's all.

The city was broken down due to the post-apocalyptic thing, just without the zombies in order to make it even more cliched. The remainder of the story will be spent on my melancholic monologue, because I don't like describing the ugliness in my heart. only true beauty, lies in melancholy, with verbosely written poetic sense that makes no sense at all.

Behold - lo to the orient where the cowbells sing - and hence the cross might fall upwards and the tentacles brim - so the birds flutter and the drawbridges flown - at the Daybreaks' Disaster the minstrels sung! I have come, to attend the grave of my loved one - how shall I endure her loss? The magnificence of poetry so the poignant musings of prose could not compare to the weight of my sadness! I am lost, I am truly lost - indeed.



When I finally came to her grave, I totally forgotten what I should be doing. Everything was lost in my singing, poetry, and compilation of short prose. For the long ones, just remember to buy my book at amazon.com.

This is the end of my most emotional commercial ever.

I feel like laughing Assassin. You give me way too much credit.

That is an interesting perspective. Though I am convinced everything is written for me in an established universe thus making it easier to write, it may be hard to replicate exactly. In order to deal with that problem I would not stick too closely to the original material. Take my parody of Dawn of Dark's work which I consider my first true short story: the character's are the same, what they are remain the same but I changed their personalities and a bit of the plot.

I am not of the opinion that writing parodies or fanfiction is lazy. One needs to come up with ideas to develop plot and character. Even original material, more often than not are inspired from existing material which is why I am convinced that creativity is well-concealed plagiarism. The person who suggested that is also of the opinion that it is alright to write fanfiction. How does one reconcile that?

^ Assassin: Noted.

Parody of y00han's Entry: Not Anamnesis

The parts I liked about your entry are the references to the real world especially foreign and alien cultures. It is the same reason why I liked HumbugsAssociate's description of a funeral ceremony. Now, this parody will attempt to incorporate experiences that are unique in my part of the world written in the style that I prefer:

I am known in this corner of cyberspace as leonard267. I am young, impressionable, optimistic, full of youthful vigour and I am lying. I suppose any observer if polite, slimy and dishonest would say that I prefer a sedentary lifestyle, if objective (and rude) would say that I am a complete recluse who knows no other companion other than that near sentient monster created in the Computer Age known as a computer.

With the year end / early year monsoons wreaking havoc from where I come from, I tend to be stuck indoors to shield myself from the nasty elements of wind, rain and humidity. This means more opportunities to be further insulated from the real world than I am already am! It is in times like these, my mind begins to wander perhaps due to the claustrophobia caused by the four walls of my abode. That made me rather reflective on the not so close relationships I have had with some people, namely some woman, some old woman and some other man. If I had more semblance of a soul, I'd call them a female acquaintance of mine, my grandmother and my uncle. Since I am bored and I would like to bore you, the reader, let me go through my lack of a relationship with the three of them shall we?

Let me begin by talking about some woman also known as a female acquaintance of mine. We shared little to no similarities other than the fact that we reside in a structure that is best described as blocks of pre-fabricated concrete stacked on top of each other like toy bricks also known as a block, of flats. We are expected to live the entirety of our lives in these things. I am expected to build more of these things in the future to serve as enclosures for virtually every living anthropoid as a worker in the construction industry! It is difficult to engage in normal human interaction so I found myself only liking her only because she is a member of the opposite sex instead of the more proper things that would make a relationship work like liking her for reasons other than because she is a member of the opposite sex.

We were aware of each other's existence. She took an interest in me most likely because I looked like an alien to her, metaphorically because leonard267 behaves as if he is extraterrestrial being with no idea on how the world works, literally because when one's mental age is one digit long, one treats the opposite sex as if they are alien spawn. This will obviously disappoint the lecherous reader who have the unreasonable expectation of sexual tension between two adolescents but I took no action. Why the need to get to know her better if I am already comfortable with myself, my computer and my flat? When her parents decided to cash their flat to buy more valuable property to live in, (valuable property meaning yet another one of those bloody flats) she had to move with them. I did get the address and the phone number of their new abode which I lost barely a week later. Was she of any significance? Was the time spent thinking about this well spent? So pointless it was to ponder over these questions, I decided that I should spend time recollecting my relationship with someone supposedly closer.

