Zirealism

We apologize for the inconvenience.

"You may be a lubber, but you ain't no clam, Sir."

I've got blisters on me fingers.

Hoist more canvas and batten down the mizzen mast.

Wouldn't the floor be the canvas, and movement the brushstrokes? Sigh. I've said it before and I'll say it agian: democracy doesn't work.

Well, Jesse Ventura was democratically elected, and the World Wrestling Federation has canvas floors. Those guys use eachother for paint brushes, and big erasers.

... Never take a break dancer to the prom.

In the words of pinky: That's just weird, brain.
Don't ask me why I was even thinking about pinky.

and the toilet is my dance floor

fruit roll-ups are my ballet
and synchronized swimming is my teddy grahams

now i'm really confused

..i am not a number, i am a free man.

once, in grade nine or ten foods class (one of the eight times i took it, as it was the only applied skill worth taking, i had it at least twice a year, sometimes more) we had a substitute teacher who was speaking on the subject of being a chef, and she claimed that "food was litereally the canvas on which a chef paints," which, in a sense, is correct but, knowing the teacher in question, i doubt she knew this and was simply being stupid.

too many commas, too lazy to make sure that any are properly used.

please correct my foolish spelling error. thank you.
-a concerned reader

Please correct my stuff for content.

i remember as a kid a TV show was like "so and so's grandfather was so and so... so golfing is LITERALLY in his blood." my dad flipped out and ranted for like 10 minutes, how the heck can GOLF be IN someone's blood etc. it was my first exposure to the joys of pedantic fury, now my favorite emotion.

Actually, I would let that one slide. There are two ways to use "in his blood":

1. A vague meaning of a natural ability.

2. A specific reference to an ability that is passed down from one generation to another.

Since, the commentator is taking the meaning from 1 to 2, he *is* making it more literal, even though the end result still cannot be considered literal, per se. This is a much better use than using "literally" merely as an intensifier which literally gets my goat.

baaaaaaa

Perhaps it was in his years as a frat boy, he was strapped down whilst a golf ball was pestle and mortar'd into a fine power, then heated in alcohol until it disolved then injected into his blood stream.

Technically tho I guess its probably been removed by the body already, so maybe he liked it so much he secretly injects powdered disolved golf ball into his arm, just waiting for the next hit. In between the 15 minutes of extacie he awaits for his next shot, the depression threatens to overwhelm him, he looks to the sky swearing under his breath at the grey clouds as they colour the world in their drab hues.
A scraping sound is heard, the gentle sqeeking as he rub's a golf ball to dust with his marble tools. The sound of a match struck, Gas ignites. He adjusts his Bunsen to a blue flame making a violent hissing noise.
He grumbles under his breath three words repeated over and over, as he pours the golf ball dust into a beaker and adds to it the solute of 1-1-1 Tri-Ethelene Glycol.
He places the beaker on a tripod above the flame, still chanting his trilogious mantra, as the glass rods clinks as it stirs the mixture.
The mixture becomes clear as the golf ball disolves.
He takes it in his hand headless of the heat and hurriedly pours the contents into a crucible, his chanting gets faster and more urgent. Opening a small leather wallet he removes his syringe, rusty needle is attached, his eyes grow wider, he draws the liquid up into the cylinder, first 1cc then 2cc, until he fills the syringe, he forces the air out of the syringe not wasting any of his precious essence of golf, his chanting gets louder and louder, he hold the syringe in his right hand gripped like a dagger, thumb on the top of the syringe, he brings it arcing towards his arm, as he screams his Mantra, "GOLF IN BLOOD, GOLF IN BLOOOODDD".

That was the first time I saw this when I was introduced to our familys rite of passage.
That very day I had my first injection of the essence of Golf. And so I will pass this to my Grandson and he to his and so on forever, the circle will be unbroken BY AND BY. THE CIRCLE OF GOLF IN BLOOD!

Telemachus, I'm literally disappointed that you didn't work goats into the story.

... about the lack of goats.

Maybe he used a goat to carry his clubs it would be like some kind of Goat Caddy?

Maybe you can take him to court to get your goat back, I know I'd never want to lose my goat. Either that or maybe you could see it on weekends, just be careful staniel doesn't get it or you'll only be able to share in it via Vindaloo.

Just add this sentence to the end of your story:

THERE'S A BETTER GOAT A WAITIN IN THE SKY, LORD, IN THE SKY

The Shub Niggurath Dancing Golf Oil Painting Vindloo Cook-off

Did someone remember to invite Randall Kennedy?

Dick Gregory is funnier.

I'm a dancer not a painter. Most likely we have the same income from our artistic talents.

my friend used to keep goats and once i dropped my jumper into the pen. the gaot immediately urinated onto my jumper and then proceeded to eat it. i didn't bother to get it back. i have hated goats since that day.

Your meanings 1 and 2 are figurative meanings and so can not be reasonably prefaced with the word literally. To have something in ones blood means to have it floating about in there, like vodka, or botulism.

[ED: stupid stuff removed]

same income, ya! and dunc, why you gotta be so fuckin literal like that?

People should yell, "Laterally!!" when things start going sideways.

If you wore a g-string when you were drawing, you'd make more money.

how do you know I don't, muthafucka?

I knew about the buttplug, but I wasn't sure about the g-string.

that's no buttplug, that's my Sharpie!

Aha! That's the secret of cartoon drawing! These are some deranged art lessons.

dick gregory is fucking depressing. i read part of his auto biography, bad name deleted, and it made me cry. also he is a reverse racist and probably fat.

I think that Dick Gregory is the guy who does the Bahamanian Diet thing,, lots of fruit and veggies, so he's not fat, being the diet man himself. He ran for president one time. What do you mean, he's a reverse racist, he's an Uncle Tom or that he's one of those idiots who goes around saying that everyone is equal? Because, obviously everyone is different. Dick Gregory is supposed to be a comedian, but maybe Randall Kennedy is funnier.

you KNOW what I mean, you deliberately obtuse drug addict. there is nothing funny about anyone who thinks all white people are evil devils out to oppress all of the jazz musicians and crack babies.

His car's alignment was laterally off! Goddamned jazz musicians.

One musicology theory that I think is funny is that jazz mutated from klesmer in New Orleans. Everyone says, "Hurrah for our team!" But I think that a culture that caters to averages is bound to end up mediochre, it would be better to acknowlege excellence, to have ideals and go for them. I can play some Blind Watermelon Jefferson on the guitar, but I bet he can't play Bach's Lute Suites, expecially since he's dead, not that I'm biased against dead people, they roxors, although they have a strange odor and are a bit slow on the uptake.

I'm at least 1/8 dead and I take offense at your remark.

I'm a macaroon, and I'm going to pimp yo' cookies off.

I'm in training. Where's the beef?

In the fo'c'sle.