Diary (August 17, 2021): Difference between revisions
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-"The Sacred Sower: Being a Collection of Hymns and Devout Songs Adapted to the Use of Missionary Societies", 1887; verses marked * may be omitted if desired. | -"The Sacred Sower: Being a Collection of Hymns and Devout Songs Adapted to the Use of Missionary Societies", 1887; verses marked * may be omitted if desired. | ||
== I am the world's fourth-greatest nonsense poet == | === === | ||
THE MARVELS OF MODERN CIVILIZATION | |||
The small neat secretary, a girl in the smartest of advanced fashionable styles including a skirt slit up to the waist to display at her crotch a tuft of shiny steel wool attached to her panties, listened to the ultramodern intercom on her highly-polished desk. The sound was directionalized, of course. It was cool and quiet in here because instead of windows there were cosmoramic projections, latest of late devices to prevent the intrusion of untasteful exterior reality. Nearby the chimneys reeked a twenty-four-hour day yet the view was of clean white clouds, blue sky, yellow sun not so bright that it dazzled. | |||
Superior to the natural article, yes. | |||
Also birds flew or perched between two layers of glass on real branches in air-conditioned environment. It was not ordinary to see birds. Very yes. | |||
"Mr. Hideki Katsamura," the girl said. Mr. Hideld Katsamura rose from the plastic seat, faultless imitation of natural fur without risk of disease or perhaps pejorative associations owing to demise of so many regretted species. Solid family man, well-established, excellent command of English, correctly clad with sober fabric. Unflighty. Not excessively anxious to please and bowing to secretaries as some. | |||
The wait had been long but one understood: the pressure of urgent business. | |||
Very modern, the girl opened the door to Dr. Hirasaku's office by pushing a hidden button. | |||
Later, when Dr. Hirasaku and his co-directors had clearly given instructions for the visit to America allotting the franchises for new water-purifier, also many lists of competing products to be explained inferior and amounts of bids recorded so far and further details to be studied with care, Mr. Katsamura went home to new house in suburb of Osaka where the honey-carts called promptly and the center of the street received replenishment of other household waters in landscaped rivulets arched at one-block intervals with highly artistic ancient Chinese-pattern bridges, typical of supermodern pedestrian-precinct city planning must not be jammed uptight with cars. All excellent. All nylon. | |||
=== I am the world's fourth-greatest nonsense poet === | |||
[[Fourth-Greatest Nonsense Poet]]. | [[Fourth-Greatest Nonsense Poet]]. | ||
Revision as of 07:41, 17 August 2021
Online diary of Karl Jones for August 17, 2021.
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Diary
JANUARY
MARCHING ORDERS
"Go ye and bring the Light
To savage strands afar.
Take ye the Law of Right
Where'er the unblest are.
- "Heathens and stubborn Jews,
Lovers of Juggernaut,
Give them the chance to choose
That which the Saviour taught.
"Go where the gentle Lord
Is still as yet unknown,
There where the tribes ignored
Strive in the dark alone.
"Arm ye to face the foe,
Carib and cannibal,
Men who must live as low
As any animal.
- "Cover the naked limb,
Shoe ye the unshod foot,
Silence the pagan hymn,
Conquer the godless brute.
"Tell them the news of Love,
Preach them the Prince of Peace,
Tear down their pagan grove,
Give them divine release."
-"The Sacred Sower: Being a Collection of Hymns and Devout Songs Adapted to the Use of Missionary Societies", 1887; verses marked * may be omitted if desired.
THE MARVELS OF MODERN CIVILIZATION
The small neat secretary, a girl in the smartest of advanced fashionable styles including a skirt slit up to the waist to display at her crotch a tuft of shiny steel wool attached to her panties, listened to the ultramodern intercom on her highly-polished desk. The sound was directionalized, of course. It was cool and quiet in here because instead of windows there were cosmoramic projections, latest of late devices to prevent the intrusion of untasteful exterior reality. Nearby the chimneys reeked a twenty-four-hour day yet the view was of clean white clouds, blue sky, yellow sun not so bright that it dazzled.
Superior to the natural article, yes.
Also birds flew or perched between two layers of glass on real branches in air-conditioned environment. It was not ordinary to see birds. Very yes.
"Mr. Hideki Katsamura," the girl said. Mr. Hideld Katsamura rose from the plastic seat, faultless imitation of natural fur without risk of disease or perhaps pejorative associations owing to demise of so many regretted species. Solid family man, well-established, excellent command of English, correctly clad with sober fabric. Unflighty. Not excessively anxious to please and bowing to secretaries as some.
The wait had been long but one understood: the pressure of urgent business.
Very modern, the girl opened the door to Dr. Hirasaku's office by pushing a hidden button.
Later, when Dr. Hirasaku and his co-directors had clearly given instructions for the visit to America allotting the franchises for new water-purifier, also many lists of competing products to be explained inferior and amounts of bids recorded so far and further details to be studied with care, Mr. Katsamura went home to new house in suburb of Osaka where the honey-carts called promptly and the center of the street received replenishment of other household waters in landscaped rivulets arched at one-block intervals with highly artistic ancient Chinese-pattern bridges, typical of supermodern pedestrian-precinct city planning must not be jammed uptight with cars. All excellent. All nylon.
I am the world's fourth-greatest nonsense poet
Fourth-Greatest Nonsense Poet.
Compare Move aside, satire coming through.