What is the most pretentious sentence or paragraph you can write?

What is the most pretentious sentence or paragraph you can write?

>there is also beauty in the darkness
Joyce, James

I don't even know what pretentious means.

Life is but a speck in the universe, per se. So just let refugees in.

Kek

babadalalalgagagaglaheghegegehehthtughugneutnugngurhtuhuhruhhuhurhthernuk

My mind is universal in its salubriousness

None of my literary opinions are pretentious as I am not a pseud. Pretentious, judging by the -ous suffix, is the adjective form of pretension and I hold no pretensions in either it's definitions. Firstly my opinions aren't mere pretensions to fact: they are fact, and I can back up every word with an avalanche of arguments; a spontaneous oral essay that would make grad students blush. Secondly, my literary opinions are not pretensions in that they are meant to impress, though they inevitably do, they are merely the honest, crystalised thoughts of a piercing intelligence that surpasses almost all listener's comprehension. As you can see, pretentious would in no way apply to me, nor my literary opinions. Pretentious is actually just a word used by the envious to ensnare their betters; the sooner you free yourself from the word, the sooner you'll be able to truly appreciate and understand literature, like I do.

You tell me wise guy.

for you

Nice

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”

>i hold no pretensions in either it's definitions
>it's definitions
new criticism got me like is this a typo or legitimate misstep by the author or part of the character?

This is actually a very difficult exercise, especially for someone who lacks pretensions, such as myself. Of course, one could perform this exercise easily once one sheds his self-awareness; after all, self-awareness if often lacking in the pretentious, as is the ability to write compelling prose. The problem, however, is that my deep self-awareness is the very thing which prevents me from shedding it off, if even temporarily, in order to perform this exercise.

This sentence is simple in its complexity; but complex in its simplicity.

I'm CIA

Read the book A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Not a bad book per se, but definitely super pretentious. I bet the author is embarrassed reading it now.

what a hack

God isn't dead

What's a computer?

Everything I write is pretentious—including this comment.

This project aims to extend the anthropological analysis of the contemporary production of scientific knowledge of poverty, illness, suffering and violence. While the prioritization of funding for health disparities research has stimulated an unprecedented increase in epidemiological studies of the health and risk-behavior of marginal populations, there has been insufficient ethnographic attention paid to the scientific practices that produce this knowledge. This project seeks to understand how epidemiological categories of ‘at-risk’ populations are constituted; a critical feature of this analysis examines how behavioral epidemiologists and the humans they study interact to produce scientific sexual and drug-use knowledge. This project therefore links anthropology of science attentive to knowledge practices with urban anthropology that foregrounds the subjectivity of stigmatized groups. To understand the relation between the lived experience and social worlds of persons and the scientific practices by and in which they are transformed into a sexual category of risk, the researcher will examine the everyday practice both of behavioral epidemiologists and their human objects of study. Specifically, he will examine the epidemiological analysis a marginal group of people under study, on the one hand, and the epidemiological researchers conducting novel health disparity research, on the other. This “double focus,” necessary for rigorous data collection and analysis, has demanded a similarly dual methodology linking science and technology studies (STS) with contemporary urban anthropology.

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in guerilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.

ggez fgt

Oh dear - 'pretentious' is just the cretinous argot of subordinate brains like your own. AIas - I shouldn't expect much better of the median philistine that lurks this monotonous forum - oh but still the philistine that eats his own folly, the phillistine who's lowbrow quivers under its own weight proffering him blind, the phillistine that renders me the little amusement this inconsequential existence affords.

gawdam spaceniggers. they can crash on the fukkin moon. we're full.

