Grand jeu de pourrissement

La marquise de Fromulus doit à la communauté bloguesque plusieurs recettes, et certaines depuis très longtemps. Comme rien ne vient alors que son genoux en compote lui autorise à batifoler sur la toile et qu’elle doit s’acquitter de cette obligation, je décrète, en tant que roi de Cornusie centrale et septentrionale et duc héritier par alliance de la Genêtière occidentale qu’il convient, pour tous les lecteurs de ce blog, de pourrir de commentaires le blog de la marquise de Fromulus, jusqu’à ce qu’elle dépose les armes et nous pondent une note. Voici le lieu le défoulement : http://fromfromgirl.canalblog.com/

Comments

[Cornus]

A Laplumequivole> Tu vois bien que je ne suis pas foncièrement mauvais.

[laplumequivole]

"La bave de la grenouille n'atteint pas le bois dont on fait les flûtes !"



Ah celle-là je me la mets de côté, c'est une merveille.

[Cornus]

A Laplumequivole> Solidarité féminine ? Alors là, tu ne manques pas de culot ! Non seulement, Madame n'a plus de blog et ne nous fait plus profiter de ses anciennes recettes mises en ligne, mais en plus, elle vient dire du mal de celui qui tentait, de manière TOTALEMENT désintéressée, voire héroïque, de susciter une note sur un blog en sommeil depuis plus d'un an. Et je récolte des tonnes de commentaires infâmes que je ne commenterai pas. La bave de la grenouille n'atteint pas le bois dont on fait les flûtes !

[Cornus]

A Calyste> Solidarité professionnelle, c'est du joli ! Tu préfères les manger : j'entends bien et je te reçois 5 sur 5, mais n'oublions pas qu'ON lui a sympathiquement demandé des recettes et qu'elle ne les a pas fournies. Alors, moi, je fais preuve d'inititative pour le bien collectif !



Pour les champs à renseigner, je sais que Canalblog a changé son dispositif depuis quelques temps, sans nous demander notre avis, bien entendu, alors j'imagine que le site ne retient désormais le nom que si l'on se connecte à Canalblog ? C'est un peu le même cinéma chez toi, raison pour laquelle je m'étais inscrit. Crois bien que je n'y suis pour rien dans cette évolution détestable.

[laplumequivole]

From ! Arrête de ricaner !

[laplumequivole]

Mais si les amis veulent collaborer, hein...

[laplumequivole]

Je t'en prépare d'autres pour demain ?

[laplumequivole]

ou si tu préfères :



Bernardo

Who's there?!



Francisco

Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.



Bernardo

Long live the king!



Francisco

Bernardo?



Bernardo

He.



Francisco

You come most carefully upon your hour.



Bernardo

'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.



Francisco

For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,

And I am sick at heart.



Bernardo

Have you had quiet guard?



Francisco

Not a mouse stirring.



Bernardo

Well, good night.

If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,

The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.



Francisco

I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there?



Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS





Horatio

Friends to this ground.



Marcellus

And liegemen to the Dane.



Francisco

Give you good night.



Marcellus

O, farewell, honest soldier:

Who hath relieved you?



Francisco

Bernardo has my place.

Give you good night.



Exit





Marcellus

Holla! Bernardo!



Bernardo

Say,

What, is Horatio there?



Horatio

A piece of him.



Bernardo

Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.



Marcellus

What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?



Bernardo

I have seen nothing.



Marcellus

Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,

And will not let belief take hold of him

Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:

Therefore I have entreated him along

With us to watch the minutes of this night;

That if again this apparition come,

He may approve our eyes and speak to it.



Horatio

Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.



Bernardo

Sit down awhile;

And let us once again assail your ears,

That are so fortified against our story

What we have two nights seen.



Horatio

Well, sit we down,

And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.



Bernardo

Last night of all,

When yond same star that's westward from the pole

Had made his course to illume that part of heaven

Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,

The bell then beating one,--



Enter Ghost





Marcellus

Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!



Bernardo

In the same figure, like the king that's dead.



Marcellus

Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.



Bernardo

Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio.



Horatio

Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.



Bernardo

It would be spoke to.



Marcellus

Question it, Horatio.



Horatio

What art thou that usurp'st this time of night,

Together with that fair and warlike form

In which the majesty of buried Denmark

Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!



