#9: I hath been iambic on that arse, ye bastard...

It's been a while, eh?

Today's my second unofficial holiday of the year. Frankly, I'm rather disgusted with myself. There would have been football, basketball, volleyball, minding obnoxious little brats and imposing prefect power on them, cutting spinach for Bio practicals, et al, but, if I am to retain the hope of passing this year, I may need a few more of these holidays.
After creating, editing, and finally deleting a Google+ profile, here I sit, in lack of want for social media.

Anyway, what I found to be unusually inspiring is nicepeter's youtube phenomenon- Epic Rap Battles of History. No doubt, you've seen a few, and yes, I did watch Darth vs. Hitler and a few others a long, long time ago, but, for me, nothing can beat Dr. Seuss vs. Shakespeare. I dunno, maybe it's the bard's obnoxious grandiose and his insanely impressive verbosity, or maybe it's because he's so much a part of our school lives that we would back him under any fire from CBSE or PUC blockheads who have the linguistic capability of a small rock... Anyway, I would like to share some of his rapping prowess here. Please note, the lines below become far more impressive when read in a badass, prissy Brit. accent at three words a second:

"Come bite my thumb!
I hope you know the stakes
I’ll put a slug between your shoulder blades
Then ask what light through yonder poser breaks?
I hath been iambic on that arse, ye bastard
My rhymes are classic
Your crap is drafted by a kindergartner high on acid.

Ye hoebag
You’re an old white Soulja Boy who has no swag and no gonads
Egads it’s so sad
And to top it off
You’re not a doctor
I’ve never seen a softer author
You crook, you
I bet you wrote The Twilight books too

I’m switching up my style like the Beatles with my pieces, each is such a wonder with a plethora of features you’re pathetically predictable, you think your new book might include a trisyllabic meter and some ghetto Muppet creatures the Bard is in the building, it’s a castle, I’m a boss. I bet I’m Parliament. I’m positive, I’m killing it, I’m iller than the plague, I never caught or cholera a baller baller on some cricket bowler business while you’re sitting in the bleachers."

I also found out the story behind Halloween, but I'll save that for another time.

 

#8: The Rugby of the East...

I was just thinking: it would be great to start some awesome school traditions! With our 45th year of operation, it's about time that we establish ourselves as a Rugby-esque institution. Minus, of course, exactly four centuries. Here's a list to begin with:

• Introduce 6th stds. to senior school by telling them the story of the two head-boys sometime in the 70's. One blew up a toilet, and was removed from his post.
• Make all Class 7 boys get crew cuts in November to pay homage to the class Sandeep Unnikrishnan was reprimanded by NS for sword(ruler)-play upon the desks.
• Form several secret societies.
• Introduce 11th vs. 12th sports tourneys.
• Make the band play the Game of Thrones theme on some auspicious date.
• Form a dialect of school-slang. Have badass student names for things like the basketball court, the physics lab, etc.

That's enough for a start, methinks!

#7: Da wollte ich im deutschen erite...

Gestern wurde ich beobachten dieses deutschen Film namens "Alice in den Städten". Es war wirklich eine alte Schwarz-Weiß ein, und es brachte mich zum Lachen zu denken, dass vor einiger Zeit, die Menschen dachten eigentlich, dass diese Art von Film, mit seiner schrecklichen Schauspiel, das Wiederholen des gleichen musikalischen Sequenz durch den ganzen Film gehalten, das war Inbegriff der Technik.

Dann ist es ein bisschen beängstigend bekam, weil ich darüber nachdenken, wie denken begann, in ein paar Jahrzehnten (oder Jahren, zu dem Satz werden wir), würden alle die besten Filme der letzten Jahre sein lächerlich veraltet! Stellen Sie sich vor! Alle Kinder der Zukunft mit ihren Kunststoff-Kabelbinder, Inside-Out-Jeans, und Rückspiegel Sonnenbrille, würde zu sitzen und Spott an der altmodischen Film, 'Avatar' ist!

Dann, natürlich, kann die Erde haben sich selbst zerstört, indem dann, so können wir tatsächlich erleben werden, den höchsten Gipfel der Technologie, dass wir jemals in der menschlichen Geschichte zu sehen.

Also, ich denke, wir sollten schätzen was wir haben. Und Gottesdienstes am Altar, der ist 'The Room' forver mehr ...

Wenn Sie zu faul zu "Google Translator" zu verwenden sind, vergeuden Sie nicht Ihre Zeit zu diesem Beitrag.

#6 Tirra Lirra...

Thanks to a certain HBO show, I ended up spelling the legendary knight's title as Ser Lancelot. Anyway, what is really important is the fact that his description in Tennyson's 'The Lady of Shalott' is so undeniably homosexual that it has become nothing less than an class eleven legend, many generations in the making.

This is a drawing of what medieval artists pictured Lancelot like:

Tennyson's description:

"The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot."

... which makes him look more like this:

No, seriously, "Tirra Lirra"? "Tirra Lirra"?? Which self-respecting straight male says that?!

Nothing else of importance to state, at this moment.

#5: Nigel's 50th...

So today, I found this old, tattered copy of The Last of the Mohicans in the school library. Which is a cool find anyway, since I practically know the first few lines of it by heart. But what made it really cool was the little message on the title page: "To my darling Nigel, on his 8th birthday, from Mummy, Daddy..." and some other names I couldn't read. Sweet message... dated 1970. So now, Nigel's like what? 49? 50?

But what made it really, really cool was :badumtish: it was dated 1st February, 1970! So, the day we discover Nigel's old birthday present is the date of his 50th birthday! 

I don't really even believe in coincidences, but this was far too uncanny! There had to be some divine overtone to the whole thing! 

Many hours later, though, here I sit, unsuccessful in finding anybody named Nigel (preferably Anglo-Indian, Fapsian) who was born on 1st February, 1962... So I guess I just have to give up on the idea of the anonymous phonecall, and wish him in spirit instead...

So, if you happen to read this, HAPPY 50th BIRTHDAY, NIGEL!!!