Pinecone Lives

Daily reminder that Thomas Ruggles Pinecone, Jr. posted a bunch of theories on Shakespeare, CoL49, and James Joyce right here on our edgelord image board before disappearing into the ether.

Other urls found in this thread:

warosu.org/lit/thread/S667543#p667573
twitter.com/NSFWRedditVideo

That was me impersonating him.

Is this your first time on Veeky Forums?

Tommy throwin' us off the tracks again

Hello, Mr. Pinecone. How'd that PTA adaptation royalty check turn out?

>theories on Shakespeare
What were those? I missed that particular one.

And for CoL49, can you really call it a "theory"?

It was Steve Erickson...

>Steve Erickson
No it was bill murray

does anyone have a screencap of the post?

warosu.org/lit/thread/S667543#p667573

Oh, but he's back
He's the man behind the mask
The man behind the mask

I have never read a book by Thomas Pynchon because I am still a pleb, how do people assume this is him?

How would a 79 year old man know what the hell a Veeky Forums is?

he knows kojima

that thread fucks with me hard.

if nothing else, it makes me jealous. i wish i could be sharp enough to know this shit, or even something so pleasant as knowing the author himself.. god damned mediocrity, thy name is user.

lol that was wicked gay

TP is a legend. The way he thinks about things is so unique. Absolutely stunning prose, too.
I still can't get over how heinously GR is structured.

i'm pretty wicked gay, i guess. all the more reason to damn myself. too bad there aren't any more worthwhile posters on this board.

I actually talked about something specific I enjoyed from GR. You just whined like a bitch.
So I'd agree, not many worthwhile posters on Veeky Forums.

>our

Maybe one day I will be this knowledgeable on a subject matter, damn, sometimes people just remind me the intelligence gap between an average person like me and someone who is actually smart is always way wider than I think it is.

are you an author or the author? otherwise i'm not sure how that makes any difference. You can enjoy GR all you like, nothing wrong with that. I just mean actual mental stars, someone who wows you because they're so bizarre. Onna them parrots who realized that to be the best parrot, they must string words together from multiple parrotings, and become the most unique parrot. You know the parrots i'm talking about, the entities that come out, and what appears to be squawking at first, turns out to be morse code that relates a short equation that explains the innermost thoughts of Kevin Clash when he has his hand stuffed up in there. C'mon, you know that telling me that GR's structure is heinous doesn't do a god damn thing for me.

yeah, right? we really are plebs. well, you definitely are, anyway.

I thought I missed something when he said he mentioned something specific about GR, like 'did he accidentally not reply you' or something, but now I see his sweeping statement about GR was what he considered insightful.

It's the beginning--err, probably the middle--of the end for Veeky Forums, and I'm trying my damnedest to bring it back. What we need is one of those threads where we all read a section of a book per day together and discuss.

i can't even read anymore. I'm not a sponge like i was. i used up all my sponginess soaking up god damned pokemon statistics. i bet i could squeeze out worthwhile content if my thyroid weren't overproducing turning me into a foggy mashed potato. now i just pretend to read J R, and wait for it to become relevant every once in a while. cursory fucking research leads me to a cool book i never read every once in a while, which i talk to with my friends who think merely knowing the title of a book is impressive. I'm stagnating. Lock me up in a prison all alone with a nice library and no one to rape me and i might come out a learned jibbering moron capable of reaming out a few thousand pages of nonsense that'll be praised for half an hour before the next american election soundbite is dropped into their feces stinking mouths. here i am, some worthless shithole bitching about my middling interest in literature, when i should go whole hog and fuck a robot and buy a VR machine and just forget about all this bullshit.

god dammit, i said every once in a while more than once.

then i just used once twice in that fucking sentence. god dammit

I am a pleb but I have a faint hope that I have it in me to make myself into a true patrician.

i'm a monstrous pleb just waiting for my next turn at the lottery of life, metempsychosis or whatever that faggot said about bullshit and mispronunciation. fuck all this nonsense though, let's just jump off a bridge together, get drunk on the way, write a journal about how the wind feels as it flies across our junk through our pants, and we'll go right down into the big icy plunge, and the ink will run and lose its meaning just like this fucking text will.

ah well screams for relevance awash in the blue overtones of the blocks that scroll across my screen, what the fuck was i to expect. plebs, the lot of us. and the faggot poets pretending they aren't faggots.

cmon harambe everyone cmon let's all get up and toss our desks to the side and shriek out our pride for the blacks ruining the god damn world! let's enjoy the superfluosity of our existences while we whittle away the hours doing menial tasks pretending that they're significant to anyone on a broad scale while half of us wish for a war so we can clean up the faggots on the toaster!

Pynchons my fav writer for sure because my fav thing in books is goofs, gags, jokes and rambunctious behavior, and his books are full to the brim of it. Every novel is like one of those novelty snake cans, you open the book & POP you get a face fulla snakes and you fall back cackling. The mad mind, the crack genius, to do it! and then you think hmmm whats he gonna do next, this trickster, and you pick the book back up and BZZZZZZZZZZ you get a shock and Hahahahahah you've been pranked again by the old pynchmeister, that card. "Did that Pynch?" he says, laughing yukyukyukyuk. Watch him as he shoves a pair of plastic buck teeth right up into his mouth and displays em for you- left, right, center- "you like dese? Do i look handsome???" Pulls out a mirror. "Ah!" Hand to naughty mouth. And you're on your ass again laughing as he snaps his suspenders, exits stage right, and appears again hauling a huge golden gong.

thanks, fucking failed parrot faggot.

