the last person to post here wins

Shelagh wrote:

... but Marilyn made a fortune out of them. So did Jordan (who is now a best selling author!).

I don't know who Jordan is, and Marilyn was usually pretty covered up by today's standards.

But while were' discussing MM, I don't see where she was "all that," anyhow. In fact, I was just thinking the other day about how much better looking women are now than 50, 75, 100+ years ago. Especially 100 years ago - women then looked like men wearing wigs. I was looking at some photos of someone, where the caption said she was a "stunning beauty of her day," and I was just stunned that this was considered beauty.

Marilyn looks like a dumpy housewife in that picture, with hat-hair and big tits hanging out. The goblin can have her.

Quote :

Marilyn looks like a dumpy housewife in that picture, with hat-hair and big tits hanging out. The goblin can have her.

("...ah so you guessed my taste in women then..." replied the goblin now posting an explanation here, but appreciating LC's comment for its wisdom, saying "...I am well fed mortal, I will you live...")

repost from elsewhere

xxxx wrote:

no,Gremlins have a lot of childern..goblins just eat them.

"...nah, I don't eat children, they don't have enough meat on them, I prefer American housewives myself..." replied the goblin, adding "...in fact, they often come ready larded, usually with a grocery cart too, but I am not really fussy where food is concerned, now if you have never seen an american housewife before..." the goblin, in his kindness, then attached a picture of one for reference then


77

She used to post on this site. She's not a housewife anymore, though, she has her own "publishing company."

LC wrote:

I don't know who Jordan is ...

After implant removal:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-512461/Jordan-I-hate-body-Im-planning-cosmetic-surgery.html

(the goblin didn't even know who she was either, saying "...people like reading, yes, but they actually prefer to converse with their authors now, but I won't start down that path here because scot will tell you how that landed me in hot water on another "writer's" site recently...", the goblin quickly posted something else, miles away)

Quote :

nice pic, pinches it

"...all that I have is everyones..." replied the goblin, who in his turn had pinched it from somewhere else, saying "...ah such is the bounty of our forays into forumland yonder is it not...", which admittedly was easier, than his facing that other question of "alright then, so which forum has banned me today then", "...ah but one only fails when one gives up..." replied the goblin, adding "...so any post is a win, whereas to keep at it is a triumph..." in fact, the goblin often wondered if he wasn't posting more for the pleasure of his ghosts on those sites, than for any potential reader there then, concluding "...well yes, those readers are OK I suppose, but they do come and go somewhat, whereas my ghosts, well now, their apparitions can be relied on..."

thehairymob wrote:

They write their tales,
Through a wisp of smoke,
Something science says,
Is truly not there.

These famous people,
Claim more funds,
To live the life,
Few can more than dream of.

Filling their lives,
With the fantasy they sell,
By paying another for the words,
Put down by a ghost.

Very good!

I see Dumbledore's drinking pal disguised as Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean also directed my favourite film, Ryan's Daughter). Omar Sharif (with the lovely Julie Christie) starred in another of Lean's epics: Dr. Zhivago.

("...agreed, there are just some films that simply helps one forget the others..." replied the goblin, who liked "the third man", and "one flew over the cuckoo's nest", adding "...hard to say what I want from a film...")

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

why

"...because your "journey to self" is yours alone, and where, if one can't walk away from one own creations, they still own you..." replied the goblin, continuing "...so perhaps you should see it from the standpoint of someone who is anonymous, who cares nothing for what he has created if only because he can't lay any claim to it, and yet he still enjoys "creating" through, it's simply the difference between peter pan and wendy here, where one can't be peter pan unless one is truly anonymous..."

Chagford folk can't be truly anonymous. Not those with Linux mint OS.