>There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys. How’s the whater?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is whater?”
ftfy

Not me, but this thread made me think of this classic:

'Understanding Poetry,' by Dr. J. Evans Pritchard, Ph.D. To fully understand poetry, we must first be fluent with its meter, rhyme and figures of speech, then ask two questions: 1) How artfully has the objective of the poem been rendered and 2) How important is that objective? Question 1 rates the poem's perfection; question 2 rates its importance. And once these questions have been answered, determining the poem's greatness becomes a relatively simple matter. If the poem's score for perfection is plotted on the horizontal of a graph and its importance is plotted on the vertical, then calculating the total area of the poem yields the measure of its greatness. A sonnet by Byron might score high on the vertical but only average on the horizontal. A Shakespearean sonnet, on the other hand, would score high both horizontally and vertically, yielding a massive total area, thereby revealing the poem to be truly great. As you proceed through the poetry in this book, practice this rating method. As your ability to evaluate poems in this matter grows, so will, so will your enjoyment and understanding of poetry.

Thomas Pynchon is swimming along, and happens to meet an older kid swimming the other way, who nods at him and says, “Morning, Pynch. How’s the shit?” And Pynchon swims on for a bit, and then eventually stares at his navel and goes, “What the hell is shit?”

>I'm an atheist.

what a stupid opinion

Probably some sjw humanities dribble.

>boy bodied people

9.9999999999999999999999999... /10

I deduct an infinitesimal amount for your hubris.

Crest Une Post

I literally can't express how much better my life has been since I attended Oxford. I went to a state school and gradually became the stereotypical moody, withdrawn sensitive type who both despises the quality of his immediate culture and feels a weird pride for having been raised in a sort of anti-intellectual and brutal environment. I was all set to take my Russell Group humanities BA and spend my life working as an anonymous, insecure wageslave forever thankful of being offered a job and forever too insecure to pursue my creative ambitions. The chip on my shoulder had become something of a wedge, and I felt too out of place regardless of my environment, too resentful and bitter to even attempt to make it in the artistic world. Then I finally applied for Oxford and got in to study an English MA, with reassurance that should I work hard enough a career in academia or within one of Oxford's affiliated companies would be almost guaranteed. I turned up as apprehensive as usual, and the first few days were spent regretting my decision and desperately feigning a cultured personality. But then I realized that the people there were just interesting and that the snobbery and exclusivity I had anticipated was just a myth borne out of my working class upbringing. I've since graduated, having spend the year dining in grand halls with groups of interesting people, dating several girls (one of whom, a petite Russian whose family traces back to the aristocracy, is now my fiancee). I work four days a week at a publishing company and earn ｣38k a year. I regularly meet up with friends from my college and visit Oxford for nights out and for meetings with my professors. The Martin Eden-esque novel I have been writing for two years has been selected for publication at a major British publishing house and, honestly, I could not have imagined a few years ago how great life could be. I come on Veeky Forums and see how pathetic you all are and just shake my head and chuckle. If I saw you guys on the street I would of course throw you a penny or discuss Bukowski or whatever "realist" writers you enjoy, but ultimately I would be able to tell within ten seconds if you're an Oxbridge grad and would dismiss you as a potential source of good company if you are not. I never thought I'd know what it was like to be objectively better than somebody else, for the value of my existence to be superior to the value of a stranger's, but now I do and I've never been happier. People are awed by power and prestige. All I need to do is mention the university I attended (if only for a year) and they immediately begin to hunch and look at their feet because they know they are in the presence of greatness.

>I turned to face her. Her face was as close to my face as my heart was close to hers. Her lips shone a red hue, like that of the devil. I leaned in closer to smell her sweet scent of flowers and chocolate. Then she spoke

>"you're the only guy for me chad."

>I embraced her womanhood.

