“The short is hereby pronounced dead, as a form. Consider this its epitaph. I know there are a lot of you out there who will disagree, post ‘long live the short’ and so forth, but you’ll be posting to a funeral, your post a eulogy, your pants special ceremonial death-pants, the kind one would wear to a funeral. In fact anything you could possibly do or say is just the version of itself that goes along with a funeral. So, for instance, if you happened to build a fire, say in the fireplace or if you were camping, it would be a pyre. All nails are doornails. All rights, rites. And all poop is remains, don’t forget, from now on. And only the death of the short itself is itself. And no, that doesn’t mean it lives on in our hearts. It doesn’t. It’s dead. Blackness. Nothingness. Okay? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Date Written: November 22, 2004 Author:Ewan Snow Average Vote: 4
Comments:
11/30/2004Will Disney: Long live the Short!
11/30/2004TheBuyer: Aww fuck.
11/30/2004The Rid: Awesome. I was going to write a short about shorts, but now I can't.
11/30/2004Chance the Gardener (3): God, you are such a LAMER! LOL!
11/30/2004The Rid (4): Four stars for the fake anti-short stance.
11/30/2004Mr. Pony: Author, what exactly do you mean by "short"?
11/30/2004anonymous: as in short-short, as in acme shorts as in, you know, the stuff on this site. duh!
11/30/2004qualcomm: why are there quotes around this? are they ironic? are they "dirty quotes?"
11/30/2004Dylan Danko: Pony stop talking to yourself.
11/30/2004Mr. Pony: Danko, you should know that I always try to use correct sentence capitalization. Therefore, the author cannot be me. See how the author wrote in all lower-case there? That's not something I do. Hence, I am not the author of this. Right, author?
11/30/2004anonymous: wrong, pony. you are the author. you're writing with lower case letters to trick people!
11/30/2004Mr. Pony: Please, author, you are distracting the readers. Come on, everyone, let's cast some votes!
11/30/2004qualcomm (4): i like this quite a bit, but can't quite give it a five due to its essential insideness.
11/30/2004anonymous: Your pants are special ceremonial death-pants.
11/30/2004qualcomm: my pants are just as God made them, sir.
11/30/2004The Rid: Ho ho! I smell controversy!
11/30/2004Mr. Pony: That might just be the dead rotting form.
11/30/2004anonymous: your post is but a eulogy, pony.
11/30/2004TheBuyer: my Hindu shorts will be back, sir, every last one of them. put that in your nihilist pipe and smoke it.
11/30/2004John Slocum (3): It's a sad day when the short-short dies.
11/30/2004anonymous: No it's not.
11/30/2004Jon Matza (5): More complex than first meets the eye. I like how the speaker's attitude is "this is so because I called it." Look again, voters...and let your conscience be your guide.
11/30/2004qualcomm: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!
11/30/2004Jon Matza: That's more like it!
11/30/2004The Rid: Seriously. This is controversial. Hee hee!
11/30/2004scoop: This short stirred several male emotions in me. But cerebrally, that is in my brain, I have a separate set of questions. If everything that happens after this obit has to do with the funeral then what of an unemployed funeral director? Or horny Puerto Ricans teens with a healthy disregard for "protection"? Or, furthermore, what of an unemployed funeral director with a TEC-9 pointed at the heads of Puerto Rican teens forcing them to engage in intercourse so that they will reproduce? I don't feel (male emotion) nor do I think this short adequately deals with those narrowly defined questions. As for the end of the short I feel my male emotions on that particular subject are expressed in these moving words of Live's Ed Kowalcyk:
lightning crashes, a new mother cries
her placenta falls to the floor
the angel opens her eyes
the confusion sets in
before the doctor can even close the door
lightning crashes, an old mother dies
her intentions fall to the floor
the angel closes her eyes
the confusion that was hers
belongs now, to the baby down the hall
oh now feel it comin' back again
like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind
forces pullin' from the center of the earth again
I can feel it.
lightning crashes, a new mother cries
this moment she's been waiting for
the angel opens her eyes
pale blue colored eyes,
presents the circle
and puts the glory out to hide, hide
ps -- the dead short is the old mother crying and the new vibrant short is the new mother crying.
11/30/2004anonymous: Scoop, each of those things is the version of itself (whatever that may be) that applies or refers to the death of the short. In all creation this is true, for all objects at all times from now on. So don't ask me what's the new version of a dog, a cat, etc. I'm trying to explain a general pattern which I'd hoped I wouldn't have to spell out even more plainly. It’s all the version of itself that has to do with the death of the short, motherfucker.
11/30/2004scoop: Feel it comin' back again, Author, you fucking cocksucker, like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind.
11/30/2004Jon Matza: I hope this doesn't come across as too brutally honest...but I don't see how this latest exchange amounts to you two fellows letting your conscience be your guide.
11/30/2004Litcube: I didn't know this short very well, but somehow, now that I know about this short, I feel an odd connection with this short. I wish I knew this short in life, and that I would have spent more time with it. I should have told it in the living years, and I thought I’d share this piece written by a group of mechanics and their boss, Mike, to convey how I really feel: Crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect thought
Stilted conversations
I'm afraid that's all we've got
You say you just don't see it
He says it's perfect sense
You just can't get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defense
Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
It's too late when we die
To admit we don't see eye to eye
11/30/2004qualcomm: what subjects will you tackle next in the short format, author?
lightning crashes, a new mother cries her placenta falls to the floor the angel opens her eyes the confusion sets in before the doctor can even close the door
lightning crashes, an old mother dies her intentions fall to the floor the angel closes her eyes the confusion that was hers belongs now, to the baby down the hall
oh now feel it comin' back again like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind forces pullin' from the center of the earth again I can feel it.
lightning crashes, a new mother cries this moment she's been waiting for the angel opens her eyes pale blue colored eyes, presents the circle and puts the glory out to hide, hide
ps -- the dead short is the old mother crying and the new vibrant short is the new mother crying.