Tag: quotes

Stupid man who can’t play chess resorts to empty threats

WASHINGTON—Unable to win a chess game against me, a frustrated man is using empty threats and other juvenile methods of intimidation in hopes of overpowering me.

Francisco Madero, 57, gave up all hope when I took his queen early on in the game.

“He put his knight on C7 and put me in check, and I could have castled before that, but I forgot to do that,” he said. “And then the only thing I could do was to take the knight with my queen, and that’s when he took her with that goddamn bishop.”

A flustered and fuming Mr. Madero glowered at me. Caressing his now taken queen, he hissed, “I loved that woman. I loved her more than sharks love blood.”

“F. U., you dumb piece of shit,” I explained.

“A lion does not ask permission before he eats a zebra,” he retorted. “So I’m gonna eat your zebra.”

“But there is no fucking lion. Or zebra. You don’t even have your queen and bishops anymore,” I explained. “But yeah, I’ll have your antelope medium rare.”

“You’d better watch your mouth,” he hissed.

“Hey, man. If you don’t like how the table is set, turn over the table,” I said.

Mr. Madero complied, literally turning the table to play white instead. He said, as he shifted his chair closer to the table, “Power is a lot like real estate. It’s about location, location, location.”

Much to Mr. Madero’s chagrin, I again gained the upper hand. “Eat that, motherfucker,” I said, as I took his last rook. But he refused to back down.

“The road to power is paved with hypocrisy. And casualties,” he whispered, choking back tears. “There are two kinds of pain. The sort that makes you strong, or useless pain. The sort of pain that’s only suffering. I have no patience for useless things.”

I moved a piece.

“Checkmate.”

 

 

Rain Man annoys hipsters by flawlessly quoting Nietzsche, eats organic tapioca puddings

COLUMBUS—Autistic savant Raymond Babbitt has incensed an exclusive group of hipsters who quote passages from philosophers whom everyone has heard of but doesn’t really understand.

“God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him,” he recited repeatedly during poetry night at Kafe Kerouac, Columbus’s ultimate bastion of genuine hipsterdom. “Nietzsche, my main man!”

Jealous of Mr. Babbitt’s formidable philosophical quoting abilities, swathes of scarf-wearing, artisanal cheese-eating minions of America’s moribund liberal arts culture have attempted to overshadow the autistic savant’s brilliance by quoting passages from Hegel, Kierkegaard, and Derrida.

Mr. Babbitt, however, was not dissuaded by the green-eyed hipsters. “The body is our general medium for having a world,” he said, echoing Merleau Ponty. “Yeah. Merleau Ponty. My main man.”

derrida
Derided by many academic philosophers as an overrated pseudointellectual charlatan, Derrida is now Raymond Babbitt’s “main man.”

Unfortunately for Mr. Babbitt, it seems that hipsters are not the only people who are unhappy about his achievements. Professor of philosophy Bruce Mayer Ginsburg lamented, “It’s sad to see such brilliance go to waste. We have someone who can count toothpicks faster than Bertrand Russell, who could have revolutionized logic before Saul Kripke came along, or been recognized as a crucial figure in American politics like John Rawls, or even ruled the Roman Empire like Marcus Aurelius.

“Instead of doing good academic philosophy, or counting cards, or whatever rain men like to do, he sits around in his artisanal jacket sipping seven-dollar vegan espresso drinks with ridiculous names like ‘Of Mice and Zen’. He complains about the nutritional value of Qantas Airlines’s organic tapioca pudding. He says he has to get an undercut. He’ll throw a tantrum in thirty seconds if he has to use Windows instead of Mac.”

When Beagle reporters asked Mr. Babbitt to comment, the savant said that his accusers were “mansplaining.” He added, “To pretend, I actually do the thing: I have therefore only pretended to pretend. Main mansplaining. Uh-oh! UH-OH! Ow! Ow! OW!”

He explained, “Derrida. My main man.”