Adam@Home by Rob Harrell for April 22, 2010
Transcript:
Voice: We're here at the behest of our superior. Laura: Leave us alone! Voice: We must speak to you! Laura: Should we open the door? Adam: Why not? How bad could english-lit thugs be? Laura: Right. "Sticks and stones..." Adam: Okay. We're gonna open the door. But no rough stuff. Voice: Duly noted. No Thomas Pynchon, no James Joyce.
dante.deangelo over 14 years ago
And for gosh sakes, no Tolstoy!
COWBOY7 over 14 years ago
Hey, this is getting good!
AddADadaAdDad over 14 years ago
No Joyce, HA! that’s funny.
Tawanda over 14 years ago
I’m enjoying this as well. Can’ t wait for tomorrow!!
dfischer348 Premium Member over 14 years ago
No Pynchon – that just won’t do –
JerryGorton over 14 years ago
get you laptop out…and boot up!
Allan CB Premium Member over 14 years ago
Joyce is fine … just don’t make me read “Kate Goslins” book! PLEASE!
ottod Premium Member over 14 years ago
Hey! This strip is getting funny again!
Karen345 over 14 years ago
I’ve loved this week, and today’s was my favorite so far.
linwoodbragg over 14 years ago
This strip has been funny since Harrell took over.
FDNY over 14 years ago
Brillianto!
KimberlyT over 14 years ago
haha, I’m an English major. This is hilarious! My professors would love this.
Yukoneric over 14 years ago
When did gonna become an acceptable word in the King’s English?????????????
MisngNOLA over 14 years ago
Professor Jennings (Donald Sutherland) in Animal House:
“Don’t write this down, but I find Milton probably as boring as you find Milton. Mrs. Milton found him boring too. He’s a little bit long-winded, he doesn’t translate very well into our generation, and his jokes are terrible.”
A perfect weapon against the literary thugs.
fritzoid Premium Member over 14 years ago
dante, there’s no need to worry about Tolstoy, nor your namesake. They’re English lit thugs.
Personally, I’ve no love for Joyce, but Pynchon holds no terror for me. The truly scary part is when they break out the Twilight Saga, or the latest from Nicholas Sparks…
fritzoid Premium Member over 14 years ago
I also have a cyanide capsule implanted in my molar in case I’m ever threatened with D.H. Lawrence or the Romantic poets.
fritzoid Premium Member over 14 years ago
Bulwer-Lytton wasn’t nearly the hack that people nowadays think of him. He, with his “dark and stormy night” sentence, was merely a prominent producer of a style of prose that was once fashionable but is no longer so. I won’t go to the mat in his defense, but it’s primarily a question of changing tastes. You can find sentences just as bad as any of Bulwer-Lytton’s in just about anything by Dickens. That’s one of the unintended consequences of paying authors by the word.
POPPA1956 over 14 years ago
LOOK OUT! THEY HAVE LIMERICKS!
celeconecca over 14 years ago
Limericks done well are a joy. But Lit thugs use them to annoy; To threaten and scare Like an old hirsute bear, Is their tired old nitpicking ploy.
An Iron Hand in a Velvet Glove over 14 years ago
I’d never laughed at Adam in my life. The streak is now over.
fritzoid Premium Member over 14 years ago
Threaten to rob Adam of his good name, guys! It enriches you not, but leaves him poor indeed!
fritzoid Premium Member over 14 years ago
The best way to protect your home from invasion by English Lit thugs is a sign reading “Beware of Doggerel.”
DonVanni over 14 years ago
Beware of the big bad (Virginia) Woolf!
fritzoid Premium Member over 14 years ago
I’m no Man Who Would Be King, rricchhterrrrrr. A king is a thing… A thing of what? Nothing. (There’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.)
A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, For and a shrouding sheet: O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet.
“A spade? What wilt thou do? thou wilt not neuter me?”
I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. … What should such fellows as I do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all, and we’ll steal your tarts, and take them clean away. Get thee to a bakery, and soon!
Young men will do ‘t, If they come to ‘t, By Coq! they are to blame!
O what a roué and pleasant knave am I!
The grave’s a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace. So try our coffins built for two, Something something something screw! [Needs work. - Ed.]
There. I’m Donne.