As usual, on Saturday mornings I like to read The Dilbert Blog while I eat brekky and drink my yummy coffee. This morning I discovered an insult I don't remember hearing before- autofellating. It was in this context (and from this post):
My philosophical noodlings on this blog, and in a few of my books, has produced wonderfully entertaining angry reactions from people who – and this is just a guess – are self-important, humorless, autofellating, ass hats.
Haha. Is that like calling someone a cocksucker, but of their own? That's so classic.
Ass hat has it's own peculiar flavour. Like, what is an ass hat exactly? If I was to imagine an ass with a hat, in reality the only hat an ass really wears is underwear or perhaps diapers? So is it a person with an ass for a face and a diaper or underwear on their head? Haha, ok that was a bad attempt to understand that one. Hmm... then does it mean they wear an ass on their head like a hat? Or maybe they are wearing a hat akin to a dunce cap, and it says ass on it?
Oh geez, perhaps this is another of my Jessica Simpson moments. I have no idea what it means! Someone please explain...
2 comments:
Good Morning
I am your rare visitor known to you as the the Florentine. But actually, there are two branches of my Family. The Florentines and the Sicilians. We are very very old. We have been here for a thousand years. Actually, we are Normans, who invaded Sicily a millenium ago.
I am telling you this because I am in a moment of philosophical crisis and it has nothing to do with women or fast cars.
My fathers were baptized and married in churches that were once mosques and were converted to churches by the Normans. This is who I am.
My name is first recorded in history by monks at around 900 AD. My fmaily took place in battles fought to expel the moors from southern Italy. For that servuce, we were awarded lands and titles by the papacy.
I am now in a moment of grave philosophical crisis.
I have returned to Sicily, the ancient seat of my fathers. On a clear day I can see the African Coast. The Muslim. My blood lies on those shores. and his blood lies upon mine.
Why am I here? I was born in a country of vast forests and countless rivers and lakes.
I am in the Old Norman Fortress of Troina. Here we fought against the Muslim. My tombs are in this place. From here we fought the Muslim down to the sea.
I am alive. I am here. After a thousand years nothing changes.
You can sleep tonight.
For a millenieum, the same eyes have watched from the same walls.
I have a multitude of crises as well, nothing to do with women or fast cars either. Or Sicily.
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