Twice before, our website brought together the finest minds of philosophy and had them debate important issues of the day. You can find these debates [url='http://www.somethingawful.com/index.php?a=3548']here[/url] and [url='http://www.somethingawful.com/index.php?a=3765']here[/url] (Although be warned that I sucked at html back then so if you read them in IE they’ll probably be all screwy).
Today, for the first time in months, SA is again host to the top minds of this and every generation. And, yet again, they will be discussing a question that has been at the top of your minds for months: What is this Dirty Riding stuff anyway?
I'll let the experts take it from here.
|"Oh my lovely Lolita, oh! How you take me flirty riding (a clever play on words, but I mustn't hide that we were also dirty, do you remember those filthy nights, my sweet thing?) across, I warrant, every city except Houston. Sweet angel you would turn to me and with those lips ask bashful Humbert the state of his affairs and it was all I could manage to whisper back 'I got 40 oz on my lap freezing my balls' and, with that confession, ride on."|
|"Tell me, O muse, of the man that so angered the gods with the filthy manner in which he rode that they called upon all forces of nature to rise up against him, yet he rolled past all trials to reach the ho that awaited him on distant shores. Of course, I don’t actually exist. But then, neither did the moon landing… "|
|"It was Jung who first described the sub-conscious archetype of Dirty Riding, often associated with the early stages of puberty. The mythological passion play that pits a hatin' patroller (this a projection of parental authority and often represented by a snake, which is both a phallic and vaginal symbol) trying to catch an innocent in the act of "ridin' dirty" (that is to say, establishing an independent line of authority separate from that of parent, or “patroller”), is well established. But if each mind that is rollin' could be seen as but a single violin, then together all the minds of the world form a symphony of ballin’ that presents itself in nearly every world religion.|
From the Aborigines and their "Tip Slowly/Sit Crooked" coming of age ritual to the famous biblical quotation "Turn thy music all the way up to maximum, but do not let the multitudes of Lebanon catch you twisted" (Leviticus 7:3, New Revised DJ Screw Translation), the face of the divine is revealed through the multiplicity of the human sizzurp experience.”
|"I'll get to dirty riding in a second, first I want to tell you what I really think of the Jews: [the following section edited by the Something Awful Committee For Not Getting Us Bombed By Crazies] When you see a Jew, it is your duty to ____ __ ___ ____ __ _____ ____ with great fury and vengence ____ __ _ ___ and futhermore, once the swords are heavy with blood to ____ ___ __ ___ _____ the cleansing fire of ____ __ _ ___ ____ ___ ____ __ and see if we don't. Of course, I mean this all in a spiritual, metaphorical sense.|
As for dirty riding, I'd say passing trend for sure. [url='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWy_Hanw_RE']Ghost riding[/url] is where it's all at now."
|"Hello! My name-a Borat! I don't feel to care much of your question! This would be because I have list of stock response to all query! Haha! You listen! I dislike the Jews! Barbara Bush look like old man! I say word for genitals in unexpect ways and then mention sex! Then I say is nice or hi-five after saying this! Also I sometimes imply incest to people who might be offend by this! This called "sharp social satire". Now I fart! Haha! Why yes, I do love money, I thank you very much! Great success!"|
|"Imagine if I were to tell that on some unreachable and unobservably distant planet there were beings known as Dirty Riders. Could you prove me wrong? No. But could you logically assume that there was no such thing as a Dirty Rider? YES.|
There are people all over the world who live their life with the assumption of Dirty Riding, but has a single one of them ever actually caught a Dirty Rider? I am sick and tired of these people telling me what I should and should not believe.
Now, here is what you should and should not believe:"
|"In the middle of this, my life’s own journey,|
I came to myself lost in the darkest wood,
My last memory that of riding dirty.
And the faint taste of a sparked blunt I still could
Sense on the tongue. How long, how far, I had swang,
But though the tinted glass of my Escalade should
Have hid my sin, still I felt a guilty pang
As they flashed those red lights and I stashed my dro.
To be a baller for real's no easy thang.
They had caught me fair, and had bade me go
To this darkest wood, sans pistola, sans ho.
'Go to hell,' the haters said, and I'll do so."
|"I used to do some dirty riding, but my girlfriend said she didn’t like it that way anymore. Ha ha! Ha! Seriously tho I’m in the laundry room hit me up if ur looking to party ;)"|
This Guy's Away Message
Hunter S. Thompson
|"Time again to dip myself into that raging, tumultuous shitstream they call the modern age. "Come on you BASTARD!" I shout to Pedro, but he is not there. Probably he never existed. But too late to worry about the wispy ghosts of my imaginary companions because it is time to go go go. I drive out of town as fast as I can, speeding anytime I pass close to pedestrians. When they describe my car to the police, I want them to be only able to say "It was some kind of blur. Color? God, it broke so many laws of physics that I guess it probably changes color every second."|
Two miles of rabid psychotic movement later I am parked on the side of the road, smiling innocently at the approaching policeman, with a cut open cantaloupe draped across my sweating head. "Are you riding dirty?" the pig asks me. "What?" I say, feeling the rind droop past my ear. "I said, are you riding dirty today?" I shake my head. "No sir! I’m driving under the influence of a massive amount of drugs and alcohol."
The pig flips his notebook close and stares hard at me. "You're an American literary treasure. Now if you'll excuse me I must arrest that car full of black people," he says, pointing wildly at every car on the road. I shrug and fling the cantaloupe high in the air as I drive off. Riding dirty? I’m riding HIGH."
That's all for now. I'd like to take this moment to thank all our special guests and remind you that if you have any further questions for our panel you can send them to [email protected] and I will forward them to the appropriate people.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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