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Topic Review (Newest First)
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| May 3rd, 2006 05:10 AM | |||
| Pharaoh |
That's right, Fuzzy Wuzzy isn't so fuzzy now, he looks more like the scumbags below and persecutes the British these days.
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| May 2nd, 2006 10:50 PM | |||
| Dr. Boogie |
Quote:
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| May 2nd, 2006 08:49 PM | |||
| executioneer |
WHOOPS I MADE AN ERROR I MEANT TO SAY THIS:
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| May 2nd, 2006 04:59 PM | |||
| Emu |
black people 
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| May 2nd, 2006 04:42 PM | |||
| Pharaoh |
Quote:
Like the two chaps below. 
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| May 2nd, 2006 02:13 PM | |||
| MetalMilitia | Exceedingly good | ||
| May 2nd, 2006 10:44 AM | |||
| Dr. Boogie | I had always been told that Fuzzy Wuzzy was hairless, and so "Fuzzy Wuzzy" was a misnomer. | ||
| May 2nd, 2006 07:25 AM | |||
| Blasted Child |
Quote:
I admire some of his poetry for its poetic values alone, probably just as the nobel committee did back in 1907, and he did a great job with his children's fiction. But when it comes to politics, his views were positively despicable. |
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| May 1st, 2006 08:45 AM | |||
| Pharaoh |
Quote:
The problem with Muslims is they are anti-Western and in any conflict in the World they support the Muslim country over any Western one. That includes the country they're living in, England. Surely you don't think it's right that they should want British soldiers to be killed and that many of them actually go to Muslim countries to fight their own countrymen? Here's another one, it's language and attitude is un-pc but it's actually praising the fuzzy-wuzzies for their bravery. Fuzzy-Wuzzy We've fought with many men acrost the seas, An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not: The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese; But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot. We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im: 'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses, 'E cut our sentries up at Suakim, An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces. So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined. We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills, The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style: But all we ever got from such as they Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say, But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller. Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid; Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did. We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair; But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. 'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own, 'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards, So we must certify the skill 'e's shown In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords: When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear, An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more, If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore. But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair, For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! 'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead; 'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive, An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead. 'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! 'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, 'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn For a Regiment o' British Infantree! So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan; You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man; An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air -- You big black boundin' beggar -- for you broke a British square! |
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| May 1st, 2006 07:53 AM | |||
| Sethomas | That's because of your latent agreement to Kipling's racism against cobras and fanatic support of mongoose imperialism. | ||
| May 1st, 2006 04:40 AM | |||
| executioneer | i liked rikki-tikki-tavi | ||
| May 1st, 2006 03:13 AM | |||
| Sethomas |
I don't get that "more loyalty to Islam than England". Thomas Becket and Thomas More were both killed for having more loyalty to Catholicism than England. I guess maybe you wouldn't care about them since they worship the pope, which isn't too far off from worshipping the moon god. Are you just envious because the Church of England started off as a joke, and hasn't seen much improvement in the past five centuries? Maybe you can't relate to loyalty to Anglicanism as something palpable or worthwhile, but faith to one's deity should ALWAYS take precidence over his nationalism. It's authors like Rudyard Kipling that make white trash wish they could read. |
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| Apr 30th, 2006 09:25 AM | |||
| Blasted Child |
It's not more "wise and true" than the narrowminded xenophobic platitudes you'll hear any ignorant hillbilly murmur at your local pub. And it's not poetry, it's prejudice. |
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| Apr 26th, 2006 08:16 PM | |||
| executioneer | i don't know silly boy i've never kippled | ||
| Apr 26th, 2006 12:50 PM | |||
| Pharaoh | I like it mostly because it's so politically incorrect these days, and yet it's as wise and true now as the day it was written. Muslim immigrants here, for example, however good they may seem, have more loyalty to Islam than England and that's caused the 'bitter bread and wine' of the 7/7 London suicide bombings. | ||
| Apr 26th, 2006 10:56 AM | |||
| Sethomas | My guess: racist imperialistic fucks can be obtusely racist and imperialistic. "The White Man's Burden" is too effecient at being racist and imperialistic for it to be poetic. Siding with Kipling is pretty cut and dry. But someone like Wagner gets tricky because he was loved by both Nietzsche AND Hitler. Just WHO am I supposed to be offending when I listen to Parsifal? | ||
| Apr 26th, 2006 09:45 AM | |||
| sadie | why do you like it? | ||
| Apr 25th, 2006 05:15 AM | |||
| Pharaoh |
Rudyard Kipling I don't like much poetry but I like this one.  THE STRANGER THE Stranger within my gate, Â*Â*Â*Â*He may be true or kind, But he does not talk my talk — Â*Â*Â*Â*I cannot feel his mind. I see the face and the eyes and the mouth, Â*Â*Â*Â*But not the soul behind. The men of my own stock Â*Â*Â*Â*They may do ill or well, But they tell the lies I am wonted to, Â*Â*Â*Â*They are used to the lies I tell. And we do not need interpreters Â*Â*Â*Â*When we go to buy and sell. The Stranger within my gates, Â*Â*Â*Â*He may be evil or good, But I cannot tell what powers control — Â*Â*Â*Â*What reasons sway his mood; Nor when the Gods of his far-off land Â*Â*Â*Â*Shall repossess his blood. The men of my own stock, Â*Â*Â*Â*Bitter bad they may be, But, at least, they hear the things I hear, Â*Â*Â*Â*And see the things I see; And whatever I think of them and their likes Â*Â*Â*Â*They think of the likes of me. This was my father's belief Â*Â*Â*Â*And this is also mine: Let the corn be all one sheaf — Â*Â*Â*Â*And the grapes be all one vine, Ere our children's teeth are set on edge Â*Â*Â*Â*By bitter bread and wine. |
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