9.999...(repeating) is equal to 10

Apropos either of the quotidian, the banal, or of the jejune, mine own perineum, yea, mine own /veriest/ SOLAR ANUS (/pace/ messrs Deleuze and Guattari; to the latter: did you ever play the guitar, I wonder? Did you ever play the atari? You had the opportunities, in life), has been /tickled/. And to what end has this particular masculine machine been actuated, potentially to dreadfully cut off whatever limbs may enter its maw? To demonstrate my fondest wish: to match the prompt thuswise given with the TRUTH. Verily, truth, and at the requisite length, metres of it. To wit: I am the /Maître d/ of this lesser city's best restaurant, known thus and consequently objectively proven by the fat tire-man the Michelan of the messrs (voila), which is now the done thing, thirty or so years ago at least at my own convenience, and we suffer none for it. On my day off, in order to cope, I had occasion to behold a Rothko; a migrane, then grace after wine. Done. In all seriousness, they are a marvel. Then again today, the next day augers well. Alternately, disagreeable ruffians and gadabouts either had or have at various periods of my life, in between my fleeting loves which were of themselves another story, informed me either that they should resume daily three meals apace, lest I rejoin their blue band; else I was caught agape, as the current American president's own supporters are themselves sometimes taken aback at the extent of their own warrantable /schadenfreude/, when upon the sequel, a further youth offered himself to the scene, at which point I was as they say not having it. Clearly wet behind the ears (I saw them), he demanded to be seated with his ungainly male companion, and the lovely lady. Oh my god, the lovely lady. With him. I wept for the future. Alas and alack, I was scuttled, very much as the whale which, being beached, swells, or else presents to the world a highly visible and extraterrestrial-visage, as in the case of drift, or of flotsam, or jetsam, or of salt, or of the wreck of Edmund south of Sault-Ste Marie, or especially of the felicitous strangeness of a beached American and a surgical scalpel posed pregnantly together in immediate proximity in the general vicinity of a gentleman wearing a neon-green protective suit against biohazards! Would that he, Sadean, should penetrate that mystery simultaneously Lovecraftian and American (because Uruguay among others has been defeated on this point, or so it would seem at least). I remembered thus my brother: Jean, I do weep for you, for I love you as a brother, for as you well know, we twain twins, though attracted to (somehow) opposites, you, my beloved gay Jean, you are merely my brother, I swear it on my life, and you Jean are in no way a reflection upon myself. I must have woman, and I am convinced of it, having easily had her many times. You, Jean, we both came to America together, and promptly parted ways. I wish that I could have given you AID, mon frère.

So you say.

I was the shadow of the waxwing slain by the false azure of the windowpane

This reads like it was written by the first suggestion of autocorrect every word for s paragraph

Hail trips. Amazing.

underrated. here's a (you)

Yo das dat nibba buns buggy

demn dat nibba round n shit

Yo buns lay off da carrots ya heah

takes the cake

The opening of BNW where it starts rapidly swapping between the different speakers was pretentious.

Ze tinktink podravka de tinglybell megicdooster karbonploos whomst’d’ve chimedandrhymed in die brithing stomacbelli insight of sack cozing theh Arthurusthermowst alveolodirtandurtian pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis said hippocrates end forum hippocrates in miksd ethylenepluseichtwoO wayed leftendrighteelinazigzagzugzagazagand
BUMP!
Poof! Poof! said the loonloong and the tinkerbell of tacobell disentangled xer tongocongobakaustralutistigargantuaganticportmanteauoffuckingthotsandfeefeesfrumtheglubbdubbdribbtodiebrobdigananagFURIAmyfaceaaaahptmandthenirealizedtrapsarefuckinggay
frumm el culodela coseena the feminafamina of ma vie showd end talkd of spinozifocals in teabaggy tiny tuna werds
„And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.”
and then i fuking cried :(

>inb4 stemfag

>Her face was as close to my face as my heart was close to hers.
What a fucking nightmare of a sentence

...stunning...

What it is CIA doing at the kinoplex? Where is Robert?

This challenge betrays your utter naïvité.

I'm 19 years old.

I am handsome, smart, athletic and virile.

I have a novel that is in it's final editing stage, and a creative writing professor at my college has read the first draft and thinks it's saleable.

I have a girlfriend who is confident, articulate, playful and spontaneous.

I have a small group of interesting friends from different social and academic backgrounds, and I also have many other acquaintances who see me as a reliable source of humour and good company.

Both my parents are alive and in good health.

I have no regrets.

