Reading other threads on immigration I would bet that there are a lot of people here on TV that don't believe this is an April fool Joke.

As mere farang encased in this mass of blood and bone called a "body", without liberties to ensconce immerse my emotions in such liberal talk it is a no go zone.

Would the title of this thread need to be re-titled as an English language tuition and appropriately put in the teaching English teaching forum?

You had me for a moment.

As mere farang encased in this mass of blood and bone called a "body", without liberties to ensconce immerse my emotions in such liberal talk it is a no go zone.

Would the title of this thread need to be re-titled as an English language tuition and appropriately put in the teaching English teaching forum?

Don't yew go pickin on Orang37 ! ! ! ! He bee dee one dat rote de tax struction manuel

Edited April 3, 201313 yr by ThePunPun

Sawasdee Khrup, Khun Ticketmaster,

"For those of you not familiar with Thai insults: the word "goo" is an extremely deprecatory personal pronoun which is an absolute face-breaker of the eighth-degree; if you were to use this in conversation, it could well get you immediately involved in mayhem."

That is an accurate statement. It does not state whether the Thai word is a first-person, or second-person, pronoun.

I chose the first-person pronoun, rather than its second-person complement, for no particular reason other than contrarian whimsy: I liked the ridiculous idea of a Thai using the phrase with other Thais; and, that is not inconsistent with my experience of forms of humor, and word-play, that Thais use with other Thais ... as patiently ... kind of ... explained to me by Thais, at times; I think there are insanely few farangs who have any ability to actually sense, in the moment, the richness of word-play, punning, and recursiveness, enabled by the tones' pluriverse of meanings per syllable, possible in Thai humor ... I certainly don't claim the human being inside us can grasp that, but I suspect the Orangutan inside us can).

I suspect you may be the only reader of my attempt at satire who came across the many 'give-aways' scattered through it like piles of kee maa on a Thai soi: who stopped at the first stinking pile, stuck your nose in it, and lingered there, inhaling deeply, and. then, went home in a tizzy, complaining it didn't smell like Chanel #5.

The fact that you apparently read it literally, and were quite excited by it, evinced in the lingering diligence with which you, slowly, perform vivisection, I attribute to your erotic fetish for the rear-ends of motorcycles of larger size, which I specifically mention, as clearly in evidence, here, by your personal picture used in your posts.

Thus, one might hypothesize: what appears on the surface as grammarian fastidiousness, taken to a length that suggests compulsive-obsessive disorder, may simply be a result of the inner compulsion to put the lid of denial on the intolerable cloying sweetness in the onset of even a vague conscious taste of your own paraphilia, which had a libidinal effect on your subconscious equivalent to yaa baa.

But, not to worry: "We all have our erotomanias, our phantasms and basilisks, who stalk the underground chambers of subterranean Eros' camouflaged palace, ready: to transfix us with a baleful stare, that may trigger either: rage's hurricano; or, erotic obsession's maelstrom. We all have our cacti in the gardens of memory, which, when we walk into them, while playing blind-man's bluff with ourselves, pierce us to the quick, crumbling the catafalques ... erected at such vast psychic expense ... that support the caskets of entombed trauma, which breaking open, reveal for an intolerably stinking eternity of a moment what we cannot bear to relive, or remember." [1]

Have a nice day

yours, ~o:37;

[1] Quotation from a story by the human component within this (human) body.

Edited April 3, 201313 yr by orang37

Khun Fcgprg wrote: "(bored) or should that be BORN??."

Sawasdee Khrup, Khun Fcgprg,

I can't speak for you, for which I am grateful, but, I know that from the moment of my first breath, I was bored.

In answer to the profoundly timeless metaphysical conundrum you express so eloquently behind a tantalizing veil of allusions: "What time does the hilarity stop?:" I am struck blind, and dumb, unable to know if it's high-noon, or midnight, unable to distinguish if I am convulsed with laughter, or experiencing symptoms of cardiac arrest.

yours, ~o:37;

Sawasdee Khrup, Khun Ticketmaster,

"For those of you not familiar with Thai insults: the word "goo" is an extremely deprecatory personal pronoun which is an absolute face-breaker of the eighth-degree; if you were to use this in conversation, it could well get you immediately involved in mayhem."

