Sunday, May 20, 2012

Hang on to Your Perennial Hy-britches, We're Goin' for a Ride!

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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