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fr_defenestratoBy way of murdering Harry Potter, I herein also refuse STAUNCHLY to capitulate to all the semi-literate dickweeds of the English-speaking world who have attempted to retire the perfectly good word "stanch" in favor of the marginally related "staunch". This is a pet peeve of mine; more and more "staunch" is an acceptable variant for "stanch", but I won't have it. I won't.
Most recently I heard the doctor character on Lost, who really oughtta know better, ask for "a shirt, or anything to staunch the bleeding," at which line I involuntarily put my head through the wall. Doubtless Rowling is far less of a dunderhead than the average teleplaywright; doubtless her books will sell for millennia, or at least the 20 or so viable years this shit-scuttled earth has left in her; but fuck her anyway for positively monopolizing the cultural dialog.
Enfin, red victory to what's-his-name
Accretes! Dear Hagrid wonders what to do...
Quick! Staunch the flow of blood! (and steadfast too,
Austere and aubergine, that lately came,
Arterial or venous, just the same
From slash and scar and mouth and misplaced shoe—
The foot inside intact). And only you
And Wunderkind himself can share the blame.
Had you but stanched the bleeding, this poor lad
May well have lived to vanquish Valdemort,
Retire his quidditch number, and desport
With Ronald (as he always wished he had).
At last, at least, I need no more exhort
Ms. Rowling to cease reeling off this chad.
Most recently I heard the doctor character on Lost, who really oughtta know better, ask for "a shirt, or anything to staunch the bleeding," at which line I involuntarily put my head through the wall. Doubtless Rowling is far less of a dunderhead than the average teleplaywright; doubtless her books will sell for millennia, or at least the 20 or so viable years this shit-scuttled earth has left in her; but fuck her anyway for positively monopolizing the cultural dialog.
Enfin, red victory to what's-his-name
Accretes! Dear Hagrid wonders what to do...
Quick! Staunch the flow of blood! (and steadfast too,
Austere and aubergine, that lately came,
Arterial or venous, just the same
From slash and scar and mouth and misplaced shoe—
The foot inside intact). And only you
And Wunderkind himself can share the blame.
Had you but stanched the bleeding, this poor lad
May well have lived to vanquish Valdemort,
Retire his quidditch number, and desport
With Ronald (as he always wished he had).
At last, at least, I need no more exhort
Ms. Rowling to cease reeling off this chad.
