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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in aphasic's athenaeum of illiteration

Disorder

I hate lists, but then we're all gonna die, so here one is in goriest carcinochrome...

I also hate:

bad grammar;
nail brushes that double as feather dusters;
contests, competitions, examinations & opera;
Madina Lake;
Zanu PF;
recreational drugs - they make me feel so good...
scrolling marquees;
perfect tits;
sheesh, feck, see you next Tuesday;
symmetry;
people who don't care about anyone but themselves;
people who don't care about me (and only me);
superstitions.

Footnote [trochee in Em]

To be honest, I'm lying. I don't hate all opera - generally it's the vocals and lyrics I can't handle; so, overtures are in, the rest is bizarre, and sometimes banal, though there are exceptions. I like that aria thing from Delibe's Lakmé, but hated the Malcolm McClaren version hijacked by BA. Is it good policy for airlines to hijack stuff?

I guess lists manifest themselves when one feels that there's fuck all to write about... 

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