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Profile Of A Dork.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Gumby Gets Revenge



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Monday, July 17, 2006

My favourite piece of literature of all time....


The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
First Published in 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."
'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,"
'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you."
Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,Lenore?,
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,"Lenore!"
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore."
'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!
"Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

Oh and Gabe....

I never said the world revolves around me, what a terribly untrue thing to say =P

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Smart ass ;)
Love ya!

I'm so happy....

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Isn't my smile infectious??

Dear World, Phuk You
Nothings ever been easy, life can be such a tattle.
From one downer to the next, its an ongoing battle.
Somedays it feels impossible, its a struggle to even get out of bed.
Everything feels too much, as a constant reminder of the life I have led.
I feel totally lost, staying sane has left me numb.
And as time moves forward I realise how I must succumb.
No one really believes in me, and to those who pretended, phuk you.
At the end of the day you don't understand anything I've been through.
As the breakdwns occur less frequently, I'm still forever lost in fear.
But after all the years of deceit, its hard not to shed an occasional tear.
It burns from inside, and one day the world will finally see.
The unneccessary pain I took on, and the wounded child that became me.
From the outside it may look fine, as simplistic as a four-leaf clover.
But underneath its bubbling, as the pain soon brims over.
I have always felt alone, so phuk everyone who doubted me.
I don't care what it is you assholes fail to see.
But I'm still standing, now and at the end of each day.
Words used to crush me, now I don't give a phuk what you say.
Every day would feel the same, too empty, too long.
But with every passing downfall, it makes me realise I am strong.
Too all of you who never stuck by me, stab me in the back you may.
Because in the end I'm still standing, and I probably never liked you anyway.
Any questions?

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

www.eddiemustdie

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Above we have an untouched, very realistic Eddie McGuire with one of his many cocksucking boyfriends at some lame ass party and totally off his face. The reason for this post is not so much to bag Eddie, which is quite unnecessary when he just makes it so damn easy, but more to simply make it clear why my blog is known as "eddiemustdie".

Genius 3.3%
Imbecile 94.1%
Unsure 2.6%
Edward Joseph McGuire IS and probably always will be Australias gross national product and the most overused television personality to date.
Thankyou.
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Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Map the Miner

A short while ago some little bastards, probably from Adelaide no doubt, vandalised Map the Miner by setting the poor fellow ablaze. At around 5:30 am a passing motorist on his way into the little town saw the giant fibreglass statue alight and alerted the CFS.
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The small town was left shocked and distraught, with no indication as to what possessed the "hoodlums" to attack Mr Map. Upon seeing the burnt miner in person it almost makes you cry....and then you remember people relate the huge miner to the big Pineapple and don't feel quite so bad.
Thankfully they've found a way to fix the $100,000.00 miner.
Just a reminder of what a fucked and hellish world this truly has become. Enjoy!
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