Don't quit your day job :)
Posted on 09/05/2015 8:33:12 PM PDT by Lazamataz
fhayek and I both noticed that the opuses that are being created lately, frankly, suck. We want to have this thread available so that people can practice their opuses, so when they finally leave Free Republic, they can do so with style.
Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.
Don't quit your day job :)
Don't quit your day job :)
You must be a mean person. I think that gave me astigmatism, and you probably have a future with a some liberal publications, and maybe as a democrat politician. Hilary is probably green with envy.
After reading the first one, I can easily read this one.
Your prose style here is prolix and edges upon purplish
Brevity is still the soul of wit young sir
Kindly meant, kindly sent
So, who and what do you support or do you just like to whine?
But you went back and looked, dint ya!??? Dint ya?!!!
she does seem to have that effect
I’m not about to waste hours writing an opus, so I borrowed this from Shakespeare. It’s about burying some Caesar dude who got stabbed pretty good by his homies. Is that okay for an opus? I added obligatory exclamation points.
Amici et Quirites prolesque Iuli , aures praebete;
Veni ad Caesarem sepeliendum, non ad laudandum!!
Maleficia superstites maleficis,
Beneficia una cum ossibus eorum humata sunt!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fiat sic Caesari. Brutus ille nobilis
Vobis dixit Caesarem avidum esse;
Quod si verum esset, grave esset crimen,
Cuius poenas graviter persolvit!!!!!
Hic Bruto ceterisque permittentibus,—
Qui enim vir honestus est;
Sic honesti sunt hi viri omnes,—
Veni ut funere Caesaris contioner!
Ille mihi erat amicus, mihi fidelis et aequus:
Quem vero vocavit Brutus avidum;
Et Brutus vir honestus est!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Multos captivos Romam duxit,
Quorum redemptiones aerarium impleverunt:
Num videtur Caesar ob hoc avidus?
Cum pauperes ploraverunt, flevit Caesar;
Aviditatem materiae durioris oportet esse.
Brutus autem illum avidum esse dicit.
Et Brutus vir honestus est!?!@!!!
"Dear Reader (if there are any of you left), Well, if this is the conservative movement now, I guess you’re going to have to count me out.[...]
Karl Marx coined the term lumpenproletariat to describe working-class people who could never relinquish their class consciousness and embrace the idea of a classless socialist society. Hence, they were useless to the revolutionary cause. I’m no Marxist, so I don’t buy the idea that anybody — never mind a whole class of people — are beyond persuasion. But I am tempted to believe that Donald Trump’s biggest fans are not to be relied upon in the conservative cause. I have hope they will come to their senses. But it’s possible they won’t. And if the conservative movement and the Republican party allow themselves to be corrupted by this flim-flammery, then so be it. My job will be harder, my career will suffer, and I’ll be ideologically homeless (though hardly alone). That’s not so scary. Conservatism began in the wilderness and maybe, like the Hebrews, it would return from it stronger and ready to rule. But I’m not leaving without a fight. If my side loses that fight, all I ask is you stop calling the Trumpian cargo cult “conservative” and maybe stop the movement long enough for me to get off."
Laz, no true epic at FR is complete w/out a reference to preaching to the “eschoir” and/or “classy” rainbow colored lettering...
Me I’ll prob never opus out, just descend into my gravitas (by forgetting my password one last time w/a device change...)
Carry on.
Way to go Laz, Ted Kaczynski must be seething with envy right now.
Ted Kaczynski always seeths with envy.
Can we let the Plane land?
Hello Boys,
did You miss Me?
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
DON’T LET THE PLANE LAND!!!!
I think OWK was one of the very first opii. Am I right?Well, I came on board in July 1998 and he was here at the time. I believe though, that sometime before 2000 he was gone.
He's the first "big" OPUS I remember, but there could have been others I was not following.
Formatting is your friend. As is spelling. Opus’s, not including those written while drunk or written under duress or delirium, should be formatted. This will allow the reader to give the due respect the opus deserves.