Marcellus

It is offended.



Bernardo

See, it stalks away!



Horatio

Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!



Exit Ghost





Marcellus

'Tis gone, and will not answer.



Bernardo

How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:

Is not this something more than fantasy?

What think you on't?



Horatio

Before my God, I might not this believe

Without the sensible and true avouch

Of mine own eyes.



Marcellus

Is it not like the king?!



Horatio

As thou art to thyself:

Such was the very armour he had on

When he the ambitious Norway combated;

So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,

He smote the steeled pole-axe on the ice.

'Tis strange.



Marcellus

Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,

With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.



Horatio

In what particular thought to work I know not;

But in the gross and scope of my opinion,

This bodes some strange eruption to our state.



Marcellus

Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,

Why this same strict and most observant watch

So nightly toils the subject of the land,

And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,

And foreign mart for implements of war;

Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task

Does not divide the Sunday from the week;

What might be toward, that this sweaty haste

Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:

Who is't that can inform me?



Horatio

That can I;

At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,

Whose image even but now appear'd to us,

Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,

Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,

Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet--

For so this side of our known world esteem'd him--

Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact,

Well ratified by law and heraldry,

Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands

Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror:

Against the which, a moiety competent

Was gaged by our king; which had return'd

To the inheritance of Fortinbras,

Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant,

And carriage of the article design'd,

His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,

Of unimproved mettle hot and full,

Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there

Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,

For food and diet, to some enterprise

That hath a stomach in't; which is no other--

As it doth well appear unto our state--

But to recover of us, by strong hand

And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands

So by his father lost: and this, I take it,

Is the main motive of our preparations,

The source of this our watch and the chief head

Of this post-haste and romage in the land.



Bernardo

I think it be no other but e'en so:

Well may it sort that this portentous figure

Comes armed through our watch; so like the king

That was and is the question of these wars.



Horatio

A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.

In the most high and palmy state of Rome,

A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,

The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead

Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets:

As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,

Disasters in the sun; and the moist star

Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands

Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:

And even the like precurse of fierce events,

As harbingers preceding still the fates

And prologue to the omen coming on,

Have heaven and earth together demonstrated

Unto our climatures and countrymen.--

But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!



Re-enter Ghost



I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!

If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,

Speak to me:

If there be any good thing to be done,

That may to thee do ease and grace to me,

Speak to me:



Cock crows



If thou art privy to thy country's fate,

Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak!

Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life

Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,

For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,

Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus.



Marcellus

Shall I strike at it with my partisan?



Horatio

Do, if it will not stand.



Bernardo

'Tis here!



Horatio

'Tis here!



Marcellus

'Tis gone!



Exit Ghost



We do it wrong, being so majestical,

To offer it the show of violence;

For it is, as the air, invulnerable,

And our vain blows malicious mockery.



Bernardo

It was about to speak, when the cock crew.



Horatio

And then it started like a guilty thing

Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,

The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,

Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat

Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,

Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,

The extravagant and erring spirit hies

To his confine: and of the truth herein

This present object made probation.



Marcellus

It faded on the crowing of the cock.

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes

Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

The bird of dawning singeth all night long:

And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;

The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,

So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.



Horatio

So have I heard and do in part believe it.

But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,

Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill:

Break we our watch up; and by my advice,

Let us impart what we have seen to-night

Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,

This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.

Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,

As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?



Marcellus

Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know

Where we shall find him most conveniently.



Exeunt

[laplumequivole]

On peut essayer ça aussi :

Daß alle unsere Erkenntniß mit der Erfahrung anfange, daran ist

06 gar kein Zweifel; denn wodurch sollte das Erkenntnißvermögen sonst zur

07 Ausübung erweckt werden, geschähe es nicht durch Gegenstände, die unsere

08 Sinne rühren und theils von selbst Vorstellungen bewirken, theils unsere

09 Verstandesthätigkeit in Bewegung bringen, diese zu vergleichen, sie zu

10 verknüpfen oder zu trennen, und so den rohen Stoff sinnlicher Eindrücke

11 zu einer Erkenntniß der Gegenstände zu verarbeiten, die Erfahrung heißt?

12 Der Zeit nach geht also keine Erkenntniß in uns vor der Erfahrung

13 vorher, und mit dieser fängt alle an.



