YE UTTER GODS
Dammit. For once I’m completely gob-smacked.
Actually, I’m completely and utterly totally lost in admiration—this is taking PC dribble to a new and previously unachievable
low height of lowness.
Can anyone, ever, do better? “My name is Ozymandias, Look upon my works ye mighty and weep~!” Sorry, Oz, you’ve been bettered—no need for ISIL to destroy bricks and mortar when American education can do it far better but less obviously.
“Mr Argus! Sir?”
“Yes, Little Ollivia?”
“Ozzy wot? Who? Whom? Please elucidate. Forthwith!”
“From a poem by Shelley, Cutie. Don’t you fret your pretty little head none—”
“Mr Argus! Don’t you try that patronising canine-chauvinistic stuff on me—”
“Miss Ollivia … Madame, I wouldn’t dare~”
But back to the issue: these nice folks (link below) have certainly achieved an unachievable-ever-again pinnacle.
What on Earth is wrong with American youth these days? In my time universities were ivy-coated Halls Of Learning—which relied on free speech. You know, that old ‘open debate’ stuff.
TO NOT RISK
offending the sensibilities of minority groups, or worse of majority groups, or worse yet of any groups, or even more worsest yet of any bugger anywhere I shall not quote from it. I’ll just post the link—
—and if you go there may Dog protect you and all who sail in you. Take a packet of popcorn and some barf-bags; and please be advised that if you don’t see in it what I see in it … we just aren’t on the same planet.
In the meantime … I present your immortal Ozzie:
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear —
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.’