Wu is me

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And lo, it came to pass, even as it was foretold by the prophet Jacob…

Two months ago our venerated founder Sir Jacob de Beardsley of that Ilk, OM, took unto himself a wife, whose name is Judy Wu and who is a totally pleasant and reasonable person apart from her shameful weakness for fish fondling into which she has already initiated Jacob’s young and impressionable brother Nate, oh the scandal if this should ever come to light but I promise I shall never breathe a word about it here.

But when Jacob entered upon the marital estate he purged himself of his existing surname (sullied by three years of snook-cocking by us), adopting that of his wife and becoming Jacob Wu, since when most contributors to Ask A Drunk have been hiding under plastic buckets having nervous breakdowns, I mean if we can’t depend on Jacob to go on being Beardsley then the pillars have buckled, the temple has fallen, the glorious fabric of our cloud-capped sanctuary has crumbled into a heap of grot.

Yet all’s not lost, for Jacob has bowed to global diplomatic pressure and done what we’ve always fantasised he might, i.e. reinstated his webcam. ‘I’ll spare you the nasty technical details,’ he writes (via a burning disembodied hand tracing jagged hieroglyphics on the walls of our banqueting hall, I must say these part-time Canadians can do the most peculiar things), ‘and just say that the image quality may improve sometime.’

O Radiant One, image quality is nothing, nothing. We yearn only to gaze eternally upon thine ennobling goatee. And now we can. So that’s all right.

― Rex (Rex), Monday, 23 August 2004 21:35 (twenty-one years ago)

Well!

I clicked on that webcam thing and recieved the shock of my life.

Someone,(I couldn't tell who. It was dark.)was fondling a chocolate chip cookie. Perhaps 'brutalizing' would be a better word. They were breaking the thing apart and eating the chocolate bits BEFORE THEY ATE THE REST OF IT! Needless to say, I was apalled.

Rex? I admire you. I really do. Your wit...your wisdom...the fact that you have three thumbs...but there are some things from which we should be spared.

― Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Monday, 23 August 2004 23:21 (twenty-one years ago)

All I can see appears to be an early unsuccessful work by Vermeer attempting to depict a corner of a library cloaked in the penumbra of early dawn.

the pillars have buckled, the temple has fallen, the glorious fabric of our cloud-capped sanctuary has crumbled into a heap of grot.

I intend no disrespect to my elders (if not betters) but this quotation has certainly described AAD since my recent arrival. Some day, I shall have to go back to the earliest threads to read of the glorious deeds recounted in 'Ou sont les cuites d'antan?' or, 'Ye Gestes of the Aske an Drunck Threade' such as the Quest for the Blissium, the origin of the grebe, the legend of the Order of the Golden Hatpin, and diverse other tales from the Golden Age of Inebriety.

― Michael White (Hereward), Tuesday, 24 August 2004 17:39 (twenty-one years ago)

Ah, blissium. Yes I remember. Little did Sir Jacob know that his silly prank would become legend. I'm afraid, Michael, that you won't be able to go very far back. I have heard that Celeste has saved some "things", hatpins, grebe feathers, mandrills, antilopes ect., but by the time she is satisfied with your groveling you will have forgotten what you wanted and become a mindless slave.

― Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Tuesday, 24 August 2004 18:33 (twenty-one years ago)

Mr. Wu (nee Beardsley) is to be felicitated on his courageous anti-clockwise posture in regard to his married name. Not everyone has the imagination to grasp reality by the left ear. Later today I shall have to slip round to my local felicitationer's shop and arrange to have the happy pair suitably pelted with a variety of fruit-flavoured gummy-felicitations. May their issue grow to fine manhood - regardless of gender - and live long and prosper (so long as we get ours).

As for the fallen pillars &tc, it does no good to whinge over past glories, when Ask A Drunk positively wallowed in an endless stream of slaves and treasure, when the might of our stalwart company, marching under the inspired guidance of Rex 'The Wrecker' Sweeney, and exhorted by the dulcet tones of Sue Denim to "Put the boot in proper!" and "Hatpin 'em blind, m' buckos!" resulted in pub after pub tossing us out on our ears, along with the grebes we rode in on. Certainly, glory it was, and enough for several lifetimes, but those days are dead - since Michael White arrived - and we are reduced to our present squalor, dust and the dimming of our days.

We should emulate the highly sensible medieval Romans, who, finding themselves living in the perfectly good ruins of a great city, grabbed the nearest goat by the hind leg, milked it, and made cheese. Good cheese, too, if sometimes a bit salty.

― Aimless The Unlogged, Tuesday, 24 August 2004 18:42 (twenty-one years ago)

May their issue grow to fine manhood - regardless of gender - and live long and prosper (so long as we get ours).

In a process which will doubtless be known as 'making Wu'.

Preferisco il pecorino al formaggio romano ma sappiamo tutti che i sardi sono pazzi e anno una tendenza a scopare le capre quale è appena ragionevole.

― Michael White (Hereward), Tuesday, 24 August 2004 20:30 (twenty-one years ago)

I think Aimless and Michael are smartasses. Of course I am an idiot and my opinion does not carry much weight in the world.

*walks away mumbling, trying to remember how to turn on the television*

― Zen Clown (Zen Clown), Tuesday, 24 August 2004 21:16 (twenty-one years ago)

As part of my unceasing campaign to make Ask A Drunk more accessible, show us yer knickers, har har har, I’ve just been to Babel Fish and put Michael’s remarks through the translation machine and they came out as ‘I prefer the pecorino to the roman cheese but we know all that the Sardinians are crazy and year a tendency to sweep the goats which is hardly reasonable.’ Sentiments, as Dr Johnson had it, to which every bosom returns an echo.’ Bosom, eh? BOSOM! Har har har! [Continued on BBC3]

― Rex (Rex), Wednesday, 25 August 2004 02:45 (twenty-one years ago)

Damn, a rogue quotation mark. I’ll never get into Anal-Retentives Anonymous at this rate. And after all my years of effort, too.

― Rex (Rex), Wednesday, 25 August 2004 02:48 (twenty-one years ago)

Herr Rex, Vivat!

Mine italienisch remarken were meaning to sense: I am pecorino käse preferring over the Romish but we alles are knowing that the Sarden are crazy und are having the tendency to fuck their goats which is not so much sensible.

Danke for your zeit.

Post Scriptum:

You are in AAD, why you wanting to go ARA?

― Michael White (Hereward), Wednesday, 25 August 2004 15:46 (twenty-one years ago)

Now Mr. Wu was a laundry man in a shop with an old green door
He'll iron all day your linen away, he really makes me sore
He's lost his heart to a Chinese girl and his laundry's all gone wrong
All day he'll flirt and scorch your shirt, that's why I'm singing this song

Oh Mr. Wu, what shall I do? I'm feeling kind of Limehouse Chinese Laundry Blues

This funny feeling keeps round me stealing
Oh won’t you throw your sweetheart over do
My vest's so short that it won't fit my little brother
And my new Sunday shirt has got a perforated rudder

Mr. Wu, what shall I do? I'm feeling kind of Limehouse Chinese Laundry Blues

Now Mr. Wu, he's got a naughty eye that flickers
You ought to see it wobble when he's ironing ladies blouses
Mr. Wu, what shall I do? I'm feeling kind of Limehouse Chinese Laundry Blues

Now Mr. Wu, he's got a laundry kind of tricky,
He'll starch my shirts and collars but he'll never touch my waistcoat..
Mr. Wu, what shall I do? I'm feeling kind of Limehouse Chinese Laundry Blues

― C J (C J), Saturday, 28 August 2004 14:28 (twenty-one years ago)

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