Monday, September 25, 2006

Heavy-haired brother

I'm just critiquing the writing; I'm not a bad person.

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8 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

you're mocking stories about someone who committed suicide! good thing you left your name off this after all..

4:57 PM  
Blogger AHFB said...

I'm not mocking what happened; I'm pointing out the writing's shortcomings and horrible disjointed, disconnected way that the story is told.

5:35 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You did only critique the writing.
It's a terribly written story.
Just because the subject matter is sad doesn't make it less of a piece of crap.

12:42 AM  
Anonymous Julie said...

Didja notice the typo -- I hope it was a typo -- in the song lyrics? The warm smell of "colitis"?

10:39 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm totally cracking up on the colitis thing--inflammation of the colon! Is she hinting that everyone in the car had wicked gas?

Colitas, from strightdope.com:
By and by a denizen of soc.culture.spain wrote: "Colitas is 'little tails,' but here the author is referring to 'colas,' the tip of a marijuana branch, where it is more potent and with more sap (said to be the best part of the leaves)." We knew with an instant shock of certainty that this was the correct interpretation. The Eagles, with the prescience given only to true artists, were touting the virtues of high-quality industrial hemp! And to think some people thought this song was about drugs.

From Eagles management honcho Irving Azoff: "In response to your [recent] memo, in 1976, during the writing of the song 'Hotel California' by Messrs. Henley and Frey, the word `colitas' was translated for them by their Mexican-American road manager as 'little buds.' You have obviously already done the necessary extrapolation. Thank you for your inquiry."

7:58 PM  
Blogger AHFB said...

Oh man I had no idea, thats hilarious--good catch.

8:10 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hmm.I think this one should have been left alone.

10:57 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

How would you like someone to "critique" (read: mock) everything you ever tried to write, including drafts and narratives about your brother committing suicide? How well do you think you could live up to someone else's derision on the internet? These papers were obviously not meant for publication; to treat them as such is just mean.

11:27 PM  

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