I don't feel the same way. Let us embrace the universe at every glance, let us live our moments with focus in each and every now. Not worrying about the infinite concepts, and quandaries that come with living in the cosmos, but of becoming aware of every atom our consciousness comes into friction with, and loving every moment as much as humanly possible.

Easy there, mashed potato man. The least you could do for self-improvement is read my literature. :^)

That's not William Gaddis, who writes under the nom de plume Thomas Pynchon.

self improvement? what a laugh. either you're born with a sponge large enough to soak up all the bullshit alongside the worthwhile stuff and a spider inside your head apt enough to tie it all together, you're gonna be fucking worthless until someone invents a way to transform retard potato monsters into fine upstanding worldly entities capable of spidering and sponging themselves through a few thousand page novel regarding Ariosto's perineum. until then you're fucked, i'm fucked, he's fucked. and especially you. yeah, you. you fucking failure parrot. (not you, this fucking mook over here)

it's like you have the angst of a 1980s computer programmer without the technical ability.

i really wish i had angst worth talking about but no, it's all just bullshit, this thread will soon vanish and you won't remember it all but it'll be fucking cathartic for me to bitch and moan for a few minutes, hopefully someone will recognize me for the genius i really wish i were and shit all over me by stealing everything i know after a complicated scheme of securing my IP and sending me a tank top in the mail declining any new offers for watermelon, seedless or otherwise, and pressing tied bark shafts into the ground i build a little hut, like that soon to be excommunicated priest back in 13 double aught something or other. fucking morgan stanley ass mother fucker, don't you sass me you shitballed corpseballing anus scrounging filthmongering uvula. i don't have time to have you coming around insulting my already dwindling pride, i say dwindling as though it hasn't dug itself into a pit and begged me for suicide a thousand times before but that's a story for another time you flamingo shaped orange grove stealing bastard

fucking autumnal hillbilly ranchaholic tubmeat facial transplant parrot failure

He knows a lot of obscure shit, the fact that he mentions one of the most affluent and well-known figures in video games in a segment related to video games is not grounds to make the claim that he has ever been on Veeky Forums.

...have you ever read Pynchon before?

that kid's too god damn young to be playing with such things. the fucking nerve of the capitalist swine, restricting the child from accessing the type of succulent fruit he needs to grow, like books, and fucking papercuts, and shutting the fuck up and sitting in a room until he learns fucking latin.fucking knives can't be trusted, those shitholes full of rapists and all them knives out there, threatening the public at large, fucking jumping jack fuckin flash on a dipstick chapstick orange grove fucking monster truck eating shitball salad; fucking hopefully god damn shit motherfuckin mice got caught by the spider and they turned into a big fucking squeaking cotton ball while the spider took its sweet ass time shooting it up with toxins that make your insides mush god fucking spiders over here, chilling out murdering the shit out of people who can't even see the forest from the trees fucking fishing lines and shit, webbing all over the fucking pond, some spiders do, you've seen it it's like a fucking web over a pond.

if the sponge had gotten wringed and the spider had gotten fucking busy working on tying it all together he would have figured it all out but no no no no fucking sponge, no one gave him a damn sponge, they could have even wheedled it in into the god damn buttermilk bathing part, but no, no one thought to give the pig a sponge so he could wring it all out kept him from slaughter, that faggot spider whipping around telling everyone about fucking pigs

the fuck that have to do with any fucking thing you fucking mealymouthed measled monkshitter?

none of you fuckers know a god damn thing, where's the fucking sponge and the spider when you fucking need it.

not a git got good got gam thing.

t. Pynchon

how did thomas pynchon write V and Crying Lot while not even 25 years old?

Wait, forreal, I don't get it, how do we even know TP wrote that shit?

tfw when u realize Pynchon himself wrote/copied every single one of these on every Pynchon thread

i'm sorry for all the ranting i did in this thread, please forgive me everyone.

This is Pynchon's uncle. No I didn't. I mean he.

lol it was p gay. btw I was wicked stoned last night and fucking with you, guess I got you on a bit of a tear lol.
For the record I actually think GR is amazingly structured. Characters show up somewhat equidistant from where they were first showed (as in a character on page 150 would show up again around 610) giving the book a parabolic structure. Very cool stuff.
It's a great Cold War novel and expresses the fear of ICBMs so well through the more often than not mystical treatment of the V-2

here's a pic you might not have seen before

ruggles with his harem

-j

Bill Murray doesn't have a landline. Or is that John Cooper Clarke? I think you have to contact both of their mothers to book them. As in if you want to book Murray you need Mrs Cooper Clarke's okay too.

stupid shit about authorship theories i.e. conspiracy theories
it was clearly not pynchon

>i hate when artists make money!

cringing

meant for

He never implied that at all.

He inferred it and the author is dead.

You're both faggots

yer a faggot. i'm just an umble man trying to make a living as a used coat salesman. go fuck yerself.

"got you on a bit of a tear"
nah nig. i was talking with someone else at the time about spiders and sponges, you just got caught in the crossfire. don't think you could get a rise outta me, buddy o pal, buddy o pal o friend o mine