My mother's mother looked every bit a man with her square face, short hair and deep voice. At least this was how I remembered her when I was an adolescent. However, just like the woman I spoke of just now, I failed to get close with her. Perhaps it was the lack of fascination with the elderly which took some time for me to develop by reading through events that have no relevance whatsoever to the present, also known as the past and buying into the myth that the past offers insight into the present and future. Perhaps it was the language barrier. She spoke a Chinese dialect that sounded like Indo-Chinese which I was taught to detest and with very good reason for that dialect was spoken widely amongst the uneducated and the uncouth; not to mention the schisms caused within the community due to their inability to adopt a common language. Those dialects were a very strong impediment to achieving that commonality of language so needed for a cohesive community.

She had lived through the Second World War, raised a family of nearly ten in the tough and austere times of the not-so-swinging Sixties in my part of the world, her children grew up and what was her reward? Burst blood vessels in her brain due to a fall in the toilet that rendered her an invalid when she was in her seventies. Poor woman had to spend the rest of life on a bed with tubes stuck into her nose whilst her large figure shrivelled into skin and bones. To further the rift between me and her, I went through puberty. This meant that I changed physically. I believe she remembered me a poorly behaved and spoilt runt but not a poorly behaved and spoilt bigger-sized runt. So, whenever I approached her, she could not recognise me. This went on until she kicked the bucket. One feels a sense of loss but it is far from devastating. I thought I can wallow in unpleasant feelings of devastation by thinking about the deaths that are much worse than old people dying or to be more specific thinking about dead young people.

The person in question was my mother's elder brother who is young being slightly over half a century old when he kicked the bucket. Like the young woman who did not die, we were aware of each other's existence. I had to put up with the occasional teasing from him because I looked a miniature version of a human being which was really funny in hindsight the older and more human being-ish I got. Alas, I was not close to him either. I point the finger of blame at the thirty kilometre distance between our homes and the pointlessness of visiting each other when we have more important things on our agenda like going to work.

I admire hardworking and simple men and women so embodied by my mother's elder brother. He was one of the very important frontline workers who make logistics work by transporting goods using large and hard to control automobiles powered by manual transmission also known as a truck. While it is hyperbole to say that operating a manual vehicle is heart-attacking inducing, I am afraid that was what happened to my dear mother's elder brother. There was great sense of loss only the regret that he could not live 50 years longer. From his passing, I have learnt to be very careful when handling those dangerous trucks, I have grasped the importance of taking medication if I am diagnosed with clogged arteries and I was given a painful reminder of how terrifying it is that heart failure appears to be a hereditary disease running in my mother's family.

Speaking about the lack of loss I feel about these three persons whom I ought to be close to might be indicative of my lack of humanity or my unlikely mastery of the ability to be stoic. This leads me to these questions to ascertain how I feel about these persons:

Do I harbour the desire to turn the clock back? In a way yes, but only because time travel is 'cool'.

Do I harbour the desire to turn myself in a spirit so that I could meet those people I am no longer in contact with? No, what for? I am quite happy to assume the form of flesh and blood.

Do I harbour the desire to use my experiences as an argument for anamnesis or the presence of spirits? This sounds like a leap of logic reminiscent of leonard267's monologues, especially when anamnesis is a poor explanation for why moral and social norms are similar across cultures. Of course not!

So what is the moral of the story then?

Parody of y00han's Entry: Not Anamnesis

The parts I liked about your entry are the references to the real world especially foreign and alien cultures. It is the same reason why I liked HumbugsAssociate's description of a funeral ceremony. Now, this parody will attempt to incorporate experiences that are unique in my part of the world written in the style that I prefer:

I am known in this corner of cyberspace as leonard267. I am young, impressionable, optimistic, full of youthful vigour and I am lying. I suppose any observer if polite, slimy and dishonest would say that I prefer a sedentary lifestyle, if objective (and rude) would say that I am a complete recluse who knows no other companion other than that near sentient monster created in the Computer Age known as a computer.