That is an accurate statement. It does not state whether the Thai word is a first-person, or second-person, pronoun.

I chose the first-person pronoun, rather than its second-person complement, for no particular reason other than contrarian whimsy: I liked the ridiculous idea of a Thai using the phrase with other Thais; and, that is not inconsistent with my experience of forms of humor, and word-play, that Thais use with other Thais ... as patiently ... kind of ... explained to me by Thais, at times; I think there are insanely few farangs who have any ability to actually sense, in the moment, the richness of word-play, punning, and recursiveness, enabled by the tones' pluriverse of meanings per syllable, possible in Thai humor ... I certainly don't claim the human being inside us can grasp that, but I suspect the Orangutan inside us can).

I suspect you may be the only reader of my attempt at satire who came across the many 'give-aways' scattered through it like piles of kee maa on a Thai soi: who stopped at the first stinking pile, stuck your nose in it, and lingered there, inhaling deeply, and. then, went home in a tizzy, complaining it didn't smell like Chanel #5.

The fact that you apparently read it literally, and were quite excited by it, evinced in the lingering diligence with which you, slowly, perform vivisection, I attribute to your erotic fetish for the rear-ends of motorcycles of larger size, which I specifically mention, as clearly in evidence, here, by your personal picture used in your posts.

Thus, one might hypothesize: what appears on the surface as grammarian fastidiousness, taken to a length that suggests compulsive-obsessive disorder, may simply be a result of the inner compulsion to put the lid of denial on the intolerable cloying sweetness in the onset of even a vague conscious taste of your own paraphilia, which had a libidinal effect on your subconscious equivalent to yaa baa.

But, not to worry: "We all have our erotomanias, our phantasms and basilisks, who stalk the underground chambers of subterranean Eros' camouflaged palace, ready: to transfix us with a baleful stare, that may trigger either: rage's hurricano; or, erotic obsession's maelstrom. We all have our cacti in the gardens of memory, which, when we walk into them, while playing blind-man's bluff with ourselves, pierce us to the quick, crumbling the catafalques ... erected at such vast psychic expense ... that support the caskets of entombed trauma, which breaking open, reveal for an intolerably stinking eternity of a moment what we cannot bear to relive, or remember." [1]

Have a nice day

yours, ~o:37;

[1] Quotation from a story by the human component within this (human) body.

I almost envy Ticketmaster. How rare it is to be so magnificently and exquisitely insulted.

T

I almost envy Ticketmaster. How rare it is to be so magnificently and exquisitely insulted.

T

He has earned his place in the sun through hard work and dedication. Chapeau!

Sawasdee Khrup, Khun Ticketmaster,

"For those of you not familiar with Thai insults: the word "goo" is an extremely deprecatory personal pronoun which is an absolute face-breaker of the eighth-degree; if you were to use this in conversation, it could well get you immediately involved in mayhem."

That is an accurate statement. It does not state whether the Thai word is a first-person, or second-person, pronoun.

I chose the first-person pronoun, rather than its second-person complement, for no particular reason other than contrarian whimsy: I liked the ridiculous idea of a Thai using the phrase with other Thais; and, that is not inconsistent with my experience of forms of humor, and word-play, that Thais use with other Thais ... as patiently ... kind of ... explained to me by Thais, at times; I think there are insanely few farangs who have any ability to actually sense, in the moment, the richness of word-play, punning, and recursiveness, enabled by the tones' pluriverse of meanings per syllable, possible in Thai humor ... I certainly don't claim the human being inside us can grasp that, but I suspect the Orangutan inside us can).

