John, let me tell you I've spent a lot of time on other forums trying to sound like you (before I even knew you) and let me tell you while entertaining at times it never came close to touch the genius of your posts.
People Who Correct You Incorrectly
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John, let me tell you I've spent a lot of time on other forums trying to sound like you (before I even knew you) and let me tell you while entertaining at times it never came close to touch the genius of your posts.
There are few things more annoying than standing in line behind someone who gets into an unnecessary, drawn out conversation with the clerk/cashier that is slowing down the whole process.
I used to think he was a genius too until he revealed it was all due to the Google translator. It's left me in disillusion and despair thinking his actual prose may be entirely mundane.
Yes... but, I don't think that Google translate in the hands of another would result in such spectacular consistently bizarre yet relatable results. John has turned the translator into an artform and often I find that his posts speak profound truths to me sometimes telling me to do things which I know aren't exactly right, but still... I think maybe, I should do these things he says. Yes, yes... tell me @JOHN72 tell me you have a plan for me... I am listening.
I suspect you must be correct. I don't believe Google translate would ever transform a mundane expression into something like:
"Some kind of a doughnut machine from the 30's that makes rusty squeaking sounds."
Why "doughnut machine from the 30's" precisely? Only @JOHN72 would come up with exactly that.
Nice, beautiful and funny things, say about me, the colleagues here. I am very fortunate to have them. Thanks for your patience, guys. I would give anything to be together at a big party of barbecues, beers, tobacco and whiskey. To be able to give a big hug. Sometimes dreams come true. God bless and protect you always. 
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Actually I meant to say, a fucking bread machine, old, rusty and full of shit, from several decades ago, maybe from the 30s. I swear I haven't had a drink, yet.
Yes, but lets also consider his talk about being psychology abused by the translator- that statement in itself and likely untainted by the translate, adds a lot to his post. It was relevant yet completely irrelevant and the sort of deep soul admission which add a bit of his deranged Spanish magic to his vignettes.
John, si pudieras volar por un momento desde esa dimensión que está llena de marroquíes y monos y comer plátanos cubiertos de iphones de chocolate, me encontraría con que el barco en el que estoy no es más que una zanahoria colgada a secar en un botella de cerveza hecha de queso.
Bueno, he tomado una copa. Tres de ellos. Rusos blancos. Y de postre pedí un pequeño regalo chino. Por supuesto, no me refiero a ningún otro planeta que no sean aquellos con cafeteras obsoletas de los locos años 20. Pero claro, tengo sombreros rojos hechos con máquinas de hielo de piratas en algún lugar de los mares romanos.
And yet you felt so confident about the propriety of using the word that you took it down. Tough guy...
Hey @JOHN72 after some digging I found some of my forum "work" from around 2007. Would you be so kind to give me an appraisement as I might again devote my life to pissing off.
Friends, I would like to come clean with my impromptu for joining an English language forum as it has to do with exercising with an old ghost in my dreams. This is the first I have spoken publicly on the subject; on occasion I thought to have a conversation with Dieter but he is always so harsh on matters of the heart.
Three years and a half ago I had a passioned lover affair that started in New York and traveled to Roma and Paris and ending in my childhood village in Rheinhessen. The subject of my blinded devotion was an American Italian named Rachel who has since made a great success out of her verbal charm and pearl whitened teeth. At the time it was clearly to see that her temper took the best from us. After many fights over her preoccupation with pornography and organic therapeutics we ended our great love with an aggression on her part that left a 5cm impression of those very whitened teeth on my left thigh just below my bikini line.
Having mostly erased this great trauma from my memory I was very disturbed to see her face up to mine in my dreams. This first occurred a month ago and shocked me so that I jumped from my bed and almost impaled my left foot on a shoe horn. I have since lowered my mattress to the floor to avoid physical disability. Since the nature of these frequent dreams have come in two variations: simply her face is nose to mine as if to use her eyes like a Dracula's fangs to drain me or in a more complicated and frightening sequence her floating head is chasing me through a subway tunnel ************** biting the air as I helpless run as if falling through a darkened spiral. They both end only when I wake in a state of panic that is followed by a feeling of distended gas in my abdomen.