With the year end / early year monsoons wreaking havoc from where I come from, I tend to be stuck indoors to shield myself from the nasty elements of wind, rain and humidity. This means more opportunities to be further insulated from the real world than I am already am! It is in times like these, my mind begins to wander perhaps due to the claustrophobia caused by the four walls of my abode. That made me rather reflective on the not so close relationships I have had with some people, namely some woman, some old woman and some other man. If I had more semblance of a soul, I'd call them a female acquaintance of mine, my grandmother and my uncle. Since I am bored and I would like to bore you, the reader, let me go through my lack of a relationship with the three of them shall we?

Let me begin by talking about some woman also known as a female acquaintance of mine. We shared little to no similarities other than the fact that we reside in a structure that is best described as blocks of pre-fabricated concrete stacked on top of each other like toy bricks also known as a block, of flats. We are expected to live the entirety of our lives in these things. I am expected to build more of these things in the future to serve as enclosures for virtually every living anthropoid as a worker in the construction industry! It is difficult to engage in normal human interaction so I found myself only liking her only because she is a member of the opposite sex instead of the more proper things that would make a relationship work like liking her for reasons other than because she is a member of the opposite sex.

We were aware of each other's existence. She took an interest in me most likely because I looked like an alien to her, metaphorically because leonard267 behaves as if he is extraterrestrial being with no idea on how the world works, literally because when one's mental age is one digit long, one treats the opposite sex as if they are alien spawn. This will obviously disappoint the lecherous reader who have the unreasonable expectation of sexual tension between two adolescents but I took no action. Why the need to get to know her better if I am already comfortable with myself, my computer and my flat? When her parents decided to cash their flat to buy more valuable property to live in, (valuable property meaning yet another one of those bloody flats) she had to move with them. I did get the address and the phone number of their new abode which I lost barely a week later. Was she of any significance? Was the time spent thinking about this well spent? So pointless it was to ponder over these questions, I decided that I should spend time recollecting my relationship with someone supposedly closer.

My mother's mother looked every bit a man with her square face, short hair and deep voice. At least this was how I remembered her when I was an adolescent. However, just like the woman I spoke of just now, I failed to get close with her. Perhaps it was the lack of fascination with the elderly which took some time for me to develop by reading through events that have no relevance whatsoever to the present, also known as the past and buying into the myth that the past offers insight into the present and future. Perhaps it was the language barrier. She spoke a Chinese dialect that sounded like Indo-Chinese which I was taught to detest and with very good reason for that dialect was spoken widely amongst the uneducated and the uncouth; not to mention the schisms caused within the community due to their inability to adopt a common language. Those dialects were a very strong impediment to achieving that commonality of language so needed for a cohesive community.

She had lived through the Second World War, raised a family of nearly ten in the tough and austere times of the not-so-swinging Sixties in my part of the world, her children grew up and what was her reward? Burst blood vessels in her brain due to a fall in the toilet that rendered her an invalid when she was in her seventies. Poor woman had to spend the rest of life on a bed with tubes stuck into her nose whilst her large figure shrivelled into skin and bones. To further the rift between me and her, I went through puberty. This meant that I changed physically. I believe she remembered me a poorly behaved and spoilt runt but not a poorly behaved and spoilt bigger-sized runt. So, whenever I approached her, she could not recognise me. This went on until she kicked the bucket. One feels a sense of loss but it is far from devastating. I thought I can wallow in unpleasant feelings of devastation by thinking about the deaths that are much worse than old people dying or to be more specific thinking about dead young people.

The person in question was my mother's elder brother who is young being slightly over half a century old when he kicked the bucket. Like the young woman who did not die, we were aware of each other's existence. I had to put up with the occasional teasing from him because I looked a miniature version of a human being which was really funny in hindsight the older and more human being-ish I got. Alas, I was not close to him either. I point the finger of blame at the thirty kilometre distance between our homes and the pointlessness of visiting each other when we have more important things on our agenda like going to work.

I admire hardworking and simple men and women so embodied by my mother's elder brother. He was one of the very important frontline workers who make logistics work by transporting goods using large and hard to control automobiles powered by manual transmission also known as a truck. While it is hyperbole to say that operating a manual vehicle is heart-attacking inducing, I am afraid that was what happened to my dear mother's elder brother. There was no great sense of loss only the regret that he could not live 50 years longer. From his passing, I have learnt to be very careful when handling those dangerous trucks, I have grasped the importance of taking medication if I am diagnosed with clogged arteries and I was given a painful reminder of how terrifying it is that heart failure appears to be a hereditary disease running in my mother's family.

