Thursday, May 05, 2005

My Fellow Snarkers Suck

Simple message to my fellow Snarkers: get your lazy asses in gear, or you're fired--especially you, Bill Blood--not one post from you. Unless, perchance, you are really r.c. bald... What the fuck is up with that guy? Hong Kong expat poetry? I thought Sebald was a dead fiction writer obsessed with the holocaust and old photographs.

update: I Googled "R. C. Bald," and it appears the dude is real--either that, or he has stolen this other guy's name. Shockingly, Bald seems to be a successful, well-published scholar--which means he is also either a nutjob with too much free time on his hands or that he is doing a hell of a job acting like that's the case. Hats off to you, crazy Hong Kong dude. We've added you to our elite list of linked sites. (If this doesn't make sense to you, read this guy's whack comments in my recent posts). Oh and in case you missed it: David Allen Evans, it turns out, is the Poet Laureate of South Dakota. Go figure. Shumway's fate remains undetermined. Anyone know? Any speculation?

Next week, in addition to our "Lost Poets of the 70s" series, I will be snarking Mark Strand (photo accompaniment), and I will describe the philosophy of the snark. Stay tuned...


Blogger R.C. Bald said...

On the contrary, friend, I am R.C. Bald, & my name, oddly enough, is R.C. Bald. I must tell you primarily that my interest here is in fostering a healthy & encouraging dialogue, indeed. Secondly, permit me a moment to apply some sense of historicity to your narrow view of poetic lineage (even, as it were, as it extends into the realm of experimental narratives). I, along with other artists (I think namely of W.C. Rogers & B.W. Dictionary), found the artistic & socio-political landscape of the late 60s rather tiresome & vacuous, as it were; devoid of possibility, fundamentally lacking in core virtues. Thus, we became expats, transplanted by our own eager dedication to our art & craft, & found ourselves in Hong Kong. Sebald, you will note, was in school-trousers, his supple young hands drawn over pictures in Boy's Life magazine, surely. One thing precedes the next, dear friend, lovely snark, & thus is lineage born. Borne aloft on the wings of our predecessors, so they say, dear friends. Well, I am your predecessor, whether or not my work is taught. Friend, can we be just that? Can't we foster an ongoing dialogue with Apolline Beauty at its base? With criticism adjacently polite, yet with the adoring Bacchic rabidity of a claque? Let us help one another, dear snark, as we all must, dear friends. I am R.C. Bald, & I am here to preserve a legacy long forgotten...

1:52 PM, May 05, 2005  
Blogger Snark said...


We don't do healthy and encouraging dialogue here. We do glib and mean-spirited rants. You want healthy dialogue? Go read Silliman's yawn-fest. But I've looked at your blog, and you are one crazy pop tart, that's for sure. I like crazy, and my favorite flavor pop tart is cinnamon. So I say to you fair Bald, you are welcome here at the Snark. Even your senile ramblings are better than some of the losers that comment in these threads, and you've written more text here than all of my supposed "fellow snarkers" combined. So while your crap ex-pat verse licks skunk turds, I am going to link to your site, elevating you to the ranks of Ali G's Amazon Reviews of Poetry and Criticism, Robert Frost's Blog, and even the might H. Dagger, pirate extraordinaire.

5:53 PM, May 05, 2005  
Blogger R.C. Bald said...

Ah dear friend, I am encouraged by your acceptance & feel pleased as punch that you will provide your dear readers a glimpse into the world that was, in its bounty, its glory & its bath of pathos. I will dedicate myself to illucidating the Hong Kong expat scene, as it were, as it seems an epoch largely lost upon young readers. Fascinatingly, I believe its verse, its poetics if you will, goes along way towards closing the divide of which you speak, twixt the overtly intellectual & the unthinkingly heartfelt. We must recall the Kabalah, dear friends, which halves & halves again the human body until at its center is a thinking heart. Ah, friends, I feel blessed this morning to find myself among such company.

6:46 AM, May 09, 2005  
Blogger Ginger Pennebaker said...

Your gentle flogging urges us on, O Master of Snark! Let us leave no stone unturned in our rampage against all weak, facile, and over-produced verse!

Who be the producers
Of these over-produced verses, Ye'd like to know?
Stay tuned and I shall show
My hand.

12:13 PM, May 10, 2005  

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