Manhouse lives within himself

7.17.06
4:50 PM
dreadnought- n (1806) 1: a warm garment of thick cloth; also: the cloth 2: a battleship whose main armament consists of big guns of the same caliber.

I think the juxtaposition of the two definitions is awesome. Both are nouns and neither has ANYTHING to do with the other. In fact, I love the juxtaposition SO much, that I have been inspired to create a short play based on it…

Behold! The Dreadnoughts of North Hamptonshireworth! Fear! Fear and Distress Shall Ensue Because of Them!! Yaaaaaargh!!!
It is the late 1800’s and people are scared. Kid and Mumsy sit quietly on ottomans in a cozy 30-room mansion in the Southern tip of North Hamptonshireworth. Outside it is cold. Inside the room is filled with insect carcasses, canapés and enough assorted furniture to create dozens of shabby soft and hard sculptures. The wind is blowing. It is midnight. Kid speaks, shattering the silence as if with a metaphorical hammer…
Kid: Ahoy hoy Mumsy, I fancy your dreadnought.
Mumsy: To which dreadnought are you referring, you little accident, the one on my shoulders or the one that just wiped out the British Armada?
Kid: You are so cruel sometimes.
Mumsy: SUCK MY KISS!!!
(blistering bass solo)
Exeunt omnes, followed by a bear
Curtain

WOO! THEATRE!!!
Christina recently brought to my attention an effort by dumb fuckers to make the English language simpler in order to raise the literacy rate. As if all these retarded fucks were just waiting around for them to change “through” to “thru” to learn to read. I personally mourn the loss of all those u’s from “color”, “valor” and “harbor” (to name a few). I also don’t believe that something along the lines of “through” being spelled that way rather than “thru” is really messing that many people up. “Dang, ‘through’ has seven letters, not four. I give up on this whole reading thing.”
Brits and other UKers are appalled when they hear how we’ve fucked up the language, I wonder how they feel about things like Spanglish, Ebonics and (my favorite) Spebonics.
The entire Webster Family is spinning in their fucking mausoleum, and they are right to be.


7:40 PM
There is a patient here with a VERY Irish name. Since she arrived here she has received no less than one call a day from different people and sometimes four or five calls a day, and those are just the ones that contact her through the operator (because GASP, our phone system is shit). Every person I have spoken to has been very polite, very articulate and seemed genuinely concerned/interested to talk to the patient. They have also all been Irish to some extent. Ranging from Bostonian Irish to I-can’t-understand-what-you’re-saying-but-I’m-going-to-transfer-you-to-this-patient-simply-because-you-sound-so-Irish Irish. It always makes my day better to hear these wonderful Irish people with their warm, wonderful accent burring in my ear. It also makes my day to know there is at least one patient here who isn’t alone, mistreated and abandoned by their family. Makes me proud to be half-Irish and sort of makes me want to find out more about my (biological) Irish heritage.