As I do not believe in psychotherapy since I discovered my last consular was a fan of the English comedian Rowan Atkins in a most inappropriate sense I thought it practical to come to better understand the heart land from which my current state of mental distress originated and sew to seek advice from the relatives even if distant of my former lover.
Friends, I would like to come clean with my impromptu for joining an English language forum as it has to do with exercising with an old ghost in my dreams. This is the first I have spoken publicly on the subject; on occasion I thought to have a conversation with Dieter but he is always so harsh on matters of the heart.
Three years and a half ago I had a passioned lover affair that started in New York and traveled to Roma and Paris and ending in my childhood village in Rheinhessen. The subject of my blinded devotion was an American Italian named Rachel who has since made a great success out of her verbal charm and pearl whitened teeth. At the time it was clearly to see that her temper took the best from us. After many fights over her preoccupation with pornography and organic therapeutics we ended our great love with an aggression on her part that left a 5cm impression of those very whitened teeth on my left thigh just below my bikini line.
Having mostly erased this great trauma from my memory I was very disturbed to see her face up to mine in my dreams. This first occurred a month ago and shocked me so that I jumped from my bed and almost impaled my left foot on a shoe horn. I have since lowered my mattress to the floor to avoid physical disability. Since the nature of these frequent dreams have come in two variations: simply her face is nose to mine as if to use her eyes like a Dracula's fangs to drain me or in a more complicated and frightening sequence her floating head is chasing me through a subway tunnel ************** biting the air as I helpless run as if falling through a darkened spiral. They both end only when I wake in a state of panic that is followed by a feeling of distended gas in my abdomen.
As I do not believe in psychotherapy since I discovered my last consular was a fan of the English comedian Rowan Atkins in a most inappropriate sense I thought it practical to come to better understand the heart land from which my current state of mental distress originated and sew to seek advice from the relatives even if distant of my former lover.
Mr. Sable didn't take it down. Why provoke a fight where there is nothing to provoke. The real question is would you be as concerned if he had said his wife was sorry for being a dick?
Or, are men so superior that words are unable to disparage them so there is no need to concern oneself about using disparaging language against men?
It's besides the point, but to any and all who get so concerned about words "harming others" I have a standing offer for any takers.
Disparage me with whatever words you want. I'll even supply you some you might be reticent to say publicly. Then, answer the following question, "Why is it that there are absolutely NO words that raise me to anger or harm me and yet, supposedly, for a good part of our population apparently, why is it that words can absolutely crush and demoralize them and give rise to violent anger? Does this have more to say about the affect of victimhood then it does words? Or are we all suppose to cry when someone says something nasty and to our dislike?
Pass the tissue paper.
And give me a break.
Disparage me with whatever words you want. I'll even supply you some you might be reticent to say publicly. Then, answer the following question, "Why is it that there are absolutely NO words that raise me to anger or harm me and yet, supposedly, for a good part of our population apparently, why is it that words can absolutely crush and demoralize them and give rise to violent anger? Does this have more to say about the affect of victimhood then it does words? Or are we all suppose to cry when someone says something nasty and to our dislike?
Pass the tissue paper.
And give me a break.
With many kind of regardless of notions, I divulge of you the pretty electonic thought!
I would add, if anyone wants to be concerned about the victimization of women, there's so much very real, significant and unprecedented violation of women's rights going on that there is no need at all to get excited about something as trivial as quoting something an ex wife said that contained the "c word".
Here are some real ways men are abusing women: biological men taking over women's sports...including even a man beating the shit out of a woman in cage fighting. Biological men in women's and girls' restrooms...violent, sexual predator biological men being put into women's prisons...biological men punching women who are protesting these types of things, biological men being put into women's college dorms and fraternities, etc.
Where are the valiant male protectors of women and girls in regard to the above?