("...ah, but the secret was never to admit it now, never ever admit it..." replied the goblin)

repost from elsewhere

"...no she never really forgives, does she..." said the goblin "...though she might let it pass for a while that is, it will return between them again, these things always do you know, while he for his part lives in fear if he values her, or as some trapped fool if he doesn't, where mistrust, disappointment, regret, shame and a whole bunch of other inner emotions flog the backs of their relationship from that point on..." mentioned the goblin who would never confess it, nor repeat it, nor ever talk about it now, just that from somewhere inside he knew he knew


64

the goblin's blog

41)The goblin was having trouble remembering the Dungford Walkway Code again which reads:

rule 283: safely passing pedestrians:

if passing, in correct order
- smile, ignore person if they don't smile back.
- then say "..hello...", ignore person if they smile walking on by.
- then say "...I think it is going to rain...", except when raining where one then says "...I think it is going to stop raining..." ignore person who wears a Tshirt marked "Islamic Republic of Dungford"
- then engage in half an hour's smalltalk without mentioning the foxban, the English civil war of 1642, and HDTV.
- then sign off by saying "...well it was very nice to met you again..." regardless that you have never met them, or that you are bored out of your banana.

In other words: poke your head around corners, dash behind cars tiptoe across the streets all in mission impossible style.

She knows too. She's very forgiving by nature. That is her weakness.

Quote :

ignore person who wears a Tshirt marked "Islamic Republic of Dungford"

Wise decision.

(the goblin liked queenbot very much, saying "...feed me...")

("...you have been spared mortals MYAHAHAHAHAHAHA..." said the goblin)

repost from elsewhere

[attention: the names mentioned here are picked at random and are purely fictional, any apparent connection to someone known is mere coincidence]

as usual admin turned up dressed in her school uniform and shouted “...you won't get away with it you wicked goblin ...” that is while threateningly raising her magic wand up into the air as she span round, the music started, flashing lights, ribbons appeared to the words “Sailormommy” half a day later a now dizzy whatever faces off the goblin for the possession of the last post thread, the goblin's sardonic smile lets out the words “...your pink postable thingies won't help you now, I have sealed off the lady's room, your pink chalk powdering days are over, admit defeat and I will let you live...”, “...oh no not our restroom...” she sighs perplexed, suddenly the stork of a red rose hits the goblin's center of control(his bistro table no less) moddy dressed like Dracula in goggles appears and calmly remarks “...anything to help the embalmies but I'm still looking for inspiration...”, the goblin beats a retreats but no doubt his dire plots will continue here

Ah, the ladies room:

When I entered the locker room, Moira had already left and made her way upstairs to the bar. I quickly changed my golf shoes, and then walked through to the bathroom area to wash my hands. As I scrubbed away the grime from the golf course, I became aware of an attractive woman, dressed in a simple silk evening gown, standing close by as she fixed her makeup and combed her dark hair.

I smiled in acknowledgement, and she smiled back, but neither of us felt the need to break the silence. I continued to rinse the soap from my hands until we were joined by an extremely tall person – much taller than the average woman – oddly dressed in an ill-fitting skirt with a bag-belt: the type worn around the waist by men to store their personal belongings. Although I hadn’t felt obliged to speak to the woman with the comb, this person, washing her hands next to me, was much closer, so I felt pressured to say something.

“Did you enjoy your round of golf?” I asked with a smile.

“I haven’t been playing golf,” came the frosty response, as the person spun round and grabbed a paper towel.
Never one to give up, I tried again. “Don’t you play golf?” I said, remaining cheerful.

“I’ve never played golf in my life!” was the indignant reply. You would have thought I’d asked if she could pick her nose and fart at the same time.

“Have you never been tempted?” I said, undaunted.

“No,” and with that response, spinning like a tornado, the person had gone.

The atmosphere thus created was quite alien to an area normally off limits to men. Usually, all female company is very relaxed and tension-free. Women, who might put up a barrier in mixed company, drop their redundant defences in the presence of other women. Men cannot personally experience all-women company; they can observe groups of women on film or on television, but cannot, ipso facto, be present themselves. The hush that prevailed was unnatural, almost spooky, and made the woman fixing her hair feel as uncomfortable as me.

“Did you enjoy your round of golf?” she said, in as light and friendly a voice as she could muster.

“Yes, I did,” I replied, with a slight giggle to relieve the stress.


