another pack of buzzing valent clones
wham bam thank you ma'am muse time leaning kismet asteroid millennial earth icecaps melting apocalypse anti-christ imam

your own

that's how I feel about sharkey.toe right now

Am still much
in the metaphor of that gigantic mass of monstrous flesh tiburón tiburón

that horrifying picture sharkey-toes pasted together
n o

yet the moment remains

yet the moment remains

I decide I must translate and write his horrible words so you may read them yourself
actually his words aint so bad compared to that monstrous miscarriage of justice he pasted together
that picture

his words are just very old whine whine whine
compared to that picture

proof that a thousand words are called for to equal one little image             one big image...

sharkeytoes published the diatribe in his blog, one of several he publishes under the group names of sharkeytoes this or that or the other (I still ain't gonna speak his real pseudonym blogname)

sharkeytoes published the diatribe with the date of Wednesday, November 29, 2006

today I'll only tell you the title
he called the text

EVEN WITH THE PISSPOT
POETICAL DIARRHEA OF ACANTHUS & LAUREL
[OR THE OXYMORON IN THE ASS OF AAAAAA MMMMMMM]

followed by (apparently) a subtitle

SERPENTS WHICH CARESS EACH OTHER

N.B.: (AAAAAA MMMMMMM) is the name of my friend whose face he pasted onto the derriere of etc.

no more today. I'll tell you more next time. Eventually I will have told you enough to reverse engineer the spanish words and google the original text. Some of you already know the writer.

Oh, if you write us and ask I will certainly tell you, person to person. But not here, not on this open page, not yet. I ain't doing him the favor of any links nor names. Strategy is denial of access. Denial of access to sharkeytoe's page is vindictive angry strategy within the parliament of birds. Squawk squawk squawk screech. We are still quite pissed about what he did with that picture. As you read more of his words (translated) you will understand more about whine whine whine both ours and his.

Okay, okay, here's one more little taste from the text of his very old whine

...the ideology of friendship as conscience of falsehood and false consciousness, is asimilated very well by the human collection which swells up in the dominion of "Acanthus and Laurel"; that class of friendship, that perverse compact, lapel-turner of lies, of fraudulent and chalatanesque complicity — which sees merit where there is none — joined together with sticking-plaster between its big and little members; like bread and wine, underwear and crap. A common place, an obvious truth. And now we shall see why.

It goes on. I will gradually be translating more and more of it here in my diary@blog pages so you may enjoy his delicious poison pen and see why I admire and despise. Such a waste of talent. How desperately familiar it is. It is, for now, a run-at-the-mouth delight to know I have appropriately titled my blog! Heh. Diary@ in.deed. Amen.

I'ld really like to eventually make a piñata in the shape of Sharkeytoes and fill it up with candies wrapped in special, chosen words of his, i.e. Sharkeytoes' writing, so we fraudulent and complicitous friends can all get together and smash the papier-machet sculpture and then eat him alive. Heh. I've often wondered if the popularity of piñatas in Mexico has something to do with human sacrifice. Eat your heart out.

I first heard about this writing, this piece of vitriolic abuse pretending-to-be-criticism, sometime before Christmas, from some of my lapel turning partners and associates in the pisspot of Acanthus and Laurel. But my friends in the group did not talk about it much at all — having better things to chat about the few times we met — and I remained mostly ignorant of what, exactly, they were talking about. I only recall them asking me if I'd read it, then dropping the subject when I said I hadn't.

I do remember that AAAAA was angry, yes, I remember that once, during the reading of the 8 December in the Dandy del Sur cantina, she growled something about photographs, but, because of her reluctance to discuss the horror of what he had done to her face, I didn't fully understand the magnitude of his graphic crimes, and we all had much better things to deal with that night. Drinking and socializing and reading and listening to each other. Just as/like Sharkeytoes had so prophetically meowed and mewled, it was a night we all got together to swap lies and kiss each other's big sweet cheeks. We would not waste time chewing his fat. So I had no inkling of the full horror of what Sharkeytoes had said, or, worse, what he had graphically done.

Well... anyway, so how did I come to this text now, almost three months after it was published?

Well, It wasn't until the first days of this month (February 2007), after I had begun to rebuild my own collapsed website, this one right here you're reading now recovering from the masturhackerbate attacks of January. It wasn't until then, a week or two ago while I was doing some background research on the appearances and links and search-engine listings of my pages and names, then it was that I stumbled sideways onto that abusive text by Sharkey about the poetry group I have been reading with for coming into two years now. Stumbled onto the text because he has my name in it as one of the usual suspects. I am, honestly, honored. Not by him. But to be listed by him amongst the other serpents, my friends.

And to know, that in the old style of ART, and the fact that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, well, our group of poets has been catapulted into a new stratosphere of success by his desperate abuse. This is proof of our divinity. We are not just lying serpents, we are flying sacred snakes of hot shit! Holy cow! Thank you, Sharkeytoes, you have no idea how much more credibility you have given us, by denouncing us. To be worthy of such monstrous abuse, is to be worthy.

But of course this is ironic. And so is that.

And so is this.

That it could be so.