Two young Californians, known later as Omar Ravenhurst and Malaclypse the Younger, were indulging in their habit of sipping coffee at an allnight bowling alley and generally solving the world's problems. This particular evening the main subject of discussion was discord and they were complaining to each other of the personal confusion they felt in their respective lives. "Solve the problem of discord," said one, "and all other problems will vanish." "Indeed," said the other, "chaos and strife are the roots of all confusion."
The two were dazed and neither moved nor spoke for several minutes. They looked around and saw that the bowlers were frozen like statues in a variety of comic positions, and that a bowling ball was steadfastly anchored to the floor only inches from the pins that it had been sent to scatter. The two looked at each other, totally unable to account for the phenomenon. The condition was one of suspension, and one noticed that the clock had stopped.
There walked into the room a chimpanzee, shaggy and grey about the muzzle, yet upright to his full five feet, and poised with natural majesty. He carried a scroll and walked to the young men.
"Gentlemen," he said, "why does Pickering's Moon go about in reverse orbit? Gentlemen, there are nipples on your chests; do you give milk? And what, pray tell, Gentlemen, is to be done about Heisenberg's Law?" He paused. "SOMEBODY HAD TO PUT ALL OF THIS CONFUSION HERE!"
And with that he revealed his scroll. It was a diagram, like a yin- yang with a pentagon on one side and an apple on the other. And then he exploded and the two lost consciousness.
They discussed their strange encounter and reconstructed from memory the chimpanzee's diagram. Over the next five days they searched libraries to find the significance of it, but were disappointed to uncover only references to Taoism, the Korean flag, and Technocracy. It was not until they traced the Greek writing on the apple that they discovered the ancient Goddess known to the Greeks as Eris and to the Romans as Discordia. This was on the fifth night, and when they slept that night each had a vivid dream of a splendid woman whose eyes were as soft as feather and as deep as eternity itself, and whose body was the spectacular dance of atoms and universes. Pyrotechnics of pure energy formed her flowing hair, and rainbows manifested and dissolved as she spoke in a warm and gentle voice:
I have come to tell you that you are free. Many ages ago, My consciousness left man, that he might develop himself. I return to find this development approaching completion, but hindered by fear and by misunderstanding.
You have built for yourselves psychic suits of armor, and clad in them, your vision is restricted, your movements are clumsy and painful, your skin is bruised, and your spirit is broiled in the sun.
I am chaos. I am the substance from which your artists and scientists build rhythms. I am the spirit with which your children and clowns laugh in happy anarchy. I am chaos. I am alive, and I tell you that you are free.
During the next months they studied philosophies and theologies, and learned that Eris or Discordia was primarily feared by the ancients as being disruptive. Indeed, the very concept of chaos was still considered equivalent to strife and treated as a negative. "No wonder things are all screwed up," they concluded, "they have got it all backwards." They found that the principle of disorder was every much as significant as the principle of order.
With this in mind, they studied the strange yin-yang. During a meditation one afternoon, a voice came to them:
It is called the Sacred Chao. I appoint you Keepers of It. Therein you will find anything you like. Speak of Me as Discord, to show contrast to the pentagon. Tell constricted mankind that there are no rules, unless they choose to invent rules. Keep close the words of Syadasti: 'TIS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NO MINDS. And remember that there is no tyranny in the State of Confusion. For further information, consult your pineal gland.
"What is this?" mumbled one to the other, "A religion based on The Goddess of Confusion? It is utter madness!"
And with those words, each looked at the other in absolute awe. Omar began to giggle. Mal began to laugh. Omar began to jump up and down. Mal was hooting and hollering to beat all hell. And amid squeals of mirth and with tears on their cheeks, each appointed the other to be high priest of his own madness, and together they declared themselves to be a society of Discordia, for what ever that may turn out to be.
"There are trivial truths & there are great truths. The opposite of a trivial truth is plainly false. The opposite of a great truth is also true."-Neils Bohr
"Did you know that there is a million bucks hidden in the house next door?" "But there is no house next door." "No? Then let's go build one!"-MARX
Fnords ->:
Momomoto, Famous Japanese, can swallow his nose.
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