The TROLL on the ARBR newsgroup came under heavy fire in January 2007. One of our most avid and prolific debaters, JimmyMac, even popped off a few frivolous ditties much like some of mine, presumably to annoy it even more. It must have worked because we were besieged by posts from the TROLL itself and the fragmented figment of its (lack of) imagination 'nget' [never get enuffadat TROLL?]. One of fifteen or so similar taunts:
> I am only interested in what Wayne... thinks of [Jim's] efforts to date?
Well, I realize that Jim may have been unable to sleep, gnawing his fingernails in anxious anticipation, pacing the floor, and going out of his mind with worry waiting for me to grade his metrical mischief, but... as long as it seems to annoy the TROLL even more, I'm maintaining the suspense. Sorry, Jim... hey, why is he smiling?
Imagine the online ogre, slurringly shrieking as each day passes with no response to his quandary... unable to cope with his emotional distress except by kicking one of the cats (a small, sickly, declawed one, of course; we all know the TROLL is not especially brave about any actual physical confrontation.)
I had made arrangements for Jim's poetry to be studied for several weeks in a local community college class, but in the first week the instructor spent fifteen minutes talking about that poofy pudnutz Prufrock poem the TROLL loves so much, and everybody dropped the class.
But what of the TROLL's claims of artistic excellence? Well, in the field of poetry at the very least, it's a great con-oh-sure. Note its repetitive requests to be appointed moderator of a newsgroup, for example. Is it possible that it entirely missed much of the message in Rev Chuck's The Walrus and the Carpenter? Picture the TROLL and 'Marg the Biter', in costume, gloating over their (empty) newsgroup:
But answer came there none –|
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.
Sadly, in actual fact, the TROLL seems to think poetry has to be some kind of dark, depressing exercise for exploring the depths of one's dismal despair. It's a hard burden to bear when one is simply unable to grasp the distinction between the poems of Edward Lear and
Edgar Poe. It really isn't that tough, folks. I mean either one might begin a verse with this line:|
When awful darkness and silence reign...|
However, if the title of the poem is The Dong with a Luminous Nose, I'm thinking: Poe? No. Lear here.
But hey, with a little help, even a Poe poem can be perked up enough to make it interesting to those of us who think it's perfectly alright for poetry to make a person smile. For example, here's one about a raven – oops, I mean ravin' – misanthrope:
More than once, at midnight, bleary,|
ARBR's TROLL, outraged or teary,
At its keyboard sat, mistyping
Misspelled words and errors, hyping
Its IQ and education...
Goodness, such prevarication!
Its immaculate conception? –
Vying, plying, trying, lying...
Clicking on his mouse, keys tapping,
Taunting Tom, then poking Perry.
Rapping, slapping, snapping, crapping...
Is there hope its fumbling fingers
Nothing new, just repetition;
Galling, trawling, crawling, brawling...
Last updated Jan 18 2007