Chapter Five: Laughter is the Cure The Power of Persuasion Copyright 2008 Shelagh Watkins

Goblin, I confess to skipping your posts, they're way over my head, but that photo of Dubya in Scarface's chair is the shit ...lolololol...

Nice Waterford crystal glass, though.

Goblin,
I have truely loved the pictures and your posts. I hope you are not Evil!
I have a set of glasses like that.

Love,
Betty

(queenbot had fed the goblin with a gem, simply he loved the fact that here was the author too, saying "...beautiful, but somehow I knew it would be, you are amazing now...")

repost from elsewhere, the "afterlife" thread

the goblin turned up, and then explained "...in life, there is only this "journey to self" here, that you can know of for sure, in that, some people will talk about lots of things that make sense attaching still more things they will ask you to believe in, even as far as to offer you an eternal reward or punishment depending on whether you accept their given line as the truth about your afterlife...", somehow the goblin knew that the next bit was harder but he continued "...so imagine the first of two choices, that you accepted their argument to its full, and did exactly as told to because that reward or punishment that was coming later, now what would that tell you about yourself and how base you are then, simply your actions would be based on self advantage here, something like taking out a mortgage on heaven perhaps, every good action you did would be some contribution towards that mortgage then, wouldn't it...", so the goblin just offered the second choice by saying "...now imagine the other choice, that all your actions good or bad were based on your own judgment of them, no expectation, nor reward nor punishment here, just you knowing yourself by what you do, well if you can imagine these two choices clearly then, and can still choose the latter of the two, thus defying any notion of God, or the Devil and anything else for that matter, saying "I do not look to reward in my actions, the actions are the reward in themselves", then for an eternity you could hold you head up high and look your maker in the eye, saying "well, you may not like my choices but at least I was, as honest to them then, as I am to you now"..."


51

Betty Fasig wrote:

Goblin,
I have truely loved the pictures and your posts. I hope you are not Evil!
I have a set of glasses like that.

Love,
Betty

("...I am your friend, but I have imperfections like most goblins do..." replied the goblin)

Goblin's lonely harts page:
dyslexic, hunted by ghosts, a mad muse and an ever hungry slot does not seek similar, if interested, you are not normal, contact:
http://www.thispagecannotbedisplayed.com/

my photo:

the goblin just reminded himself that the trees pumped coloring into their leaves before they fell, and that all this theoretically wasted effort was just to tell insects which trees they were by those dead leaves that would rot below them, "...who knows, perhaps like one of those same leaves, I too, am trying to gain color before I finally fall here..." mused the goblin looking across at Autumn's short beauty in his Autumn years


21

So, which one am I.

Betty will love that. She writes about all kinds of critters.

About the choices, my reward will not be on Earth or in Heaven. I do the things I do because to not do them would mean hours of idleness that I would have to fill one way or another. The way I spend my time, in itself, must be rewarding because, otherwise, I would do something else!

Ah,
I get it now.

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

Love,
Betty

Betty Fasig wrote:

So, which one am I.

("...I am well fed here..." replied the goblin, who liked the replies, adding "...the choice is always yours...")

growing old
what now, do you still want your past
and how would you, if I may ask,
still believe then those lies of innocence
now dispelled through your own experience
delicately masked not to betray your age
so do you still wish to turn back this page,
and are you really so shallow and cheap
that some youthful need is all you seek,
amongst the blind who now share this pain
and as if the past could be relived again
while forgetting that old age has a goal
to seek within to find ones soul
and if not a “soul” a simpler wealth
to reach within to find “oneself”

-fleamailman-

repost from elsewhere, just sharing

Quote :

The touch screen on my phone has spontaniously cracked, it's dead!!!

the goblin just wished here express his heartfelt sympathy over the loss the telephone, who when it had been working, had always been a happy telephone, joyous and friendly to everyone, "...but know this, that however bad this loss is for us now, and yes, this telephone will be sorely missed by both friends and relatives alike, it has, after all, gone to a better place from here and is at peace now, so join me then, let us hold our breath in silence and contemplation for this short moment for the loss of the poster's telephone now..., ..."


80

Dear Betty,

Please cite the author when you post a poem. In this case: Lewis Carroll (from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872).