Have at Thee Sir

Kevin the grey said:
Gonzo such vehemence . Does all that darkness come from your mind?
We are proud of our literary forbearers here. We often quote them.
yours almost sound like quotes or snippets taken from a missive.
It would be poor manners indeed not to quote them.
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The vehemence, kind sir, is but an act. :) In truth, I am mild-mannered, gentle-hearted, and a lover of nature and animals. A court jester with a warrior's love of the sword. And, were my words quotes, I would most certainly attribute them. However, and perhaps disturbingly, they are jumbled jargon from my own brain. A small door opens somewhere in the darkness of my mind and such things tumble forth.

Were I to quote a master, it might be as such:

I am going to be a storm-a flame-
I need to fight whole armies alone;
I have ten hearts; I have a hundred arms;
I feel too strong to war with mortals-
BRING ME GIANTS!


If only I could produce such prose.
Gonzo
 
Sir, woulds that we could share a dram that I might adore at the feet of a master. Though tangled your thoughts might be there is a certain base eloquence about them.

Kind? Soft hearted? Your words belie you Sir.
I do not begrudge you this as I suffer from duality myself.
Just the other day I thought I was wrong and I had to chastise myself for being in error.
 
BAM! one .45 round to the left. BAM! one .45 round to the right.

O.K. boys, lets go back in the Cantina and continue where we left off.......:D
 
Jurassic,

I bet your .45 has assisted you in ending the career of many a "fencer", as well as more than a few "fencing" establishments!

Tom
 
Tom, there was this guy with a tire iron who got to me on the inside.....took over 100 stiches, some inside, some out before things were sorted out. But "have at thee" only goes so far these days. I was in a foul mood yesturday :D and stooped to being a spoil sport. My appologies.....
 
Sir, think nothing of it. The jab is as welcome as I hope is the repartee. Rest assured we would make glad use of your hot lead as it whined by harmlessly into the night. It would merely suffice to whet both our interest and make keen our blades.

There is naught that your errant missives may instruct that a well placed blade could not teach.
 
Poor Showing

Tis true my words are poor,

Their lineage from hither and yon.

While you may not be in amour,

At least their authors not gone.

To others I give free rein,

Imagination is the horse that I ride.

I do not look down with disdain,

Their manners themselves they should chide.

Its unfortunate when others contrive,

that which is claimed in honour.

I look with derision on derived,

No shame sirs,that to your dishonour.

http://members.iconn.net/~gedney/randominsult.htm

Wow! To all worthy poets! Now we don,t have to have any imagination at all . The net will coddle us from cradle to grave with no need to think. I had heard of complex programs to generate the perfect song. It looks like those who step backwards in time may do so without tripping over truth in their way.

SALUTATIONS

I salute the worthy poet,

Whether insulting or as poor as myself.

What comes from within we know it,

for others it comes off the shelf.
 
Mike, you do me great honour.

Not the zombied part.

It is said to be a great you must be able to,

Make you laugh,

make you cry.

Make you sleep,

make you die.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

I often refer to Poe when speaking of great ability.

----To Edgar--------

At the core of his gift,

was the seeds of his madness.

Woulds that he could lift,

and fill you with gladness.

Alas and forsooth,

to tell the truth,

he was not so bad on his part.

There was no malice aforethought,

though his mind it do rot.

As evidenced by his Telltale Heart.
 
'Tis true, any addle-minded dunderpounce might use words produced by Merlin's black magic, but it gives greater warming of the heart, indeed, to dream devious dialogues and deliver them with personal care. To wit:

Knave, foolish knave...draw your sword and surely you shall die this day. Doest thou think thine title, bestowed upon you by blood, before even the eve of thine conception, will see thee to another sunrise? By the swift flash of sunlight on steel, the last sunlight of thine tragic days, I will deprive thee of title. My sword is no respecter of royalty. Gold and silver serve poorly as armor. Darkly does royal blood soak the ground, swiftly and darkly as common blood. So, draw your sword and end thine lineage.

Or, on a much more light-hearted note: :D

Thou, kind sir, art a swine of lowest lineage. The foul mud of the wallow still clings to your filthy hoof.
You bear a soul of tallow and a heart of brine.
You are an odious worm, slithered forth from the bowels of the rotting corpse of a coward, far from the steel of the field of battle.
Lilies compose your spine and a quivering spiderweb your heart!
Ne'er didst thou darken the battlefield with your blood, or even your shadow, for cowardice cannot carry beyond the ramparts and battlements of home.
Heavy is thine soul, for too heavy is the sword for thine hand. Whatever strength once was, now descended into the spiraling depths of fear and shame...strength no more. Armor, once worn by true and brave, meant to fend arrows and the stroke of steel, stands in a dark corner, fending naught but spiders and the flickering shadows of a fading home fire. As your armor remains unworn in the dark corners, so thine honor gathers dust as well. Your blood is not worthy of my sword. Your cowardice is undeserving of the touch of my dagger. You have not earned a death by steel.

