Clearly Morrissey is outflanking you all again

Poet

Banned
Morrissey has always been on step ahead of everyone and here, with his book, he's showing us, yet again, he's 35 steps ahead. All I hear on this website is jealousy and envy. Keep up the good work.

Kewpie, administrators, whoever, please DO NOT change the titles to my threads, they are meant to be all capitalized and are protected under FREE SPEECH, DO NOT EDIT.
 
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Uncleskinny

It's all good
Subscriber
Morrissey has always been on step ahead of everyone and here, with his book, he's showing us, yet again, he's 35 steps ahead. All I hear on this website is jealousy and envy. Keep up the good work.

Kewpie, administrators, whoever, please DO NOT change the titles to my threads, they are meant to be all capitalized and are protected under FREE SPEECH, DO NOT EDIT.

PROTECTED UNDER FREE SPEECH DO NOT EDIT.

You got it buddy.

Have you read this...?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Emperor's_New_Clothes
 

Uncleskinny

It's all good
Subscriber
OK, P. We all get it. You read the TALE, how many more times are you going to remind us? The Emperor's New Clothes has NOTHING---I REPEAT---NOTHING TO DO WITH THE GENIUS OF MORRISSEY. Wise up.

I see we are fighting a losing battle here.

blinders.jpg

Best of luck.
 

vegan.cro

Banned
The pleasure that one has in creating a work of art is a purely personal
pleasure, and it is for the sake of this pleasure that one creates. The
artist works with his eye on the object. Nothing else interests him.
What people are likely to say does not even occur to him.
So, Viva Moz.
 

Poet

Banned
Most people don't pay attention to Morrissey well enough. You're forgetting one of his most telling quotes which states something to the effect of, "I think it's more interesting to give people what they DON'T want."
 
Silly, silly people who can't come to terms with the fact that their dwindling hero has just shat out the literary equivalent of The Room.
 
Most people don't pay attention to Morrissey well enough. You're forgetting one of his most telling quotes which states something to the effect of, "I think it's more interesting to give people what they DON'T want."

Oh, well that one childish quote certainly absolves him from putting out failure after failure. Clearly this consistent run of badly received crap is some ironic work of postmodern genius.
 

Poet

Banned
Oh, well that one childish quote certainly absolves him from putting out failure after failure. Clearly this consistent run of badly received crap is some ironic work of postmodern genius.

Failure after failure? Please expound on that, will you? Morrissey is more successful than all The Smiths individually and combined, you, your family, your extended family and millions upon millions of people, so please, do tell us about the "failures" you speak of. Mike Joyce is a failure, not Morrissey.
 

Mozza220559

Surmontil 50
Morrissey has always been on step ahead of everyone and here, with his book, he's showing us, yet again, he's 35 steps ahead. All I hear on this website is jealousy and envy. Keep up the good work.

Kewpie, administrators, whoever, please DO NOT change the titles to my threads, they are meant to be all capitalized and are protected under FREE SPEECH, DO NOT EDIT.

Nice tits
 
Failure after failure? Please expound on that, will you? Morrissey is more successful than all The Smiths individually and combined, you, your family, your extended family and millions upon millions of people, so please, do tell us about the "failures" you speak of. Mike Joyce is a failure, not Morrissey.

I refer as you well know to his recent recordings and now this book. And you know nothing of my success or how I choose to measure it. Morrissey's lack of success and terms of measuring it on the other hand are blatantly clear from the fact that he throws his toys out of the pram time and time again with regard to sales, chart positions and critical standing. He has as good as said that his recent works failed in his own eyes. If he didn't believe they had he wouldn't be bitching about it.

Also as a side note you don't understand what the concept of free speech is or the fact that it does not apply to the content of a privately owned website which the moderators and owner are free to edit exactly as they see fit. That's pretty ignorant.
 
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Chip

Member
I've spent a lot of time on here arguing with people who have a very unhealthy, obsessive hatred of Morrissey. People who for some reason feel the need to devote their lives to their hatred of a stranger and often times make up things out right and ignore facts.

I am fairly certain that none of the people on here criticizing Morrissey's book are jealous or envious of it. Same goes for the people writing the bad reviews.
 

