Cracker: Of Tweets and Twats
165 Responses
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A c***t he may not be, but please do kindly spell his name correctly. It's Lhaws, and how many times do I have to tell you?
Okay, carry on.
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and it's Whankernui, coz they elected one.
Also, I reckon Veitch's witterings amounted to a mea minima culpa.
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Rubbish. Michael Laws is not a cunt. A cunt is a multi-functional, yet aesthetically pleasing, orifice that has brought much harmless pleasure into the world. Laws is none of the above.
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The blubbery one's glorious estimation of his own talents is surely one of the funniest things about him.
After reading the DHC column, I had to go and look, and he's still the kind of fool you laugh at , not with .
He really cannot write, and he has the self-awareness of a concrete bollard.
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that has brought much harmless pleasure into the world.
Not to mention several billion human beings!
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He really cannot write, and he has the self-awareness of a concrete bollard.
That's a bit harsh on the Reserve Bank... their press releases aren't that bad.
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it was definitely that C word I had intended to use (rather than the one that ends in a k)
Thanks for clarifying. :)
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Rubbish. Michael Laws is not a cunt. A cunt is a multi-functional, yet aesthetically pleasing, orifice that has brought much harmless pleasure into the world. Laws is none of the above.
Love. You.
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Eddie, sure you're not thinking of the relatively more abstract bollard?
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Okay, I googled, and ended up at Forbidden Love, Part VII:
Damion carried Christie deeper and deeper into the forest, making sure to leave Chris far behind them. He finally came to a clearing, and if Christie hadn’t been so shocked by the argument that she had just witnessed, she would have recognized the clearing as the same one that Damion had taken her to on their first date.
Damion lay Christie on the ground, saying very quietly and calmly, “Now, Christie, I know you probably want to run right now, but please just hear me out first.”
...
Damion sighed with relief, then said, “Well, if you really want to know, if you did tell anyone, or even let the secret slip, then your memory, along with the person’s you tell, would be permanently erased of me and…I would be executed.” Damion said the last few words in a mere whisper.
Christie was taken aback at this information. Wow, the vamps really want to keep this on the own low, she thought. She then moved closer to Damion and kissed his cheek, causing him to blush slightly. “Then I guess I won’t be telling this story any time soon,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine losing you, or having you…” she couldn’t even make herself say the last part, so she resulted in kissing him again, this time on the lips.
Damion smiled away from the kiss, then said, “Christie, I’m so glad that I’ve found someone as special as you. No one has ever been so accepting to what I am. I hope that it stays this way forever,”
“Me too, Damion,” Christie replied.
~
Through the trees next to them, Christie and Damion were unaware that they were being watched. Chris ducked behind the greenery that surrounded him, watching the couple with a look of pure jealously and hatred. Hope all you want you filthy demon, Chris thought; referring to Damion’s statement. But like it or not, this is not over. Christie will be mine, and if you think that this is the end, you’re very, very wrong. I’m going to turn your world upside-down. And with a quick rustle of leaves and branches, he was gone.
Did I take a wrong turn somewhere on the information highway?
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Oh DamiEn!
Thank Christ. Chapter VIII of that story was really getting bad!
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Dear Kyle. Took me til the first pronoun to realise Christie was a girl, and it was a shock.
I can actually picture Michael Lhaws sitting at his desk after a hard day, writing turgid soft-core.
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I can actually picture Michael Lhaws sitting at his desk after a hard day, writing turgid soft-core.
I wish you had kept that to yourself.
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I dare say none of these people know who you are, or what effect you claim to have had on them.
A trophy case, god god this bloke's deluded. There's clutch of bloggers whose fame is self-referentially amplified but still inaudible to the rest of the world. Wail oil would be a better moniker.
Lhaws is a reprehensible git that not even Whanganui deserved. Levin, that'd make sense. But yeah, I agree, his piece wasn't bad though I'm less forgiving.
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Paul, like a callow lump of tallow, they tend to call call him Whaleblubber.
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I can actually picture Michael Lhaws sitting at his desk after a hard day, writing turgid soft-core.
I'm impressed that you brought the thread to an even lower level than I had managed. Truly talented you are.
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Doesn't the "h" attach to the "w" in whanganui, rather than the "a"?
In which case he'd be Lawhs. Potentially pronounced "laffs". Which is a whole nother layer of amusing.
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Oh, yes, please Lawhs. Lhove it.
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I wish you had kept that to yourself.
I promise you, Paul, this won't be the last time you think that.
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Wow, freelancer in "having an opinion" scandal.
Remember when Pam Corkery lost some broadcasting gig she had for calling the PM, Geoffrey Palmer, a "drongo"? Gasp! (If only there'd been outraged bloggers back in those days.)
Anyone with half a brain could see, looking at @damianchristie 's Twitter feed, that he was just not using it much, not getting into it with the enthusiasm that others do (Nothing wrong with that!), so when he called it a day, it wasn't a great shock, nor did it seem that he was pushed.
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Your quote is missing some ellipses. Here, let me help you.
... Michael Lhaws ... hard... turgid ... soft...
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Anyone with half a brain could see, looking at @damianchristie 's Twitter feed...
You've just cited the problem, Robyn. If you donated a couple of neurons to The Blubbering One, they could at least keep themselves company. If you donated only one it would be cruelty, as the poor thing would get lonely.
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Okay, I googled, and ended up at Forbidden Love, Part VII
That, Kyle, is the funniest thing to have happened here in a long time. Love it.
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Doesn't the "h" attach to the "w" in whanganui, rather than the "a"?
Thank the dear sweet lord: I finally get the Lhaws joke. I was keeping my obtuseness on the DL for weeks ('open your mouth and remove all doubt', etc), hoping that something would make it clear to me. Yay.
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And sorry to puncture WailOily's delusions, but I think there's been some real virtual scalp collecting going on in old Blighty. Cheese and crackers, talk about a self-inflicted cluster fuck...
(Oh, and am I the only person who thinks calling an anti-Tory slag site 'Red Rag' is almost, but not quite as unfortunately google-licious as tea-bagging the White House. Try it. I dare you.)
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