Speaking about the lack of loss I feel about these three persons whom I ought to be close to might be indicative of my lack of humanity or my unlikely mastery of the ability to be stoic. This leads me to these questions to ascertain how I feel about these persons:

Do I harbour the desire to turn the clock back? In a way yes, but only because time travel is 'cool'.

Do I harbour the desire to turn myself in a spirit so that I could meet those people I am no longer in contact with? No, what for? I am quite happy to assume the form of flesh and blood.

Do I harbour the desire to use my experiences as an argument for anamnesis or the presence of spirits? This sounds like a leap of logic reminiscent of leonard267's monologues, especially when anamnesis is a poor explanation for why moral and social norms are similar across cultures. Of course not!

So what is the moral of the story then?

General agreement with what you said, Chacal. In fact you will find me repeating your points.

"Terrible" is a bit subjective a word. A lot of people are of the opinion that anything I put down on paper is terrible. I supposed 'universally pilloried' are the words I would use.

If I did not put in enough effort or heart into what I write, I would feel ashamed. Not sure about you, Delbruck. As for me, opinion is divided on what I write. I think I write fanfiction because I do parodies. If people criticise it, I would not feel ashamed. I would defend my work.

I will say again that there is nothing wrong with fanfiction. I prefer it because it saves me the need to think of characters or a plot. All I need to do is to develop them. Do post your fanfiction here if you come up with one.

The woman in the profile picture looks skimpily dressed as of late. One can suppose that she is dressed to kill.

If every single word can be made into a post, chances are your goal of reaching 15000 notifications by the end of the month could be much closer. You may have a feeling of deja vu reading this though.

Parody of y00han's Entry: Not Anamnesis

The parts I liked about your entry are the references to the real world especially foreign and alien cultures. It is the same reason why I liked HumbugsAssociate's description of a funeral ceremony. Now, this parody will attempt to incorporate experiences that are unique in my part of the world written in the style that I prefer:

I am known in this corner of cyberspace as leonard267. I am young, impressionable, optimistic, full of youthful vigour and I am lying. I suppose any observer if polite, slimy and dishonest would say that I prefer a sedentary lifestyle, if objective (and rude) would say that I am a complete recluse who knows no other companion other than that near sentient monster created in the Computer Age known as a computer.

With the year end / early year monsoons wreaking havoc from where I come from, I tend to be stuck indoors to shield myself from the nasty elements of wind, rain and humidity. This means more opportunities to be further insulated from the real world than I am already am! It is in times like these, my mind begins to wander perhaps due to the claustrophobia caused by the four walls of my abode. That made me rather reflective on the not so close relationships I have had with some people, namely some woman, some old woman and some other man. If I had more semblance of a soul, I'd call them a female acquaintance of mine, my grandmother and my uncle. Since I am bored and I would like to bore you, the reader, let me go through my lack of a relationship with the three of them shall we?

Let me begin by talking about some woman also known as a female acquaintance of mine. We shared little to no similarities other than the fact that we reside in a structure that is best described as blocks of pre-fabricated concrete stacked on top of each other like toy bricks also known as a block, of flats. We are expected to live the entirety of our lives in these things. I am expected to build more of these things in the future to serve as enclosures for virtually every living anthropoid as a worker in the construction industry! It is difficult to engage in normal human interaction so I found myself only liking her only because she is a member of the opposite sex instead of the more proper things that would make a relationship work like liking her for reasons other than because she is a member of the opposite sex.

We were aware of each other's existence. She took an interest in me most likely because I looked like an alien to her, metaphorically because leonard267 behaves as if he is extraterrestrial being with no idea on how the world works, literally because when one's mental age is one digit long, one treats the opposite sex as if they are alien spawn. This will obviously disappoint the lecherous reader who have the unreasonable expectation of sexual tension between two adolescents but I took no action. Why the need to get to know her better if I am already comfortable with myself, my computer and my flat? When her parents decided to cash their flat to buy more valuable property to live in, (valuable property meaning yet another one of those bloody flats) she had to move with them. I did get the address and the phone number of their new abode which I lost barely a week later. Was she of any significance? Was the time spent thinking about this well spent? So pointless it was to ponder over these questions, I decided that I should spend time recollecting my relationship with someone supposedly closer.

