Goaders
Get a haircut, and get a real job,
Clean your act up, and don't be a slob,
Why don't you get it together like your big brother Bob?
And get a haircut, and get a real job.
George Thorogood, the eponymous ditty[1]
I've worked out what I need. I need a goader. In Irish mythology, when Cuchullain was battling the forces of Munster at the ford, he had his trusty charioteer Laeg by his side (never really thought about it, but perhaps there's some homoerotic subtext there. Nah ...). Wiping out hundreds of plebs a day will take it out of a fellow, so Cuchullain gave Laeg some rather specific orders. Whenever it seemed as if Cuchullain was beginning to tire, Laeg was to stand on the riverbank and call out the most vicious insults he could imagine at him. Casting aspersions on every aspect of his character, accusing him of weakness, impotence, you name it. In short, goading him, so that he would become angry and thereby more effectual in battle.
Supposing, then, (and this may be a little bit of a stretch) that I can be a hypothetical Cuchullain, and that studying is some hypothetical equivalent of murdering thousands of innocent plebeians sent into battle by a merciless nonexistent devious Irish war queen like Maeve, then what I need is a Laeg. Someone who, while I sit here procrastinating by writing tangential, uninteresting entries in my weblog, will walk in, box my ears and declaim 'Entro! You study like a girl!' or 'Call that studying? I've seen dismembered cockroaches who would make better students of telecommunications than you! And they had friends, and better web-logs, too!', sending me into a fury which would allow me to actually get some work done.
Anyway, applications are welcome: send relevant details together with a couple of sample insults to this email address.
Actually, I think what I need is a copy of myself to compete with. I'm sure we could goad each other quite well, and I'd know it'd be satisfying to beat the snotty git, since it'd always be a close run thing. Such an individual might also be useful for tandem suicide attempts.
[1] This song by George Thorogood is an insult to music. However, it does contain a modicum of salty, unreconstructed good ole boy wisdom.
Get a haircut, and get a real job,
Clean your act up, and don't be a slob,
Why don't you get it together like your big brother Bob?
And get a haircut, and get a real job.
George Thorogood, the eponymous ditty[1]
I've worked out what I need. I need a goader. In Irish mythology, when Cuchullain was battling the forces of Munster at the ford, he had his trusty charioteer Laeg by his side (never really thought about it, but perhaps there's some homoerotic subtext there. Nah ...). Wiping out hundreds of plebs a day will take it out of a fellow, so Cuchullain gave Laeg some rather specific orders. Whenever it seemed as if Cuchullain was beginning to tire, Laeg was to stand on the riverbank and call out the most vicious insults he could imagine at him. Casting aspersions on every aspect of his character, accusing him of weakness, impotence, you name it. In short, goading him, so that he would become angry and thereby more effectual in battle.
Supposing, then, (and this may be a little bit of a stretch) that I can be a hypothetical Cuchullain, and that studying is some hypothetical equivalent of murdering thousands of innocent plebeians sent into battle by a merciless nonexistent devious Irish war queen like Maeve, then what I need is a Laeg. Someone who, while I sit here procrastinating by writing tangential, uninteresting entries in my weblog, will walk in, box my ears and declaim 'Entro! You study like a girl!' or 'Call that studying? I've seen dismembered cockroaches who would make better students of telecommunications than you! And they had friends, and better web-logs, too!', sending me into a fury which would allow me to actually get some work done.
Anyway, applications are welcome: send relevant details together with a couple of sample insults to this email address.
Actually, I think what I need is a copy of myself to compete with. I'm sure we could goad each other quite well, and I'd know it'd be satisfying to beat the snotty git, since it'd always be a close run thing. Such an individual might also be useful for tandem suicide attempts.
[1] This song by George Thorogood is an insult to music. However, it does contain a modicum of salty, unreconstructed good ole boy wisdom.
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