14 Wenn aber gleich alle unsere Erkenntniß mit der Erfahrung anhebt,

15 so entspringt sie darum doch nicht eben alle aus der Erfahrung. Denn

16 es könnte wohl sein, daß selbst unsere Erfahrungserkenntniß ein Zusammengesetztes

17 aus dem sei, was wir durch Eindrücke empfangen, und

18 dem, was unser eigenes Erkenntnißvermögen (durch sinnliche Eindrücke

19 bloß veranlaßt) aus sich selbst hergiebt, welchen Zusatz wir von jenem

20 Grundstoffe nicht eher unterscheiden, als bis lange Übung uns darauf

21 aufmerksam und zur Absonderung desselben geschickt gemacht hat.

[laplumequivole]

Ce n'est qu'un début, bien entendu...

[laplumequivole]

Par exemple, des trucs dans ce genre :

En he c'hann edo al loar; dizolo e oa an neñvoù, ha sonet e oa nav eur noz, p'edomp, me ha mignoned din, o tistreiñ eus Clamart, nepell diouzh Pariz. Eno e oa bet graet banvez deomp gant mab an Aotrou a g/Cuigy, mestr an domani. Ar soñjoù a bep seurt degaset deomp diwar gwel ar voul safron-se a reas deomp c'hoarzhin tra ma z'aemp gant hon hent. Beuzet hor selloù er sterenn veur-se, unan ac'hanomp he lakae da lomber en oabl, unan all a enebe e oa anezhi ar bladenn gouevr ma fer Diana brennidennoù Appollo, unan all c'hoazh a youc'he e c'hellfe a-walc'h bezañ an Heol e-unan, diwisket gantañ e skinoù da serr-noz, o selleta dre un toull ar pezh a vez graet er bed goude m'en guita.

« Ha me, emezon, mennet ma 'z on da sammañ ma estlamm war hoc'h hini, hep diduiñ avat gant ar faltaziadennoù fentus a hilligit an amzer ganto a-benn ma 'z afe buanoc'h e-biou, me 'gred ez eus eus al Loar ur bed evel hon hini, hag ez a hon hini da loar dezhañ. »

Ur mell c'hoarzhadeg a-berzh lod eus ar gompagnunezh am digollas.

« Evelse, a lavaris dezho, emeur marteze bremañ war al Loar o c'hoapaat ouzh unan bennak all hag a zifenn ez eus ur bed eus ar voull-mañ. » Met kaer e voe ganin menegiñ e oa bet ar soñj-se endeo gant meur a ouizieien, ne ris nemet o lakaat da ziañchenniñ kalonekoc'h c'hoazh.

Ken don ennon e sankas ar mennozh-se, a-du e hardizhegezh gant liv ma spered, ha kennerzhet gant an dislavar, ken e chomis, tra 'z aemp gant hon hent, ac'hubet gant ul leizh a dermenadurioù loar ha na dapen ket o gwillioudiñ; ha dre ser skorañ ar gredenn lu-se gant arguzennoù hogozik poellek, e oan koulz lavaret kendrec'het; d'ar poent-se e voe kadarnaet ma frezegenn din, dre vurzhud pe dre zegouezh, pe c'hoazh dre skoazell a-berzh ar Brovidañs. Ha ne vern e vefe, war a lavarfe lod, da lakaat war gont gweledigezhioù, faltazi pe sorc'henn .

Distro e oan em lojeris hag, ha me aet tre em c'hambr, e kavis war ma zaol ul levr digor ha na 'm boa ket lakaet warni. Hini Cardan e oa; ha daoust ma ne oan ket gant an tres lenn ennañ, en em gavas ma daoulagad, evel dre nerzh, en un istor kontet gant ar prederour-se : danevelliñ a ra e welas, pa oa da noz o studiañ ouzh skleur ar c'hantol, daou gozhiad bras o tont tre dre dorioù serr e gambr, hag ar re-se, goude forzh goulennoù graet outo, a respontas e oant annezidi eus al Loar. Ha goude bezañ lavaret kement ez ajont diwar-wel. Ken sebezet e chomis, kement o welet ul levr degouezhet aze drezañ e-unan, ha gant an ampoent hag ar bajenn ma oa en em gavet digor, ken e komprenis ar chadennad darvoudoù-se evel ur sin ouzh ma atizañ d' ober d'an dud kompren e oa ur bed eus al Loar.

