Sunday, August 9, 2009
'Ya got city hands, Mr. Hooper, ya been counting money all your life.'
Nothing starts a Sunday morning like the umpteenth screening of Jaws.
I don't need church: Quint is my minister.
He has more than enough proverbs and parables at the ready to satisfy the Ned Flanders in me, with a sanctimonious holier-than-thou air about him that would make any man of the cloth proud.
Even as he reenacts Jonah and the Whale for us at the end of the movie, there's a kind of twinkle in Quint's eyes, as if to say, "I'll be watchin' you - keep that chum line goin' now".
Indeed. Keep that chum line going. Sage advice for all of us.
Spam for breakfast
I'm often baffled by the intent of certain spam I receive (the email rather than the meat variety, though I'm baffled by the latter as well).
I'll spare you the subject line of the one that compelled a second look on my part this morning (suffice to say it mentions the promise of intercourse in a barn but with an especially odd turn of phrase). And really, it was the body of the message that was most intriguing, mainly in its unintentional obfuscation:
Liquor raps about extra mile and building are damn
help in keeping a told to right as to es dort wohl zu
die Gratispostille "Punkt The Top other content, Show" fan but this isn’t necessarily
and drama continues this fans, get ready to who stretch the meaning
There are touches of German here, but no signs of the sex barn I was expecting. You know, comely Amish Rachel Lapp getting it on with John Book by car-light among the hay and the cows. Talk about raising her barn! That sort of thing.
Amish? German? Ahh, we're getting closer. But closer to where?
These words must have a larger meaning, a bigger purpose that I just can't grok.
Somehow, I think Quint would know. But there's no asking him. Damn Shark.