I have already experienced three existential crises, the latter of which was described as having the depth and profundity of a man twice my age.

I am a passionate lover, a sharp thinker, and a trader of witty repartee.

I am not self-pitying, meek or needlessly humble.

I will live a good life at your expense.

I am a Citizen of the World. I went to film camp. I've read Sartre. I've read Thomas Pynchon. I've read Ayn Rand. I've been to Italy. I've been to France. I speak French. I've been to Spain. I've been to South America. I've been to Kenya. I've been to China. I backpacked across Europe. I prefer tea to coffee. I've been to Greece. I love Greek food. I'm a foodie. I'm always on the look out for a great little place to get breakfast. Sometimes I go to Barnes & Noble and lose track of the time. The black people that I've met said that I have a lot of flavor. I love my MacBook. But I also love my MacBook Pro, because it has the word "pro" on it, short for prolapse. I drive an ancient Volvo that barely starts. The Matrix and Inception were the first movies in the last 10 years that made me really think. And yeah I paint, no big deal. I think conventional painting rules are stodgy, archaic. To bend the spoon you have to realize there is no spoon. Think outside the box. Coexist. Coexist and one more thing. If you don't know the difference "Your" and "You're"... "Your" and "You're". You're a fucking idiot. Get the fuck off my Facebook wall.

I remember these

>no crab legs photoshopped into the background

I rape your mother.

Dementia is the reward we get towards the end of life, so don't fight it. Enjoy the child-like bliss it blankets you in.

the universe conspires in your favor

how many number 9s are those?

>have unironically always thought this

I keked. havewrittenpostslikethisondrugsbefore/10

Not him but I work in electronics.
>I need a 24vdc source.
There is no such thing.
>Sure there is. Just get me a 24vdc source.
Without specifying the tolerancing that is acceptable your request is non sequitur. I need to know how far off of 24vdc is acceptable for your application before I can provide a power supply for you.

You are tragically mistaken, sir

The greatest minds are most certainly never understood and my deepest thoughts are surely incomprehensible for the human lot.

What a legend

As if I need to prove anything to you.

I peruse Veeky Forums

I AM Veeky Forums

Acomputeris a device that can beinstructedto carry out arbitrary sequences ofarithmeticorlogicaloperations automatically.

bazinga

Calling something pretentious is like the concept of "cringe", if you call something that: You are become pretentiousness.

This is an appropriate post.

It was painful to write it. I know mediocre writers think they're being deep with this type of shit.

As a black man I can't simply "listen and believe" the women of the #metoo movement. My history is rife with examples of white women who lie, and men who suffer for it.

”When you desire something, the whole universe helps you to achieve it”
- Paulo Coelho, unironic

....>!!.,

This thread is a reflection of the nature of Veeky Forums. Every poster has the notion of an pseudo intellectual. 'Pseud' as it's called on the board. Notice how most of them use excessive verbiage , while the content is more or less the same. It being the denial of being a pseudo themselves, thus making an attempt at dissing the original post. Hemingway and myself would disagree with these posters however. About the sameness of pseuds he said - "every pseud is different in his own way. But normies are all the same" . With this I rest my case.

Is this an example of pretentiousness or unironically written...?

I cannot.

For real, though, pretentiousness is one of those abstract concepts I don't fully grasp so I wouldn't know how to begin.

"If you still question whether man is a beast, consider would you rather live in anger or die in love."

Fucking winner right here.

Stand aside

My life is a work of art.

Your work of art is your life.

Ow, my sanity.

My lifestyle determines my deathstyle.

>Machinic Synthesis. Deluzoguattarian schizoanalysis comes from the future. It is already engaging with nonlinear nano-engineering runaway in 1972; differentiating molecular or neotropic machineries from molar or entropic aggregates of nonassembled particles; funcional connectivity from antiproductive static.

>Brothers K, GR, IJ in that order
This guy's a ruseman.

7/10, plausible until you mentioned Hemingway

Anything written by this guy is a winner.

Is this a real quote?
kekin @ pic