I suspect you may be the only reader of my attempt at satire who came across the many 'give-aways' scattered through it like piles of kee maa on a Thai soi: who stopped at the first stinking pile, stuck your nose in it, and lingered there, inhaling deeply, and. then, went home in a tizzy, complaining it didn't smell like Chanel #5.

The fact that you apparently read it literally, and were quite excited by it, evinced in the lingering diligence with which you, slowly, perform vivisection, I attribute to your erotic fetish for the rear-ends of motorcycles of larger size, which I specifically mention, as clearly in evidence, here, by your personal picture used in your posts.

Thus, one might hypothesize: what appears on the surface as grammarian fastidiousness, taken to a length that suggests compulsive-obsessive disorder, may simply be a result of the inner compulsion to put the lid of denial on the intolerable cloying sweetness in the onset of even a vague conscious taste of your own paraphilia, which had a libidinal effect on your subconscious equivalent to yaa baa.

But, not to worry: "We all have our erotomanias, our phantasms and basilisks, who stalk the underground chambers of subterranean Eros' camouflaged palace, ready: to transfix us with a baleful stare, that may trigger either: rage's hurricano; or, erotic obsession's maelstrom. We all have our cacti in the gardens of memory, which, when we walk into them, while playing blind-man's bluff with ourselves, pierce us to the quick, crumbling the catafalques ... erected at such vast psychic expense ... that support the caskets of entombed trauma, which breaking open, reveal for an intolerably stinking eternity of a moment what we cannot bear to relive, or remember." [1]

Have a nice day

yours, ~o:37;

[1] Quotation from a story by the human component within this (human) body.

Good God! I'm holding up a mirror to reflect back your comment. Please read it and apply it to yourself. You need to relax!

You did say "goo farang," as if describing the program, which is NOT first person. My comment was only for the purpose of the edifying those who might be misled by your misuse of the word. After all, most of us do like to learn the "bad words."

Sawasdee Khrup, Khun Ticketmaster,

"For those of you not familiar with Thai insults: the word "goo" is an extremely deprecatory personal pronoun which is an absolute face-breaker of the eighth-degree; if you were to use this in conversation, it could well get you immediately involved in mayhem."

That is an accurate statement. It does not state whether the Thai word is a first-person, or second-person, pronoun.

I chose the first-person pronoun, rather than its second-person complement, for no particular reason other than contrarian whimsy: I liked the ridiculous idea of a Thai using the phrase with other Thais; and, that is not inconsistent with my experience of forms of humor, and word-play, that Thais use with other Thais ... as patiently ... kind of ... explained to me by Thais, at times; I think there are insanely few farangs who have any ability to actually sense, in the moment, the richness of word-play, punning, and recursiveness, enabled by the tones' pluriverse of meanings per syllable, possible in Thai humor ... I certainly don't claim the human being inside us can grasp that, but I suspect the Orangutan inside us can).

I suspect you may be the only reader of my attempt at satire who came across the many 'give-aways' scattered through it like piles of kee maa on a Thai soi: who stopped at the first stinking pile, stuck your nose in it, and lingered there, inhaling deeply, and. then, went home in a tizzy, complaining it didn't smell like Chanel #5.

The fact that you apparently read it literally, and were quite excited by it, evinced in the lingering diligence with which you, slowly, perform vivisection, I attribute to your erotic fetish for the rear-ends of motorcycles of larger size, which I specifically mention, as clearly in evidence, here, by your personal picture used in your posts.

Thus, one might hypothesize: what appears on the surface as grammarian fastidiousness, taken to a length that suggests compulsive-obsessive disorder, may simply be a result of the inner compulsion to put the lid of denial on the intolerable cloying sweetness in the onset of even a vague conscious taste of your own paraphilia, which had a libidinal effect on your subconscious equivalent to yaa baa.

