The Official Random Thought Thread
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R>I>P
Bought a book on etiquette today at my school's book sale that was made in 1956.
My professor said "Now you can learn how to act when you're in a restaurant."
So I responded "Rule number 1, don't let the coloreds in."
Bad decision on my part as no matter how not-racist I am, there's no right way to translate such a joke to an audience of people who don't know me personally.
LOL
My professor said "Now you can learn how to act when you're in a restaurant."
So I responded "Rule number 1, don't let the coloreds in."
Bad decision on my part as no matter how not-racist I am, there's no right way to translate such a joke to an audience of people who don't know me personally.
LOL
Ode to Gotham City by L.D.S.
He's a phantom, a masked vigilante.
breaking faces at the speed of insanity
His alter is vanity, darkness true identity
Money is the one thing that is no object
The object of his affection the shiny obelisk
To count the nights, he needs no Calendar, Man,
or psychopath carving his skin, no Victor Zsasz
Alfred is his help, and more than a Pennyworth
makes sure there's no Poison in his IV, right-hand man
Funny, that's the hand The Joker offers him
sending electro-shock down his thick spine and
Titan toxin's flow from the squirting dandelion
Recon and hiding in the still of the night his specialty
A mere view of him in the noir casings of a windowsill
is resonant and brooding like a broken Scarecrow hiding,
or the first time a rooking on the beat sees him and screams
"MR! FREEZE!" as he takes down another perpetrator diving
at a lady and her gentleman as they walk the street
in the pale moonlight discussing all of life's mysteries
He seeks out all the Two-Faces of our modern society
and the deranged Hugo Strange's and Solomon Grundy's,
Headhunter's and Humpty Dumpty's, split personalities,
Ventriloquists, and their Scarface dummies.
He Hushes the evil people, the Harley's, Maxie Zeus',
Tweedle Dum's, and Tweedle Dee's.
He's no Killer, that's a Croc, but he is a Deadshot
when it comes to spotting Catwomen, Clayfaces,
and sonaring Black Mask's who Penguin he senses Anarky.
He's the Bane of their existence, the Dark Knight,
Billionaire Bruce Wayne, the one and only. . .
Batman, his presence an ode to Gotham City.
He's a phantom, a masked vigilante.
breaking faces at the speed of insanity
His alter is vanity, darkness true identity
Money is the one thing that is no object
The object of his affection the shiny obelisk
To count the nights, he needs no Calendar, Man,
or psychopath carving his skin, no Victor Zsasz
Alfred is his help, and more than a Pennyworth
makes sure there's no Poison in his IV, right-hand man
Funny, that's the hand The Joker offers him
sending electro-shock down his thick spine and
Titan toxin's flow from the squirting dandelion
Recon and hiding in the still of the night his specialty
A mere view of him in the noir casings of a windowsill
is resonant and brooding like a broken Scarecrow hiding,
or the first time a rooking on the beat sees him and screams
"MR! FREEZE!" as he takes down another perpetrator diving
at a lady and her gentleman as they walk the street
in the pale moonlight discussing all of life's mysteries
He seeks out all the Two-Faces of our modern society
and the deranged Hugo Strange's and Solomon Grundy's,
Headhunter's and Humpty Dumpty's, split personalities,
Ventriloquists, and their Scarface dummies.
He Hushes the evil people, the Harley's, Maxie Zeus',
Tweedle Dum's, and Tweedle Dee's.
He's no Killer, that's a Croc, but he is a Deadshot
when it comes to spotting Catwomen, Clayfaces,
and sonaring Black Mask's who Penguin he senses Anarky.
He's the Bane of their existence, the Dark Knight,
Billionaire Bruce Wayne, the one and only. . .
Batman, his presence an ode to Gotham City.
