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November 29, 2004


I'm FIRST, I'm obnoxious, I'm off-topic, I'm wasting blog space, I don't ever have anything to say other than that I'm FIRST... and now I've got the T-shirt to prove it!

-- Guillermo Rodriguez


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Gotta get one of those!

I'm first here.

but, being First! is merely subjective.

"Post" as in "dumb as a"

If I woulda have been first post here first, I woulda been the first person to buy the t-shirt, but first I would have to borrow my big brothers credit card, which wont be the first time I did this for a good cause, but since I'm not the first post, I guess he will be saving money for the first time.

Somebody's gotta start it, so it may as well be me:


No, I'm last!

Someone needs to GET A LIFE!

*returns to someone elses life*

It has all the class n' dignity of those "Free Mustache Rides" t-shirts seen at your finer sporting events & rib cook-offs.

FedDuck - if you want to be LAST, go to the Dave D MOAT where he has been trying to be last for months - help me out here!

Now I'm last, I think.

I just talked bout hating spam, and I just spam by accident, sorry everybody!

Dave, please erase my comments bout my t-shirt!

*snort* hmpfh, what did you say?

Since it's winter, I have given up "tee-ing" for "sweat-ing."
*refering to tops, of course*


by: T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"

Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--
(They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!")
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!")
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all--
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

* * *

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"--
If one, settling a pillow by her head
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor--
And this, and so much more?--
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous--
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old ... I grow old ...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" was originally printed in Poetry, June 1915.

Apologies to everyone here - I posted this on the wrong blog - but it's still a great poem!!

But hey, you were the FIRST to post it!

I think they really didn't make them in any sizes but 'Large' and they're just trying to spare geekish feelings.
Memo to Eleanor: Love the Prufrock!

I'm glad you posted it on the wrong blog, Eleanor, thanks.

That's not the FIRST wrong post, however.

The blog clock is wrong. (First!)

Higgy - But you were the FIRST to point out that it was not the FIRST wrong post based on Corn's FIRST pointing out that Eleanor was the FIRST to post to the wrong blog FIRST. And note that I'm the FIRST to point this out to you - so far.

But first, ROO ROO! (Another first!)

FIRST of all, you're all nuts!

LASTly, I would also say, thanks for being nuts - it's what makes this so much fun!


( dressing, of course)

One more proclamation - make negated by - not and by;-)

Dave D - don't start here or we will have to form a posse to hunt you down!

Please, don't anybody call that other thread "The Dave D Thread"... at least until he LASTS another 6 months or so...



Leetie - y ou're right - we shouldn't build him up by calling the thread D---D - I will never say it again - why don't you come up with a name for us to refer to it by - and don't end a sentence with a proposition, either! Or a preposition!!(I guess a proposition would be OK, if directed at the right person, say Joshkr, as an example -

*stop babbling, Eleanor and just post*

Blasted firsters and firsted lasters!!!!




*Looks around... no one here....*

......... LAST!

May I be the FIRST to point out that the LAST thing I ever expected to see included among Dave Barry paraphernalial commentary was Prufrock.

"The Waste Land" perhaps yes, but not Prufrock.

Thanks, Eleanor.

... whimper ...


*wonders how long this could go on for*


David D.

I wasn't posting on the blog in July. So poo!


*regrets teasing alanboss like that, but it was too hot to type somthing intelligent*

*Stands graciously to one side and waves alan forward to the posting line*

I'm the LAST person to spoil someone else's fun....

LAST at last

Last - Not quite last, Last.

Now, that is kind of funny.
What's sad is that I get it.

In my time zone, I am the first to be last -
I will post The Waste Land later, also a favorite!


Last not? Is that how the old saying goes? Waste not, want not, last not?

What you guys don't get is that Dave, in his very subtle way, is telling you morons that posting FIRST on every thread is stupid and wasteful. But of course you people need to be hit with a brick before you'd realize it.


That is all.

Thanks jensharp, that was very insightful. You know, I would have never caught that.

*returns to ignoring this thread*

Move along folks. Nothing interesting here.

Err... clarification of above post:

"as seen by the several incarnations of the MOAT before they were each shut down" should have " by spammers." on the end....


Lab - what can I say? The Wonderwoman Costume always brings out the claws... perhaps I should have gone for the Catwoman costume instead... its just easier to ride the Attack Emu in a skirt than in head to toe Vinyl... kept slipping off. *shrug* ...
MAybe I just need a new job where boredom isn't such an everyday occurance... :)

*riding back to the MOAT*

zipadee do daaaahhh... zipadee day.... (as singing fades into distance)

Me thinks Ms. Manners got a wee bit excited with the 'tongue' ...

I just want to make the comment that if you absolutely must wear a T-shirt with a stupid slogan on it, you'd better make darn sure that it has first been run through rigorous tests by "Nitrozac" and "Snaggy." It's the only guarantee of quality.


**Returns after a 24 hour absence and looks around**


Oh well.

And, thanks, wysiwyg. Very gracious of you.

And no. Dave would never call us "morons." He would come up with something far more clever and catchy.

Oh.. and... LAS.... oh nevermind.

"A bit of talcome'Is always walcome!
*Goochee, goochee, goo!*

"Go to bedie bye, children!"

hey, we can't let the spammers have the LA...oh, wait, wrong thread...

But ...

SOMEone has to be first, even if by accident ...

or these darn things would never get started.

Or finished.


Never last with Everlast!

Wouldn't it be You'll LAST with Everlast, hence the name?

But I know I'm LASTer than that so called SMARK person lurking here when he should be paying attention to the REAL F-rst thread....


I started this horsepuckey on this thread and I'll finish it, as is my custom.

For the last time, LAST.



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