Poet

Banned
I refer as you well know to his recent recordings and now this book. And you know nothing of my success or how I choose to measure it. Morrissey's lack of success and terms of measuring it on the other hand are blatantly clear from the fact that he throws his toys out of the pram time and time again with regard to sales, chart positions and critical standing. He has as good as said that his recent works failed in his own eyes. If he didn't believe they had he wouldn't be bitching about it.

Also as a side note you don't understand what the concept of free speech is or the fact that it does not apply to the content of a privately owned website which the moderators and owner are free to edit exactly as they see fit. That's pretty ignorant.

Recent recordings and this book are a success, what planet are you on? I know enough about you to know you are not successful, especially in terms of and in comparison to Morrissey and you f***ing KNOW IT TOO. Morrissey has never said he's failed. HE HAS said that he's proud of everything he's done, if he stopped today, he'd be proud of his output, again, you can keep trying to make up lies, but it doesn't make them true. This could go on, but I think I've made my point--you choose to ignore it, speaking of ignorant.

The website has declared a "freedom of speech" stance. So if what you say is true, said privately owned website should never...ever...talk about free speech. It should do as it pleases and it does. If it intends to edit, hide, cover up - and it in fact HAS covered things up - changed and deleted people's posts, then that's fine, just don't talk about free speech. They only pull out the free speech clause when it comes to people trashing Morrissey. When it comes to posting illegal material and documentation that is libelous, well, THEN things change. David T., under the GUISE of free speech posted intimate details of a business arrangement WITH a confidentiality agreement INTACT about Morrissey paying his crew. That, dipshit, is illegal, and not free speech. BECAUSE Morrissey and David sort of "fell out", THEN it became open season on Morrissey and not before. The insanity of it all, is if someone doesn't like you and clearly you don't like them, why would you continue a website about them, and further, why would you continue to go to a website about him? There's only one reason: Revenge. Not free speech, but revenge, so before you say anything, try to study your history a bit more or shut the f*** up. Also, try to point out the administrator's mistakes and see what happens - and there are many things to point out - see how fast free speech goes out the window. But f*** all that, I don't even care. If you really believe in free speech, you DO NOT change, edit or otherwise manipulate someone else's words. EVER. No if, ands or buts. Never. So now we're clear that this website does NOT believe in free speech, point taken.

Fortunately for the administrator, the damages are fairly minimal as no one takes this website that seriously AND the the site traffic is a lot less than it used to be. So the threat has long since been neutralized. The critics somehow help to make you. The people who like Morrissey far outnumber those that don't. So go on with your hate machine, it's boring, but go on.
 
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A

Anonymous

Guest
I've spent a lot of time on here arguing with people who have a very unhealthy, obsessive hatred of Morrissey. People who for some reason feel the need to devote their lives to their hatred of a stranger and often times make up things out right and ignore facts.

I am fairly certain that none of the people on here criticizing Morrissey's book are jealous or envious of it. Same goes for the people writing the bad reviews.

i dont think it a hatred of morrissey either nor envy or jealousy but rather a desire to hassle other people, other users, as well as the need to validate themselves and there own ideas. adding a crowd audience makes people do funny things, take really extreme positions and use "debate" tactics they would never use face to face as they start to worry about how they look or come off. its hard for people to say i just dont know or to say wow im sorry i over reacted there. stuff i rarely see on public forums that anyone would i think would normally teach there own children. as a person whos about to have a child i often think would i want him or her to act this way, the way i myself am acting and will i, would i want to, teach them to do so. if i cant and want to be someone my children can respect, i.e not a liar or a fake then i have to face that i cant and dont want to be that person. i wont be
 

Poet

Banned
I've spent a lot of time on here arguing with people who have a very unhealthy, obsessive hatred of Morrissey. People who for some reason feel the need to devote their lives to their hatred of a stranger and often times make up things out right and ignore facts.

I am fairly certain that none of the people on here criticizing Morrissey's book are jealous or envious of it. Same goes for the people writing the bad reviews.

