Showing posts with label Edward Field. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edward Field. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

CURSES!

Do you know anyone who lives in South Carolina?  If so, be prepared to take in refugees. This story from Feminist Law Professors will appeal to your inner George Carlin:

South Carolina State Senator Robert Ford is 
trying to outlaw lewd language and profanity

According to the language of the bill:  “It is unlawful for a person in a public forum or place of public accommodation wilfully and knowingly to publish orally or in writing, exhibit, or otherwise make available material containing words, language, or actions of a profane, vulgar, lewd, lascivious, or indecent nature.”

So shut up and don’t call attention to your wedgie in public.  In the Peoples Republic of South Chinalina, it will be considered a felony, resulting in a fine of up to $5,000 or a prison term of up to five years, or both.

The language is overly broad ... the mentality miniscule.  If you hit your thumb with a hammer, make sure you say “ouch” because if you say “$hit” in front of a witness, you have committed a felony. Bible thumpers of the Bible belt beware! Strip Tear out the Songs of Solomon before you give, lend, or sell any Bible to any person. Even the “Word of God” may be considered profane and illegal. And why send juvenile offenders to prison?  Just build a jail around the entire high school.

While pondering the latest WTF, this may be my last opportunity (if I were living in South Chinalina) to quote this poem:

Graffiti

Blessings on all the kids who improve the signs in the subways:
They put a beard on the fashionable lady selling soap,
Fix up her flat chest with the boobies of a chorus girl,
And though her hips be wrapped like a mummy
They draw a hairy cunt where she should have one.

The bathing beauty who looks pleased
With the enormous prick in her mouth declares,
"Eat hair pie; it's better than cornflakes."'
And the little boy in the Tarzan suit eating white bread
Now has a fine pair of balls to crow about.

And as often as you wash the walls and put up your posters,
When you go back to the caged booth to deal out change
The bright-eyed kids will come with grubby hands.
Even if you watch, you cannot watch them all the time,
And while you are dreaming, if you have dreams anymore,

A boy and girl are giggling behind an iron pillar;
And although the train pulls in and takes them on their way
Into a winter that will freeze them forever,
They leave behind a wall scrawled all over with flowers
That shoot great drops of gism through the sky.

Poems Old and New