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Here is a collection of notes to various really, really obscure references and puns and other stuff in the essays that, if either of us had a life, I wouldn't be writing and you wouldn't be reading. -Enjoy! RHB |
| 1 In fact it got so bad that I started channeling D.H.Lawrence:
A squirrel came to my water trough on a cold, cold day and I in paja... Oh! No!-No!-No! Hold on; no it wasn’t a water trough (I don’t even own one); no it was my flat---my apartment---that it came to, and I couldn’t have been in 'paja...' anything as I had just come home from work; And now dammit, in what must be yet another side effect of PTSD, and I'd better stop before I move on to his lovely ladies' chatter.
2 I really screwed that up, for a more accurate rendering run your mouse over this 'ere piccy of Rowie's lug 'ole...  3 Well either that, or after all its cacus-eating and poke-receiving it needed a little lie down, and one thing just lead to another...
| | | 1 capriophagi: goat-eaters (Um... check out the title of the essay. Though I suppose, since in this instance the capriophagus was so spectacularly unsuccessful in his attempted act, it should be something like 'dyscapriophagi'. In the version I learnt as a child the troll sang: "I'm a Troll fol-de-rol, I'm a Troll fol-de-rol, I'm a Troll fol-de-rol and I'll eat you for my supper.")
Here follows the tale in the original Norwegian. I'm sure I don't need to translate it for someone like you! (Of course if you do happen to want some help with your Norwegian this is an hysterically funny computer translation---on which subject see my Keep those Imbeciles out of Sight. Here is a translation that's boringly accurate.
De tre bukkene Bruse som skulle gå til seters og gjøre seg fete
Det var engang tre bukker som skulle gå til seters og gjøre seg fete, og alle tre så hette de Bukken Bruse. På veien var det en bro over en foss, som de skulle over, og under den broen bodde et stort, fælt troll, med øyne som tinntallerkener, og nese så lang som et riveskaft.
Først så kom den yngste Bukken Bruse og skulle over broen.
Tripp trapp, tripp trapp, sa det i broen.
"Hvem er det som tripper på mi bru?" skrek trollet.
"Å, det er den minste Bukken Bruse; jeg skal til seters og gjøre meg fet," sa bukken, den var så fin i målet.
"Nå kommer jeg og tar deg," sa trollet.
"Å nei, ta ikke meg, for jeg er så liten jeg; bi bare litt, så kommer den mellomste Bukken Bruse, han er mye større."
"Ja nok," sa trollet.
Om en liten stund så kom den mellomste Bukken Bruse og skulle over broen.
Tripp trapp, tripp trapp, tripp trapp, sa det i broen.
"Hvem er det som tripper på mi bru?" skrek trollet.
"Å, det er den mellomste Bukken Bruse, som skal til seters og gjøre seg fet," sa bukken; den var ikke fin i målet, den.
"Nå kommer jeg og tar deg," sa trollet.
"Å nei, ta ikke meg, men bi litt, så kommer den store Bukken Bruse, han er mye, mye større."
"Ja nok da," sa trollet.
Rett som det var, så kom den store Bukken Bruse.
Tripp trapp, tripp trapp, tripp trapp, sa det i broen; den var så tung at broen både knaket og braket under den!
"Hvem er det som tramper på mi bru?" skrek trollet.
"Det er den store Bukken Bruse," sa bukken, den var så grov i målet.
"Nå kommer jeg og tar deg," skrek trollet.
"Ja, kom du! Jeg har to spjut, med dem skal jeg stinge dine øyne ut! Jeg har to store kampestene, med dem skal jeg knuse både marg og bene!"
sa bukken. Og så røk den på trollet og stakk ut øynene på ham, slo sund både marg og ben, og stanget ham utfor fossen; og så gikk den til seters. Der ble bukkene så fete, så fete at de nesten ikke orket å gå hjem igjen, og er ikke fettet gått av dem, så er de det ennå.
Og snipp snapp snute, her er det eventyret ute. | | | 1 Rowie Hrothers was named, by the way, for Mrs Vortigern. See here for an article on her---though I think they (spitefully??) turned the dental fricative into a dental plosive, Hrotwyn rather than Hroþwyn: 'Scum-joy' rather than 'Fame-joy'! The buggers! 2 Yes I know it's Luke who had the shepherds. Either it was a lapsus linguae (or more properly calami since I wrote it that way, or even more properly lapsus clavis, since I was typing rather than penning) or yet more evidence that I should have taken the hint of that lapsus discus durus* and left well alone.
* As it turned out, though it was hard it was not long-lasting!
| | | The title was appropriated with apologies to Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald (not to mention Rudolf Friml, Herbert Stothart, Otto Harbach and Oscar Hammerstein II, Rose and of course Marie)
1 John Milton. (1608–1674). Lycidas | | | | 1 I love that 'probably', it says everything about humanists---probably the least dogmatic people in the Universe | | | Again the horror comes---from lurking in the bowels of microslob it comes (and we all know what comes from bowels). It comes to ignore standards and...well to make a long story short, it comes to mess with my formatting. I refuse to kowtow to microsoft; so, Windoze Uzers, if you want to see this page formatted correctly I strongly recommend you eschew that disgusting Internet Expectorator that microslime tries to force down your gullet, spit it out, and get a decent browser like Firefox.
| | | The picture of the BK ad is not very good. I suspect they got wind of this essay, because as soon as I started writing it, they vanished from my TV screen and scampered, whimpering to hide behind the skirts of their whopping Dad. I was forced to capture a still from a rather low quality vid snatched by someone on YouTube.
The Germans and the eyebrow were made of sterner stuff, so I got a better image.
1 I Really did it as a penance for the guilty pleasure of having just re-read all of Thomas Love Peacock's delightfully intellectual novels, to adjust the balance of my intellect back to neutral.
2 BK text from the web
Whopper Jr.: "Let's go take 'em out, yeah?"
Chicken Crisp: "Yeah."
Whopper Jr.: "We've got business to handle!"
Whopper Jr.: "Hey, can I - can I get a Whopper Jr., please?"
Wendy's Speaker: "This is - this is not Burger King. That's at Burger King. Sorry."
Whopper Jr.: "Can I get some flame-broiled beef, please? Got any of that?"
Wendy's Speaker: "Uh, we don't do that here."
Wendy's Speaker: "Do you want a sour cream and chive potato?"
Whopper Jr.: "A baked potat- a baked pota- are we in Russia?
3 I know the Reich didn't officially become Großdeutsches until ten years after VW started, but it was all the same guys, so cut me some slack here---I mean I've just been watching ads for you. | |
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