I guess you have the pulse of the people. Everything is a matter of taste. Before the book even came out, I could've told you what people would say. It's the same thing over and over and over, if not envy or jealousy, then what? Morrissey IS a genius, can you say otherwise? If so, who the hell are you to say so? And it goes on and on and on and on. A critique rarely is about the thing being criticized, it is much more about the critic themselves, which is why critiques are pointless. Art cannot be criticized EVER, only appreciated or not. Southpaw Grammar was trashed when it came out, I bought it and I liked it. It wasn't Vauxhall & I, but then again, WHY WOULD MORRISSEY RELEASE A f***ING VAUXHALL & I Part II? The live shows in 1995 were some of the best of his entire career, with the Southpaw material, so you see, f*** the critics. Also, the Beatles sucked.
 

Chip

Member
I guess you have the pulse of the people. Everything is a matter of taste. Before the book even came out, I could've told you what people would say. It's the same thing over and over and over, if not envy or jealousy, then what? Morrissey IS a genius, can you say otherwise? If so, who the hell are you to say so? And it goes on and on and on and on. A critique rarely is about the thing being criticized, it is much more about the critic themselves, which is why critiques are pointless. Art cannot be criticized EVER, only appreciated or not. Southpaw Grammar was trashed when it came out, I bought it and I liked it. It wasn't Vauxhall & I, but then again, WHY WOULD MORRISSEY RELEASE A f***ING VAUXHALL & I Part II? The live shows in 1995 were some of the best of his entire career, with the Southpaw material, so you see, f*** the critics. Also, the Beatles sucked.

Um...ok.

For the record, I think Southpaw Grammar is a criminally underrated album. I have seen Morrissey live five times since 2012 and he is a superb, tip top live perform. I would see him five more times. Fifteen even. I would consider him to be a genius. Art can be criticized. The Beatles are fine. Certain people on this forum would attack the book even if it was Proust. It seems very possible that his book is not Proust. In fact, it seems somewhat probable that the book may be objectively not very good. I feel bad for Morrissey given the heaps of negative reviews. He, however, is not infallible.
 

Poet

Banned
Um...ok.

For the record, I think Southpaw Grammar is a criminally underrated album. I have seen Morrissey live five times since 2012 and he is a superb, tip top live perform. I would see him five more times. Fifteen even. I would consider him to be a genius. Art can be criticized. The Beatles are fine. Certain people on this forum would attack the book even if it was Proust. It seems very possible that his book is not Proust. In fact, it seems somewhat probable that the book may be objectively not very good. I feel bad for Morrissey given the heaps of negative reviews. He, however, is not infallible.

Um...OK.
 
A

Anonymous

Guest
Um...ok.

For the record, I think Southpaw Grammar is a criminally underrated album. I have seen Morrissey live five times since 2012 and he is a superb, tip top live perform. I would see him five more times. Fifteen even. I would consider him to be a genius. Art can be criticized. The Beatles are fine. Certain people on this forum would attack the book even if it was Proust. It seems very possible that his book is not Proust. In fact, it seems somewhat probable that the book may be objectively not very good. I feel bad for Morrissey given the heaps of negative reviews. He, however, is not infallible.

proust made something really interestingly odd and it was more interesting because of how odd he himself was and just the sheer length and density of it. remembrance is like three thousand pages alone and of course features a character that is a fictionalized proust. if you wanna attack something for run on sentences story structure strange language the author inserting himself and odd mystical anything, all of which was said here by some as flaws, his novel certainly could for sure be criticized. i mean his whole story is sparked by dunking a cookie in tea and it went on forever. heres one of his sentences. i wonder if it was released now would people say it horrible and in need of an editor. not even gonna mention the sex scenes with albertine as being what people today think of as natural