My mother's mother looked every bit a man with her square face, short hair and deep voice. At least this was how I remembered her when I was an adolescent. However, just like the woman I spoke of just now, I failed to get close with her. Perhaps it was the lack of fascination with the elderly which took some time for me to develop by reading through events that have no relevance whatsoever to the present, also known as the past and buying into the myth that the past offers insight into the present and future. Perhaps it was the language barrier. She spoke a Chinese dialect that sounded like Indo-Chinese which I was taught to detest and with very good reason for that dialect was spoken widely amongst the uneducated and the uncouth; not to mention the schisms caused within the community due to their inability to adopt a common language. Those dialects were a very strong impediment to achieving that commonality of language so needed for a cohesive community.

She had lived through the Second World War, raised a family of nearly ten in the tough and austere times of the not-so-swinging Sixties in my part of the world, her children grew up and what was her reward? Burst blood vessels in her brain due to a fall in the toilet that rendered her an invalid when she was in her seventies. Poor woman had to spend the rest of life on a bed with tubes stuck into her nose whilst her large figure shrivelled into skin and bones. To further the rift between me and her, I went through puberty. This meant that I changed physically. I believe she remembered me a poorly behaved and spoilt runt but not a poorly behaved and spoilt bigger-sized runt. So, whenever I approached her, she could not recognise me. This went on until she kicked the bucket. One feels a sense of loss but it is far from devastating. I thought I can wallow in unpleasant feelings of devastation by thinking about the deaths that are much worse than old people dying or to be more specific thinking about dead young people.

The person in question was my mother's elder brother who is young being slightly over half a century old when he kicked the bucket. Like the young woman who did not die, we were aware of each other's existence. I had to put up with the occasional teasing from him because I looked a miniature version of a human being which was really funny in hindsight the older and more human being-ish I got. Alas, I was not close to him either. I point the finger of blame at the thirty kilometre distance between our homes and the pointlessness of visiting each other when we have more important things on our agenda like going to work.

I admire hardworking and simple men and women so embodied by my mother's elder brother. He was one of the very important frontline workers who make logistics work by transporting goods using large and hard to control automobiles powered by manual transmission also known as a truck. While it is hyperbole to say that operating a manual vehicle is heart-attacking inducing, I am afraid that was what happened to my dear mother's elder brother. There was great sense of loss only the regret that he could not live 50 years longer. From his passing, I have learnt to be very careful when handling those dangerous trucks, I have grasped the importance of taking medication if I am diagnosed with clogged arteries and I was given a painful reminder of how terrifying it is that heart failure appears to be a hereditary disease running in my mother's family.

Speaking about the lack of loss I feel about these three persons whom I ought to be close to might be indicative of my lack of humanity or my unlikely mastery of the ability to be stoic. This leads me to these questions to ascertain how I feel about these persons:

Do I harbour the desire to turn the clock back? In a way yes, but only because time travel is 'cool'.

Do I harbour the desire to turn myself in a spirit so that I could meet those people I am no longer in contact with? No, what for? I am quite happy to assume the form of flesh and blood.

Do I harbour the desire to use my experiences as an argument for anamnesis or the presence of spirits? This sounds like a leap of logic reminiscent of leonard267's monologues, especially when anamnesis is a poor explanation for why moral and social norms are similar across cultures. Of course not!

So what is the moral of the story then?

Each to his own; tears gush out of my tear ducts when I listen to this.

Do you have a sauce source for this? Would like to read more on that subject. Staves off boredom.

That said, can you confirm that our breed of apes can only dispel a few millilitres of that fluid at one time?

If every single word can be made into a post, chances are your goal of reaching 15000 notifications by the end of the month could be much closer. However since that can't be done, would you read me drafting a 1000 word composition?