« Alato ! a lavaren ouzhin ma-unan, goude ma 'z eus bet komzet e-doug an devezh-mañ eus un dra, gouest e vefe ul levr, ken kaer all al levr nemetañ er bed a-zivout an dra-se, da zinijal eus ma levraoueg d'am zaol, da zont da vezañ speredet, da zigeriñ dres war pajenn un avañtur ken marzhus, ha goude bezañ kaset ma daoulagad warni, da bourchas neuze prederiadennoù d'am faltazi ha raktresoù d'am youl !...

Hep mar, a gendalc'his, ez eo an daou gozhiad bet deuet war-wel d'an den meur-se an hevelep re hag o deus dilerc'hiet ma levr, hag e zigoret war ar bajenn-mañ, a-benn espern poan ar brezegenn o doa graet endeo ouzh Cardan.

Met, a ouzhpennis, ne vin ket disammet eus an amzivin-se ma ne savan ket betek eno ?

Ha perak ne rafes ket ? a respontis kerkent ouzhin-ma-unan. Sevel a reas a-walc'h Prometheus betek an neñvoù, mennet da laerezh tan. Gwanoc'h eget e hini e vefe ma c'halon ? Ha lec'h a vefe da zoujañ bihanoc'h berzh eget e hini ? »

Da heul ar froudenn-se, a vefe moarvat lakaet da varradoù terzhienn loskus gant tud zo, e teuas an esperañs da gas ur veaj ken kaer da benn vat. Evit dont a-benn en em glozis war-ar-maez en ur c'henkiz distro a-walc'h hag eno, goude bezañ maget ma sorc'hennoù a-zivout un nebeud doareoù d'am c'has di, setu penaos en em rois d'an neñvoù.

Staget em boa ur c'halz a vuredadoù glizh tro-dro din, ha ken kreñv e skoe skinoù an Heol warno ken e voen desachet gant ar wrez evel ma c'hoarvez gant ar c'hoabrennoù, betek en em gavout a-benn ar fin en eil gevrenn eus an aer. Met, o vezañ ma saven re vuan gant an dedenn-se, e-lec'h tostaat d'al Loar evel ma vennen, e hañvale houmañ bezañ pelloc'h eget da boent ma dilerc'h, ha neuze e torris meur a vuredoù betek santout e oa trec'h ma fouez war nerzh an dedennerezh hag e oan o tiskenn war-zu an Douar. Ne oa ket gaou ar soñj-se rak hepdale e kouezhis en-dro warnañ; diouzh an eur ma oan loc'het e tlee bezañ hanternoz.

Koulskoude e verzis edo an Heol en e uhelañ war an dremmwel hag e oa kreiz an deiz. Soñjal a c'hellit a-walc'h pegen souezhet e voen; ken bras e voe ma eston ken e voen divergont a-walc'h, pa ne ouien ket pe abeg a oa d'ar burzhud, evit empentiñ en doa Doue tachet adarre an Heol ouzh an neñvoù, evit gwellañ mad ma hardizhegezh hag evit sklêrijennañ un embregerezh ken hael.

[laplumequivole]

Aïe, aïe, aïe, je crois que tu vas faire un gros bide, homme cruel ! Parce que moi aussi je soutiens Fromfrom, na ! Elle fait ce qu'elle veut d'abord !

Et pis ça serait un poil culotté de ma part d'essayer de lui soutirer des notes de blog, moi qui aie mis la clef sous la porte !

Même que je me dis : tiens, et si on pourrissait plutôt le blog de l'infâme Cornus avec des commentaires insanes et longs comme un jour sans pain/vin ?

Héhéhé...Faut voir...

[calystee]

J'ai vu que tu avais déjà bien commencé! Eh bien moi, je soutiens Fromfrom! Entre collègues! Et puis, les recettes, plutôt que de les lire, je préfère les manger!

A propos de pourrir la vie: il faut, chaque fois que je mets un commentaire chez toi, que je retape mon nom, mon email et mon site web, alors qu'avant, ton blog conservait ces informations. Pourquoi?