Independence Day 2010
Labels: H, Versity Training
Redefining misanthropy for a fresh generation. Standard posts begin with a definition from Ambrose Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary followed by a modern adjustment. Miscellany on Wednesday and storytelling on Saturday.
Labels: H, Versity Training

Labels: Fiction, Story, Wolfshausen
He has so hard-and-fast a gripThat nothing from his fist can slip.Well-buttered eels you might find o'erwhelmIn tubs of liquid slippery elmIn vain-from his detaining cinchThey could not struggle half an inch.'Tis lucky that he so is plannedHis breath he draws not with his hand,For, if he did, so great his greedHe'd draw his last with eager speed.Nay, that were well, you say. Not so-He'd draw but never let it go.
Labels: L, Versity Training
Labels: Fiction, Story, Wolfshausen
Son of ten fathers! would you sport a crestTo honor one, ignoring all the rest.The one who in his life you did disgraceBy taking on his name without his face?His crest? The only one he knew, poor fool,Adorned the dunce-cap that he wore at school.Go paint a dandelion and a ragUpon your panels, and then gravely bragAbout their origin- how every panelProves that the founder of your line was Dan'l,Who, cast among the lions' growling pack,Contemptuously turned on them his back;But one presuming brute, tradition teaches,Tore with his tooth the seat of Dan'l's breeches.'Twas thus the dent de lion and the ragBecame the arms of that illustrious wag.And ever since each male of Dan'l's line,Yourself included, as a pious signAnd token of his Scriptural descent,Has worn a rag protruding from a rent.
There is a land of pure delight,2010 Update: A craftsman working in the arts of others.
Beyond the Jordan's flood,
Where saints, apparelled all in white,
Fling back the critic's mud.
And as he legs it through the skies,
His pelt a sable hue,
He sorrows sore to recognize
The missiles that he threw.
—Orrin Goof
Labels: H, Versity Training

Labels: Fiction, Story, Wolfshausen
Labels: N, Versity Training


Labels: Fiction, Story, Wolfshausen
Once upon a time, a thane of Scotland established by way of Frankalmoigne a monastery upon a rocky crest. The abbot, also a Scot, promised vigorous prayer by the brothers for the "Wee" of the thane's house and descendents. And so it was henceforth until a grandson of the original thane, during a down-market in wool, replaced the monks' annual shipment of lamb with fleece.The thane, then an old man, came into the great hall one evening to put out the torches only to find his grandson lying murdered amid the monks."Och!" cried the donor, "Ye merdurin' rapscallions! me purr wee grandson! I'll gae nothin' fuir his hide and tallow! Yuir sappose ta be prayin' fuir his soul!""Indeed we were," explained the abbot, "fervently, but we know how you and the almighty despise excess."
Homecoming weekend, the brass trombones blare
Listen now, children, for the sake of your sanityLabels: A, Deep Springs, Versity Training
Labels: Deep Springs, F, Wordbook