Comments on: The Rite Of The Lie

By: problemchildbride

problemchildbride — Thu, 12 Apr 2007 05:39:01 +0000

Aw shucks, Brianf, you’ve gone and made me go all blushy. I’ve been and dribbled in your comment box. I’m sure a bit of Oxyclean will get the stain out. Thanks for stopping by!

By: Brianf

Brianf — Thu, 12 Apr 2007 01:16:16 +0000

Wow!!!
I popped over here to say Thank You for your intelligent thoughts and words over at Bocks place but then lo I find this. What a great read!!!
I’ll be back more often.
Thanks again.

By: problemchildbride

problemchildbride — Thu, 12 Apr 2007 00:24:45 +0000

Sparra’, she’s the granny of Religion.

By: Fat Sparrow

Fat Sparrow — Thu, 12 Apr 2007 00:03:10 +0000

“Death is the mother of beauty.”

I thought death is the mother of religion?

By: problemchildbride

problemchildbride — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 23:15:36 +0000

Kara, word.

By: Kara

Kara — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 22:46:36 +0000

The eggs are up. I think you know what I mean.

Now enough with the pressure!

By: problemchildbride

problemchildbride — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 21:37:57 +0000

Knuds, My pulse quickened and it took only as long as the speed of the human motor-neuron to click over to yours, where not only do I not find Mr Alan Splendid Rickman, I find you to be a most cruel fibber. I won’t forget this, Knudsen!

DC Warmington, in Lewis, we not only embroider dull reality, we knit, weave and crochet it, holding together our fabrications with a running tacking stitch, for easy dissembly (Pun! A poor one, it’s true, but puntheless, a none!). I love what your grandfather said. He must have been a great grandpa.

By: D. C. Warmington

D. C. Warmington — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 20:04:12 +0000

The Irish (with whom I share some ancestry and this trait) regard it as their duty to embroider dull reality. My maternal grandfather saw himself not so much as mendacious, but as “an author who has never had my books published”. The lies you speak of are not politicians’ lies, but are more real than the truth. Anyone who knows how to read good fiction knows it’s all much truer than it would be if some poetical soul hadn’t made it up.

The only exception is of course Mr Knudsen (see above), who finds poetry in reality and has never once been known to bear false witness ‘pon his blog.

By: old knudsen

old knudsen — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 19:15:33 +0000

I have no time for liars as they say things that are not true, see how I summed them up? I will not sensationalise my blog by making stuff up, oh theres a picture of Alan Rickman from that porno he made in the 80’s up on my blog right now, hey that fella works out.

By: problemchildbride

problemchildbride — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 17:35:13 +0000

Bocks, go raibh maith agut, a’ghraidh
See! See how I learn! Just last week I’d have said tapadh leat, and not be ordering Spanish bar nibbles.

Hi Caro, welcome! There aren’t enough lies in my story. Even in a story about lying it is only the shining golden truth that is spaketh here. I will track down anyone who disagrees and send them rudely-shaped potatoes incessantly. Thanks for stopping by and commenting. I loves it when people do.

Pat, in the trenches of marriage, I don’t think that would be considered a black-hearted lie. To me, what you describe is much more of a strategic manoeuvre, necessary to the forward movement of the unit – the chopping back of old growth to make room for newer shoots and suits. Madame, you are a fine general!

Lady D, I have it on good authority that our Bock looks mighty fine in his dipthongs. If you tell him your knees are Guinnessy though, he might not progress much further, if you know what I mean.
Mercy bowcups, m’darling!
A prototype Peigi-Morag bobble-head is in the works as we speak.