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19 January 2007

"You smell a bit, like long-forgotten cheese." "Even Paris Hilton could outwit you."
Yes, this is an iambic pentameter insult thread.
post by: Wolfdog at: 12:06 | 51 comments
This thread will languish dying, sad and lonely.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 12:33
The 'Hilton' one does not seem right to me.
posted by chrismear 19 January | 12:35
"Hilton" is fine - "could outwit you" is dodgy, but "could outwit" it too gorgeously rhymthmic to argue with. I give it a "9".

(this was not an iambic pentameter insult - mods, delete at will)

posted by taz 19 January | 12:45
But 'even's not an iamb, don't you think?
posted by chrismear 19 January | 12:49
I got an f in creative writing class.

Never could master the iambic pentam.
posted by Lola_G 19 January | 12:51
A tit-for-tat, you twit, to wit: You twat!
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson 19 January | 12:52
Actually, I think I got a b or a c in the class BUT my first F in college came on the pentameter quiz.
posted by Lola_G 19 January | 12:53
She walks in beauty like the night.
Of cloudless climes and starry skies.
And all thats best of dark and bright.
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.

/cheating.
posted by Lola_G 19 January | 12:55
Hm. I read "even" as an iamb. e-ven. As in, "I don't Even care!"
posted by taz 19 January | 12:57
EEEvehn
posted by taz 19 January | 12:58
That's not an iamb, though; that's the reverse.
posted by chrismear 19 January | 12:59
o wait - yeah? Hmmm.
posted by taz 19 January | 13:02
no! INVERSION! I looked it up! it's legal!
posted by taz 19 January | 13:05
PerHAPS you COULD at LEAST comPLAIN in KIND.
Or ARE you Even DULLer THAN i THOUGHT?

posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 13:05
I clearly missed the insult portion.

I am an idiot...oh I give up.
posted by Lola_G 19 January | 13:06
"Oh, Even Paris Hilton could outfox you."

It's just a little tiny rhythmic shift.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 13:07
actually I'm getting the "could outwit you" now. I give it a "10" in the category of imabic pentameter insults.
posted by taz 19 January | 13:12
this is far too intelligent for me. Insult at will
posted by TheDonF 19 January | 13:13
hey! Don't go changing "outwit" to "outfox", you cunning wolf! Not because of the iamb, but "could outwit" is just clearly much better. I'm going to date "could outwit"; we're going to the movies, and then, maybe a cocktail.
posted by taz 19 January | 13:15
Inversion's fine for loose types: I am strict.
posted by chrismear 19 January | 13:20
No love for mine, you mangy, flea-bit swine?
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson 19 January | 13:22
Im a loose type. Yes, a slattern.

There, I've said it.

HA! I was just getting ready to say "where the hell is Florence Henderson?"
posted by taz 19 January | 13:25
oh. Flo did the tit thing earlier. If I were less a slattern, I'd have noticed!
posted by taz 19 January | 13:27
chrisMear, your feet are truly as they should be;
your mom, however, dropped you on your head.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 13:27
No love for mine, you mangy, flea-bit swine?

It's raining? So you say; I differ.
It seems to me it's mixing -- metaphors.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 13:28
A metaphor in Meta for the win?
If mixing dogs and pigs is such, I sin.
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson 19 January | 13:31
How nice that dogs and pigs go hand in hand
Too bad your breath would kill them where they stand.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 13:34
Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha.
Blah blah, blah blah, blah blah, blah blah, blah blah.
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson 19 January | 13:37
It's Raining Florence Wolfdog!

*dances*
posted by taz 19 January | 13:37
[NOT IAMBIC PENTAMETER]
posted by taz 19 January | 13:38
You know, you sound an awful lot like Beavis.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 13:40
"You know, you sound an awful lot like Beavis."

Moaned Butthead from all fours into the shag.
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson 19 January | 13:45
In Metachat, they strive and strain with verse,
with every added couplet scanning worse.
Iambs and rhymes and pentats flick'ring through
in pieces; rare, all three, and seldom two,
but rather isolated, feeble jabs:
those flaccid, half-formed grade-d poe'try slabs.

But then, you say, I'm hardly one to talk?
Well, suck thee on "The Nunnery": my cock.
posted by cortex 19 January | 13:49
And Wolfdog's lines eleventh quanta bear:
"iAMBi"'s not the end by which we swear.
posted by cortex 19 January | 13:51
I will admit I like to do it "doggy"
But sooner with a dog than - ugh - with you.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 13:53
Dear cortex, you pathetic little blemish,
I'm glad to see you've finally learned to count.
However, when one likes his endings femme-ish
Eleven seems to be the right amount.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 14:00
My reckoning: Flo absent from purview,
thou Wolf would still for pleasure doggies do.
posted by cortex 19 January | 14:01
Eleven is the scoundrel's refuge fin,
where ten cannot contain the tripe therein.
posted by cortex 19 January | 14:05
It may be tripe, but still it's all in fun
And tripe invites some truly offal puns.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 14:09
Oh, damn! I didn't end it with a slur;
Take this, you balding no-name cocksmack cur!
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 14:12
I'm out of here, but please, sir, in my wake:
Might you deplane your motherfuckin' snake?
posted by It's Raining Florence Henderson 19 January | 14:13
It's all in fun's the death of proper sport:
oh knight, your rapier wit's grows grey and dull!
Attend with force to jilt in your retorts!
I've worse from better had, in sonnets full.
posted by cortex 19 January | 14:14
(In truth, for games of jabs I sing false song
whilst dearly wishing all could get along.
But such is no doubt understood by all,
and so I'll pin thine balls against yon wall.)
posted by cortex 19 January | 14:18
You'd pin them? Oh, my friend, I don't think so!
My jewels would fairly make a stallion cry.
You'd need at least a railroad spike - and, oh,
It isn't "thine", you feeble prat, it's "thy".
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 14:33
You've got more 'oh's than Motorola, 'dog.
Invert! The trochee doesn't mean your doom.
I think we've heard enough about your jewels,
and as for you and cortex, get a room.
posted by box 19 January | 14:53
I speak too much of jewels, so box has ruled;
He speaks as one who stands here unbejeweled.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 15:07
Nice couplet, 'dog, for a mathematician.
But the caesuric jabs? Abolish 'em.
You cloud my sunny disposition.
My jewels? Come over here and polish 'em.
posted by box 19 January | 15:23
Thine matched to vowel, thy to consonant;
your point is scored; well met, you mere pedant.
And box? Those rough mishapen stones you bear
would earn from jewelers naught but laughs and stares.
posted by cortex 19 January | 16:52
I've naught to fear if that's the best you've got;
And now my day is done; I'm heading home.
So please feel free to take the parting shot
It's time for drinking beer, not writing poems.

How fares an ancient rooster, boiled in stock?
Don't ask me, ask these other tasteless cocks.
posted by Wolfdog 19 January | 17:04
I have tried time and time again to understand what the heck a pentameter, hexameter, or whatever, is, and I have failed every time. Also no clue what the heck an anapest is. Iamb dumb.
posted by Eideteker 19 January | 17:09
Pentameter, Eide, is five feet.
Feet are a unit of meter.
An iamb scans ta-TUM.
Anapest is you, dear reader.
posted by box 19 January | 21:50
← Balding no-neck cocksmack flirts with reasserting theocracy. Film at 11. || Hometown Democrat, Part II →

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