With sweetest thoughts during the holidays,
Gonzo :)
 
Thou foul breathed punternod;
Thou simpleminded sufferer-of-fools;
Thou knobby-kneed ne'er-do-well;
Thou sodden simpering scullion;
Thou impudent fob;
Thou swag-belly hag;
Ruffian, rascal, and rotten are thou!

With deepest respect,
Gonzo

Or, as Edmond Rostand penned:
“Perish the Universe, provided I have my revenge.”

Perhaps my favorite...from "MacBeth" (the imortal bard never dies)
"You should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so."
 
It is ever Sir, the mark of the lesser to think that he must be more.
Vile dribble notwithstanding it is he who stands upon his own feet who is the truer man.
I have no need to call forth the works of others to bolster my own.
Nor do I need to malign to seem witty.
It is the poor man who must needs stand upon the neck of another to seem taller.
 
Kevin the grey said:
Nor do I need to malign to seem witty.
It is the poor man who must needs stand upon the neck of another to seem taller.
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Kind Kevin,
Truly, there was never any intent to malign and, if it seemed so, my most sincere apologies. Simply words for the joy of words. I'm quite sure you are a gentleman and a warrior in name and in heart, and none of my barbs were actually intended to land as true. 'Twas simply for the joy of the meeting of the steel. If insult entered the dwelling with me, then I humbly pull on my cloak and slip back into the night dragging insult with me as my unwelcome companion. Again, my sincere apologies if my jest seemed unduly harsh and appeared to be made from the heart...truly it was not.

From The Bard,
"Good name in man or woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewels of their souls;
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'twas mine, 'tis his; and has been slave to thousands.
but he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed."

Gonzo

PS - I would imagine that no person would enjoy having another stand upon their neck. It would be particularly uncomfortable to the "standee", were the "stander" to be wearing stiletto heels.
 
Sir calming words meant for receptive ears oft meet the barren ground of a troubled brow instead. I too revel in the clash of steels which may only serve to hone our skills.

It is the fathomless depth to the lakes of vitriol upon which you call that does not ring true . To twine foils with a master has long been my wont. In truth for wit to lie witless in obscurity is ever the craven course.

Let us call it a draw. I acquiesce to your skill in battle . It is evident you have learned from the greats. Please allow me to withdraw in honor to hone my skills for another day.

I wish I did have your cutting edge . There are many churlish souls I would banish to the ignominous ambiguity they deserve. I almost prefer to chide with humour. I find it harder for them to turn away the teeth of a smiling blade. There also may be the odd time I am in error and wound a fellow unjustly.it is easier to turn sorrow into laughter than an enemy into a friend.

Bard I am not as I think one must be with them to be like them. The Great Works of Shakespeare lie unread upon the shelf. I often pay them silent homage. It is my preference to delve within than ask that another divulge the mysteries to me. I may be wrong as I think Old Will disaproves. Oft I hear his bones rattle among the pages in unrestful slumber.
 
Kevin the grey said:
Let us call it a draw. I acquiesce to your skill in battle .
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In good concscience, sir, I cannot call this battle a draw. I must claim a victory...of sorts. In every lesson learned, in life or on the battlefied, there is victory. You, sir, have taught me a lesson this day. And so, though I withdraw bloody and beaten, I hold myself a victor just the same. I salute you sir and hasten the day that fate should allow me to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and oppose those evil forces that darken that day. Thanks to you sir!
Gonzo
PS - Kevin, I truly enjoyed it and hope you know no insult was intended.
 
jurassicnarc44 said:
Oh for the love of Mike, those were crosshairs!!!
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Ok, ok...so I prefer a Sig P220 to the broadsword for up-close-and-personal work and a Rock River M-4 over a long-bow for long-distance communication. Those tools, however, seemed undeserving of Kevin's words or attention. Such language calls for a quiver of arrows and and sharpened iron. Besides...do they make an ACOG for a long-bow?
Gonzo
 
TheGreatGonzo said:
Gonzo
PS - Kevin, I truly enjoyed it and hope you know no insult was intended.
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I never saw any harm in it per se except in the love of words for their own sake. The love of words may be akin to the love of money.

I prefer words for what they may bring to the world. The unhindered heights a well chosen phrase may bring us to. I cannot cast them forth without thought to their meaning. Words proffered merely for the love of sensation is similar to a miser stacking coins before himself merely to revel in them.

You are worth more than that.
 
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