Taking my toys and going home

by CarlD

You all are mean to me, don’t properly appreciate the wonderful gifts I bring, and degrade my life with negative energy. I write my fingers to the bone for you and all you can do is snark and squabble. Well, I’ve had it. In three minutes I will be deleting this blog and moving it to a safe and undisclosed location, comment-locked and sealed from the hurtful commentary of all you ungrateful wretches. You won’t have Dead Voles to kick around any more. Won’t you be sorry when I’m gone. And the horse you rode in on. And so on.

At least you could have the decency to celebrate May Day in a month. Out.


20 Comments to “Taking my toys and going home”

  1. I’ll be looking forward to carldyke2.wordpress.com, reborn with the same theme but with comments disabled–and no Russian spam!

  2. Fuggit, I’m too lazy and unproductive to reproduce all those smashing posts from this blog, especially when I could just turn off comments here and achieve the same end. Actually, I’m too busy pissing in other people’s litterboxes to go to my dashboard and turn off comments. Whatever, I’ll just ignore the stuff I don’t like anyway.

    Are there any exotic ingredients we should know about in Russian spam?

  3. Why, you punk, Carl! Rest assured that your new blog will still have the same allure, even from the vacuum-sealed privacy of its newly withdrawn existence…

  4. I think Russian spam includes Graham crackers–no harm in it, eh?

  5. Before you go could you at least post all your recent page-visit data?

  6. Before you go could you at least post all your recent page-visit data?

    Was that the case in the previous case we are all talking about without talking about it? I’d like to know that count, I’m very competitive and jealous like that.

    Carl, for what it’s worth, we had a good run, you know? I have no regrets, we just got tired of each other and the constant fighting and yelling, I respect you too much to go on with it like that. So let’s just go our separate ways, “like ships in the open sea” (Mayakovsky, I think)…

    P.S. I’m keeping the house, you can have your stupid god.

    P.S.S. I’m signing all of you up for the most recent attack of the Russian spam, the kind that gets into your Inbox and opens itself up…

  7. Please believe me when I say that when I become famous I will be friendly, generous and easy to talk to, or so I’ve heard.

    Mikhail, I’ve had it with your sweet talk. Get your sorry ass out of this blog and out of my life, you kulak, and don’t you dare take the hall rug, that was a gift from my outside reader and the satanic mill motif was hand-loomed by Harvard post-docs. You never understood me like Duncan understands me and he doesn’t snack loudly on old soup in his beard, either.

  8. Fine, I wanted to end this quietly and nobly in accordance with my intellectual nature, but you had to bring up the beard, didn’t you?

    Seriously, are we turning off the blog we are presently discussing? What made us change our mind? I thought the general opinion was “the guy’s a dude”? What gives?

  9. No, he’s still a dude, he just has an idiosyncratic attitude blogging that’s easy to parody. All in good fun, I hope.

  10. Totally a dude, dude, but with some interaction quirks I’m fooling with here given the day. We don’t do much with carnival in this country, except down Cero’s way, but still a bit of razzing is a venerable tradition for keeping relationships loose.

  11. Plautus:


    eandem hanc, si voltis, faciam ex tragoedia
    comoedia ut sit omnibus isdem vorsibus.
    utrum sit an non voltis? sed ego stultior,
    quasi nesciam vos velle, qui divos siem.
    teneo quid animi vostri super hac re siet:
    faciam ut commixta sit: sit tragicomoedia.

    “I’ll convert this same play from tragedy to comedy, if you like, and never change a line. Do you wish me to do it, or not? But there! how stupid of me! As if I didn’t know that you do wish it, when I’m a deity. I understand your feelings in the matter perfectly. I shall mix things up: let it be tragi-comedy. “

  12. Who had that line about stuff coming back as comedy? I’m too lazy to google it.

  13. M.E.: “Who had that line about stuff coming back as comedy? I’m too lazy to google it.”

    Kvond: Nietzsche, but in his version it made the dwarf faint. (I hope you’re not implying that Carl’s next blog is going to be more comical than the one he is shutting down today; or that Harman’s return of Heidegger’s repressed Tool-Being is in some way the hilarity of Nazi power.)

  14. Compare this from The Eighteenth Brumaire:

    “Hegel remarks somewhere that all great, world-historical facts and personages occur, as it were, twice. He has forgotten to add: the first time as tragedy, the second as farce.”

  15. Aha, that’s the one I was thinking of!

  16. …and then a third time, as theory. Which seeks to resolve the tension between tragedy and farce of the repetition, thinking that it is speaking a new language altogether, in the out-stretching of arms of an universalizing possibility: (from the same)

    “Man makes his own history, but he does not make it out of the whole cloth; he does not make it out of conditions chosen by himself, but put of such as he finds close at hand. The tradition of all past generations weighs like an alp upon the brain of the living. At the very time when men appear engaged in revolutionizing things and themselves, in bringing about what never was before, at such very epochs of revolutionary crises do they anxiously conjure up into their service the spirits of the past, assume their names, their battle cries, their costumes to enact a new historic scene in such time-honored disguise and with such borrowed language. Thus did Luther masquerade as the Apostle Paul;thus did the revolution of 1789-1814 drape itself alternately as Roman Republic and as Roman Empire; nor did the revolution of 1848 know what better to do than to parody at one time the year 1789, at another the revolutionary traditions of 1793-95. Thus does the beginner, who has acquired a new language, keep on translating it back into his own mother tongue; only then has he grasped the spirit of the new language and is able freely to express himself therewith when he moves in it without recollections of old, and has forgotten in its use his own hereditary tongue.”

    Like an alp on the brain of the living. Yes, talk about tragedy becoming farce becoming theory.

  17. And the day’s Appalling Groaner Award goes to:

    Greg, for “no harm in it.”

    Honorable Mention:

    Kvond, for turning nightmares into brain alps. The heights of theory have never seemed so forbidding and inaccessible.

  18. doh i missed the deadline for april fools jokes. oh well

  19. Yeah and since you said it a day late and therefore you meant it, I’m totally offended.

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