But, not to worry: "We all have our erotomanias, our phantasms and basilisks, who stalk the underground chambers of subterranean Eros' camouflaged palace, ready: to transfix us with a baleful stare, that may trigger either: rage's hurricano; or, erotic obsession's maelstrom. We all have our cacti in the gardens of memory, which, when we walk into them, while playing blind-man's bluff with ourselves, pierce us to the quick, crumbling the catafalques ... erected at such vast psychic expense ... that support the caskets of entombed trauma, which breaking open, reveal for an intolerably stinking eternity of a moment what we cannot bear to relive, or remember." [1]

Have a nice day

yours, ~o:37;

[1] Quotation from a story by the human component within this (human) body.

I almost envy Ticketmaster. How rare it is to be so magnificently and exquisitely insulted.

T

Your envy is well placed. I have not felt so very important and at such a center of attention in many long months. I am still bathing in the exquisite warmth.

Sawasdee Khrup, Khun Ticketmaster, "For those of you not familiar with Thai insults: the word "goo" is an extremely deprecatory personal pronoun which is an absolute face-breaker of the eighth-degree; if you were to use this in conversation, it could well get you immediately involved in mayhem." That is an accurate statement. It does not state whether the Thai word is a first-person, or second-person, pronoun. I chose the first-person pronoun, rather than its second-person complement, for no particular reason other than contrarian whimsy: I liked the ridiculous idea of a Thai using the phrase with other Thais; and, that is not inconsistent with my experience of forms of humor, and word-play, that Thais use with other Thais ... as patiently ... kind of ... explained to me by Thais, at times; I think there are insanely few farangs who have any ability to actually sense, in the moment, the richness of word-play, punning, and recursiveness, enabled by the tones' pluriverse of meanings per syllable, possible in Thai humor ... I certainly don't claim the human being inside us can grasp that, but I suspect the Orangutan inside us can). I suspect you may be the only reader of my attempt at satire who came across the many 'give-aways' scattered through it like piles of kee maa on a Thai soi: who stopped at the first stinking pile, stuck your nose in it, and lingered there, inhaling deeply, and. then, went home in a tizzy, complaining it didn't smell like Chanel #5. The fact that you apparently read it literally, and were quite excited by it, evinced in the lingering diligence with which you, slowly, perform vivisection, I attribute to your erotic fetish for the rear-ends of motorcycles of larger size, which I specifically mention, as clearly in evidence, here, by your personal picture used in your posts. Thus, one might hypothesize: what appears on the surface as grammarian fastidiousness, taken to a length that suggests compulsive-obsessive disorder, may simply be a result of the inner compulsion to put the lid of denial on the intolerable cloying sweetness in the onset of even a vague conscious taste of your own paraphilia, which had a libidinal effect on your subconscious equivalent to yaa baa. But, not to worry: "We all have our erotomanias, our phantasms and basilisks, who stalk the underground chambers of subterranean Eros' camouflaged palace, ready: to transfix us with a baleful stare, that may trigger either: rage's hurricano; or, erotic obsession's maelstrom. We all have our cacti in the gardens of memory, which, when we walk into them, while playing blind-man's bluff with ourselves, pierce us to the quick, crumbling the catafalques ... erected at such vast psychic expense ... that support the caskets of entombed trauma, which breaking open, reveal for an intolerably stinking eternity of a moment what we cannot bear to relive, or remember." [1] Have a nice day yours, ~o:37; [1] Quotation from a story by the human component within this (human) body.

I almost envy Ticketmaster. How rare it is to be so magnificently and exquisitely insulted. T

Your envy is well placed. I have not felt so very important and at such a center of attention in many long months. I am still bathing in the exquisite warmth.

I did say "almost" - which means "not quite"

T

2 off topic posts removed

I must say this...... my envy for Orang37 is the greatest.......two great minds are better than one, until, that is, they are combined into one.....

Sawasdee Khrup, Khun Ticketmaster,

"For those of you not familiar with Thai insults: the word "goo" is an extremely deprecatory personal pronoun which is an absolute face-breaker of the eighth-degree; if you were to use this in conversation, it could well get you immediately involved in mayhem."

