Portal:Literature
As the generally accepted definition of literature today hugs folktales to its warm bosom, we might well conclude that literature began with one frightened caveman grunting (see language) his fears to his fellows by firelight. This, however, would be wrong. Scurrying, short and bitter academics in dank bare cells have clinically proven that 'literature' is caused by writing down things which never happened and which afflict the reader with acute boredom , in some cases literally boring the victim to death.
Today, the study of literature remains a major academic discipline at nearly every educational institution around the world, often being the most heavily required class for graduation. This is because academics have declared that finding themes (which the author totally intended to put in the work) is far more important than learning first aid, basic home and auto repair, or how to do your taxes. However, there is one major benefit to the study of literature: without it, as many as half of the jokes in your favorite TV shows would fly right over your head. (See more...)
Nineteen Eighty-Four (also known as 1984) is a novel written by visionary George Orwell way back when men were traveling by horse and oliphant. It depicts a world of totalitarianism where an evil entity, known as the Party, ruthlessly rules over everyone and everything. It was originally written on holly wood tree bark and moose skin until someone discovered the magnificent work and published it when the technology became available.
For those of you who have not read the book, never mind this article, stop reading right now and go on with your lives. There's nothing to see here. This book doesn't exist, it never existed. Cleanse your memory, reboot yourself and don't forget to show up to work tomorrow. For those who did read the book, go back to Room 101 to get your electroshocks and learn to think like the Party wants you to. You'll eventually realize that 2+2=5. Right before the Party shoves you in a barrel full of acid and vaporizes you into thin air. At least they'll let you chose between mint and strawberry scent. (See more...)
Such woe, my bladder filled right to the brim
If but perchance I sought to take a leak
Yet now my pantaloons now stainèd swim
In urine which now dribbles down my feet!
If only to the loo I'd gone posthaste,
Such musings are the act of lesser men;
My fav'rite pair of leggings would not waste,
But truth be told, I'll piss my pants again.
I never learned to listen to 'ol Blad
My colon wretches yet I never poo
Now brown and yellow mix with tidings glad,
Instead of me relaxing on the loo.
Now no fair maid could ever risk a glance
They run away because I shit my pants!
Sylvia Plath (October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963) was a suicidally-depressed female poet. She is generally considered to be one of the best writers to work within the suicidally-depressed-female genre, having written several classics of depressing female literature, including the poetry collections Ariel and The Colossus and the novel The Bell Jar.
Since her suicide at the tender age of 30, Plath has grown to become a feminist icon; often perceived as a female genius who struggled within a patriarchy who dismissed her literary expression and sought to demean her as a sex object. She is was also a hottie.
Plath was born, quite aptly, during the Great Depression. As she said in her poem The Suicide Cloud: "for me, the Great Depression never ended". Her mother was a teacher of English, while her father was a bee enthusiast who made his name by writing two books about bees. Apparently he couldn't say everything he wanted to with just one book about bees. Plath's parents were clearly huge influences on her for the rest of her life, and from a very young age she became dedicated to poetry – poetry that contained a frankly baffling multitude of references to bees. (See more...)
LAS VEGAS, Nevada – In a surprising move, acclaimed American author and journalist Hunter S. Thompson has admitted to taking banned drugs at the peak of his career. Thompson, who died in 2005, finally admitted to ingesting a potentially lethal cocktail of banned substances during the late 1960s and "pretty much all of" the 1970s - the period many acknowledge as the peak of his achievements - during a post-mortem interview with our UnNews reporters.
During the period in question, Thompson wrote the series of books that made his name, and most critics agree he "knocked them right out of the park". Thompson himself has stated that he took the drugs "purely for health benefits", and asserts that they "had no effect on my writing - there's no pill in existence that gives you the mind-brain co-ordination required to write a great novel". Prominent critics are lining up to disagree, with one stating "Thompson might assert that the drugs didn't affect his writing, but give me a break - the giant lizard people, the bats, the creeping paranoia, it's amazing no-one suspected this before!" (See more...)
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