"Their honour precarious, their liberty provisional, lasting only until the discovery of their crime; their position unstable, like that of the poet who one day was feasted at every table, applauded in every theatre in London, and on the next was driven from every lodging, unable to find a pillow upon which to lay his head, turning the mill like Samson and saying like him: “The two sexes shall die, each in a place apart!”; excluded even, save on the days of general disaster when the majority rally round the victim as the Jews rallied round Dreyfus, from the sympathy — at times from the society — of their fellows, in whom they inspire only disgust at seeing themselves as they are, portrayed in a mirror which, ceasing to flatter them, accentuates every blemish that they have refused to observe in themselves, and makes them understand that what they have been calling their love (a thing to which, playing upon the word, they have by association annexed all that poetry, painting, music, chivalry, asceticism have contrived to add to love) springs not from an ideal of beauty which they have chosen but from an incurable malady; like the Jews again (save some who will associate only with others of their race and have always on their lips ritual words and consecrated pleasantries), shunning one another, seeking out those who are most directly their opposite, who do not desire their company, pardoning their rebuffs, moved to ecstasy by their condescension; but also brought into the company of their own kind by the ostracism that strikes them, the opprobrium under which they have fallen, having finally been invested, by a persecution similar to that of Israel, with the physical and moral characteristics of a race, sometimes beautiful, often hideous, finding (in spite of all the mockery with which he who, more closely blended with, better assimilated to the opposing race, is relatively, in appearance, the least inverted, heaps upon him who has remained more so) a relief in frequenting the society of their kind, and even some corroboration of their own life, so much so that, while steadfastly denying that they are a race (the name of which is the vilest of insults), those who succeed in concealing the fact that they belong to it they readily unmask, with a view less to injuring them, though they have no scruple about that, than to excusing themselves; and, going in search (as a doctor seeks cases of appendicitis) of cases of inversion in history, taking pleasure in recalling that Socrates was one of themselves, as the Israelites claim that Jesus was one of them, without reflecting that there were no abnormals when homosexuality was the norm, no anti-Christians before Christ, that the disgrace alone makes the crime because it has allowed to survive only those who remained obdurate to every warning, to every example, to every punishment, by virtue of an innate disposition so peculiar that it is more repugnant to other men (even though it may be accompanied by exalted moral qualities) than certain other vices which exclude those qualities, such as theft, cruelty, breach of faith, vices better understood and so more readily excused by the generality of men; forming a freemasonry far more extensive, more powerful and less suspected than that of the Lodges, for it rests upon an identity of tastes, needs, habits, dangers, apprenticeship, knowledge, traffic, glossary, and one in which the members themselves, who intend not to know one another, recognise one another immediately by natural or conventional, involuntary or deliberate signs which indicate one of his congeners to the beggar in the street, in the great nobleman whose carriage door he is shutting, to the father in the suitor for his daughter’s hand, to him who has sought healing, absolution, defence, in the doctor, the priest, the barrister to whom he has had recourse; all of them obliged to protect their own secret but having their part in a secret shared with the others, which the rest of humanity does not suspect and which means that to them the most wildly improbable tales of adventure seem true, for in this romantic, anachronistic life the ambassador is a bosom friend of the felon, the prince, with a certain independence of action with which his aristocratic breeding has furnished him, and which the trembling little cit would lack, on leaving the duchess’s party goes off to confer in private with the hooligan; a reprobate part of the human whole, but an important part, suspected where it does not exist, flaunting itself, insolent and unpunished, where its existence is never guessed; numbering its adherents everywhere, among the people, in the army, in the church, in the prison, on the throne; living, in short, at least to a great extent, in a playful and perilous intimacy with the men of the other race, provoking them, playing with them by speaking of its vice as of something alien to it; a game that is rendered easy by the blindness or duplicity of the others, a game that may be kept up for years until the day of the scandal, on which these lion-tamers are devoured; until then, obliged to make a secret of their lives, to turn away their eyes from the things on which they would naturally fasten them, to fasten them upon those from which they would naturally turn away, to change the gender of many of the words in their vocabulary, a social constraint, slight in comparison with the inward constraint which their vice, or what is improperly so called, imposes upon them with regard not so much now to others as to themselves, and in such a way that to themselves it does not appear a vice."
 

Poet

Banned
proust made something really interestingly odd and it was more interesting because of how odd he himself was and just the sheer length and density of it. remembrance is like three thousand pages alone and of course features a character that is a fictionalized proust. if you wanna attack something for run on sentences story structure strange language the author inserting himself and odd mystical anything, all of which was said here by some as flaws, his novel certainly could for sure be criticized. i mean his whole story is sparked by dunking a cookie in tea and it went on forever. heres one of his sentences. i wonder if it was released now would people say it horrible and in need of an editor. not even gonna mention the sex scenes with albertine as being what people today think of as natural