That is an accurate statement. It does not state whether the Thai word is a first-person, or second-person, pronoun.

I chose the first-person pronoun, rather than its second-person complement, for no particular reason other than contrarian whimsy: I liked the ridiculous idea of a Thai using the phrase with other Thais; and, that is not inconsistent with my experience of forms of humor, and word-play, that Thais use with other Thais ... as patiently ... kind of ... explained to me by Thais, at times; I think there are insanely few farangs who have any ability to actually sense, in the moment, the richness of word-play, punning, and recursiveness, enabled by the tones' pluriverse of meanings per syllable, possible in Thai humor ... I certainly don't claim the human being inside us can grasp that, but I suspect the Orangutan inside us can).

I suspect you may be the only reader of my attempt at satire who came across the many 'give-aways' scattered through it like piles of kee maa on a Thai soi: who stopped at the first stinking pile, stuck your nose in it, and lingered there, inhaling deeply, and. then, went home in a tizzy, complaining it didn't smell like Chanel #5.

The fact that you apparently read it literally, and were quite excited by it, evinced in the lingering diligence with which you, slowly, perform vivisection, I attribute to your erotic fetish for the rear-ends of motorcycles of larger size, which I specifically mention, as clearly in evidence, here, by your personal picture used in your posts.

Thus, one might hypothesize: what appears on the surface as grammarian fastidiousness, taken to a length that suggests compulsive-obsessive disorder, may simply be a result of the inner compulsion to put the lid of denial on the intolerable cloying sweetness in the onset of even a vague conscious taste of your own paraphilia, which had a libidinal effect on your subconscious equivalent to yaa baa.

But, not to worry: "We all have our erotomanias, our phantasms and basilisks, who stalk the underground chambers of subterranean Eros' camouflaged palace, ready: to transfix us with a baleful stare, that may trigger either: rage's hurricano; or, erotic obsession's maelstrom. We all have our cacti in the gardens of memory, which, when we walk into them, while playing blind-man's bluff with ourselves, pierce us to the quick, crumbling the catafalques ... erected at such vast psychic expense ... that support the caskets of entombed trauma, which breaking open, reveal for an intolerably stinking eternity of a moment what we cannot bear to relive, or remember." [1]

Have a nice day

yours, ~o:37;

[1] Quotation from a story by the human component within this (human) body.

I almost envy Ticketmaster. How rare it is to be so magnificently and exquisitely insulted.

T

Wodehouse lives!

This thread has become boring to me . . . bye!

Sawasdee Khrup, Khun Ticketmaster,

<snip>

I suspect you may be the only reader of my attempt at satire who came across the many 'give-aways' scattered through it like piles of kee maa on a Thai soi: who stopped at the first stinking pile, stuck your nose in it, and lingered there, inhaling deeply, and. then, went home in a tizzy, complaining it didn't smell like Chanel #5.

<snip>

Have a nice day

yours, ~o:37;

[1] Quotation from a story by the human component within this (human) body.

I almost envy Ticketmaster. How rare it is to be so magnificently and exquisitely insulted.

T

Wodehouse lives!

Woodhouse? I was aiming for Oscar Wilde.

I was reading a website on made-up Oscar Wilde quotes:

“A man can't be too careful in his choice of enemas.”

~ Oscar Wilde

"Some day, mankind will send various objects into a dark, airless places without it being a double entendre."

~Oscar Wilde on space travel

T

This thread has become boring to me . . . bye!

Sawasdee Khrup Khun Rasseru,

You may not read this (and, this offer may be void in your state) since you are now "gone:" but, I just want you to know it was thrilling to have had you.

To use the dying Humphrey Bogart's last words (as reported by his wife, Lauren Bacall): "men over 40 should spend at least 10 minutes daily admiring breasts sized D-cup or larger." http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/health/doctors-say-looking-busty-women-1107578 ... oh ... sorry, wrong forum ... anyway Bogart's words were: "Goodbye kid, hurry back."

yours, ~o:37;