Parody of y00han's Entry: Not Anamnesis

The parts I liked about your entry are the references to the real world especially foreign and alien cultures. It is the same reason why I liked HumbugsAssociate's description of a funeral ceremony. Now, this parody will attempt to incorporate experiences that are unique in my part of the world written in the style that I prefer:

I am known in this corner of cyberspace as leonard267. I am young, impressionable, optimistic, full of youthful vigour and I am lying. I suppose any observer if polite, slimy and dishonest would say that I prefer a sedentary lifestyle, if objective (and rude) would say that I am a complete recluse who knows no other companion other than that near sentient monster created in the Computer Age known as a computer.

With the year end / early year monsoons wreaking havoc from where I come from, I tend to be stuck indoors to shield myself from the nasty elements of wind, rain and humidity. This means more opportunities to be further insulated from the real world than I am already am! It is in times like these, my mind begins to wander perhaps due to the claustrophobia caused by the four walls of my abode. That made me rather reflective on the not so close relationships I have had with some people, namely some woman, some old woman and some other man. If I had more semblance of a soul, I'd call them a female acquaintance of mine, my grandmother and my uncle. Since I am bored and I would like to bore you, the reader, let me go through my lack of a relationship with the three of them shall we?

Let me begin by talking about some woman also known as a female acquaintance of mine. We shared little to no similarities other than the fact that we reside in a structure that is best described as blocks of pre-fabricated concrete stacked on top of each other like toy bricks also known as a block, of flats. We are expected to live the entirety of our lives in these things. I am expected to build more of these things in the future to serve as enclosures for virtually every living anthropoid as a worker in the construction industry! It is difficult to engage in normal human interaction so I found myself only liking her only because she is a member of the opposite sex instead of the more proper things that would make a relationship work like liking her for reasons other than because she is a member of the opposite sex.

We were aware of each other's existence. She took an interest in me most likely because I looked like an alien to her, metaphorically because leonard267 behaves as if he is extraterrestrial being with no idea on how the world works, literally because when one's mental age is one digit long, one treats the opposite sex as if they are alien spawn. This will obviously disappoint the lecherous reader who have the unreasonable expectation of sexual tension between two adolescents but I took no action. Why the need to get to know her better if I am already comfortable with myself, my computer and my flat? When her parents decided to cash their flat to buy more valuable property to live in, (valuable property meaning yet another one of those bloody flats) she had to move with them. I did get the address and the phone number of their new abode which I lost barely a week later. Was she of any significance? Was the time spent thinking about this well spent? So pointless it was to ponder over these questions, I decided that I should spend time recollecting my relationship with someone supposedly closer.

My mother's mother looked every bit a man with her square face, short hair and deep voice. At least this was how I remembered her when I was an adolescent. However, just like the woman I spoke of just now, I failed to get close with her. Perhaps it was the lack of fascination with the elderly which took some time for me to develop by reading through events that have no relevance whatsoever to the present, also known as the past and buying into the myth that the past offers insight into the present and future. Perhaps it was the language barrier. She spoke a Chinese dialect that sounded like Indo-Chinese which I was taught to detest and with very good reason for that dialect was spoken widely amongst the uneducated and the uncouth; not to mention the schisms caused within the community due to their inability to adopt a common language. Those dialects were a very strong impediment to achieving that commonality of language so needed for a cohesive community.

She had lived through the Second World War, raised a family of nearly ten in the tough and austere times of the not-so-swinging Sixties in my part of the world, her children grew up and what was her reward? Burst blood vessels in her brain due to a fall in the toilet that rendered her an invalid when she was in her seventies. Poor woman had to spend the rest of life on a bed with tubes stuck into her nose whilst her large figure shrivelled into skin and bones. To further the rift between me and her, I went through puberty. This meant that I changed physically. I believe she remembered me a poorly behaved and spoilt runt but not a poorly behaved and spoilt bigger-sized runt. So, whenever I approached her, she could not recognise me. This went on until she kicked the bucket. One feels a sense of loss but it is far from devastating. I thought I can wallow in unpleasant feelings of devastation by thinking about the deaths that are much worse than old people dying or to be more specific thinking about dead young people.

The person in question was my mother's elder brother who is young being slightly over half a century old when he kicked the bucket. Like the young woman who did not die,