This blog's url is named after the following quote from famed tweeter and
poet, Patricia Lockwood:
Why bring them together — the
poem and the joke, or the joke and the prophecy? The hybrid is compelling, always and perennially. It’s the desire to make fucked-up dog breeds that live
longer than either of their incest parents. Or if they don’t live longer, they
breathe weird and are illegal. Both outcomes are interesting.
I’m always looking for new little sarcastickies, which we’ll say is a
word for new layers of sarcasm or sarcasm spawns, you know, new ways to breed
sarcasm for the sole purpose of involving as many layers of sarcasm as possible
into an observation. In the past few years twitter and blogs have been fertile
with incredible new ways for us to be sarcastic with each other. To comment [preposition] and laugh [sexy
preposition] each other. [Choose your own adventure with porny figures of
speech. It’s the new frontier after “50 shades of grammatical decay,” a
chicklit novel that appeals to the fetishes of female fascist grammar nazis who
like it ALL: on the period, in the colon, AND during the fucking comma chameleon. *Hyperbo-jizz.*] Online expression knows
all the most appropriate ways to exercise the political aspects of metafiction.
By appropriate I mean timely, not appropriate. I’m totally gay for online
expression. We’re all gay for it. Because it opens up the back corridors of our
creativities [that was cheap and homophobic but genuine without the metaphor.]
Lockwood hits it right on the head. The hybrid of the joke, the poem,
and the prophecy is, while fucked up, strangely organic in a way that ideas haven't ever been before, and on the internet
there are so many ways to complete that hybrid and give it an audience. We’re
birthing fucked-up dog breeds all over the damn puppy htm-mills! And even
though, for example, languages of certain favorited twitter feeds or blogs are
not part of like the national dog language of “NORMAL,” “NON-MIXED” dogs, (I’m
lookin’ at you, Golden Over-Retriever who only uses the internet to read his email, or something), weirdo languages are quickly picked up and recognized and become
delicious kool-aid for people who just wanna fucking laugh with each other,
because humor and the understanding of it are both moving at the speed of…
well, however long it takes people to want to be in on something incredible.
On all this aforementioned stuff, I declare: I would love nothing more
than to put my two cents away in a piggy bank so my piggy bank isn’t empty…
piggy banks look better when they make coin music, and also, what can you buy
these days with two cents anymore? Candy bars are definitely at least 10 cents, right? [Payday reference is pun-like in nature.]
Love, Sarah
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