"Their honour precarious, their liberty provisional, lasting only until the discovery of their crime; their position unstable, like that of the poet who one day was feasted at every table, applauded in every theatre in London, and on the next was driven from every lodging, unable to find a pillow upon which to lay his head, turning the mill like Samson and saying like him: “The two sexes shall die, each in a place apart!”; excluded even, save on the days of general disaster when the majority rally round the victim as the Jews rallied round Dreyfus, from the sympathy — at times from the society — of their fellows, in whom they inspire only disgust at seeing themselves as they are, portrayed in a mirror which, ceasing to flatter them, accentuates every blemish that they have refused to observe in themselves, and makes them understand that what they have been calling their love (a thing to which, playing upon the word, they have by association annexed all that poetry, painting, music, chivalry, asceticism have contrived to add to love) springs not from an ideal of beauty which they have chosen but from an incurable malady; like the Jews again (save some who will associate only with others of their race and have always on their lips ritual words and consecrated pleasantries), shunning one another, seeking out those who are most directly their opposite, who do not desire their company, pardoning their rebuffs, moved to ecstasy by their condescension; but also brought into the company of their own kind by the ostracism that strikes them, the opprobrium under which they have fallen, having finally been invested, by a persecution similar to that of Israel, with the physical and moral characteristics of a race, sometimes beautiful, often hideous, finding (in spite of all the mockery with which he who, more closely blended with, better assimilated to the opposing race, is relatively, in appearance, the least inverted, heaps upon him who has remained more so) a relief in frequenting the society of their kind, and even some corroboration of their own life, so much so that, while steadfastly denying that they are a race (the name of which is the vilest of insults), those who succeed in concealing the fact that they belong to it they readily unmask, with a view less to injuring them, though they have no scruple about that, than to excusing themselves; and, going in search (as a doctor seeks cases of appendicitis) of cases of inversion in history, taking pleasure in recalling that Socrates was one of themselves, as the Israelites claim that Jesus was one of them, without reflecting that there were no abnormals when homosexuality was the norm, no anti-Christians before Christ, that the disgrace alone makes the crime because it has allowed to survive only those who remained obdurate to every warning, to every example, to every punishment, by virtue of an innate disposition so peculiar that it is more repugnant to other men (even though it may be accompanied by exalted moral qualities) than certain other vices which exclude those qualities, such as theft, cruelty, breach of faith, vices better understood and so more readily excused by the generality of men; forming a freemasonry far more extensive, more powerful and less suspected than that of the Lodges, for it rests upon an identity of tastes, needs, habits, dangers, apprenticeship, knowledge, traffic, glossary, and one in which the members themselves, who intend not to know one another, recognise one another immediately by natural or conventional, involuntary or deliberate signs which indicate one of his congeners to the beggar in the street, in the great nobleman whose carriage door he is shutting, to the father in the suitor for his daughter’s hand, to him who has sought healing, absolution, defence, in the doctor, the priest, the barrister to whom he has had recourse; all of them obliged to protect their own secret but having their part in a secret shared with the others, which the rest of humanity does not suspect and which means that to them the most wildly improbable tales of adventure seem true, for in this romantic, anachronistic life the ambassador is a bosom friend of the felon, the prince, with a certain independence of action with which his aristocratic breeding has furnished him, and which the trembling little cit would lack, on leaving the duchess’s party goes off to confer in private with the hooligan; a reprobate part of the human whole, but an important part, suspected where it does not exist, flaunting itself, insolent and unpunished, where its existence is never guessed; numbering its adherents everywhere, among the people, in the army, in the church, in the prison, on the throne; living, in short, at least to a great extent, in a playful and perilous intimacy with the men of the other race, provoking them, playing with them by speaking of its vice as of something alien to it; a game that is rendered easy by the blindness or duplicity of the others, a game that may be kept up for years until the day of the scandal, on which these lion-tamers are devoured; until then, obliged to make a secret of their lives, to turn away their eyes from the things on which they would naturally fasten them, to fasten them upon those from which they would naturally turn away, to change the gender of many of the words in their vocabulary, a social constraint, slight in comparison with the inward constraint which their vice, or what is improperly so called, imposes upon them with regard not so much now to others as to themselves, and in such a way that to themselves it does not appear a vice."

I love you.
 
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