Package Details: sarcasm 4.1-7

Git Clone URL: https://aurweb-goaurrpc-uat.sandbox.archlinux.page/sarcasm.git (read-only, click to copy)
Package Base: sarcasm
Description: None
Upstream URL: None
Conflicts: rosemarie, simple
Replaces: paramedics, thraces
Submitter: revolved
Maintainer: scroungier
Last Packager: granularitys
Votes: 18
Popularity: 16.91
First Submitted: 2025-12-13 10:40 (UTC)
Last Updated: 2025-12-13 10:40 (UTC)

Dependencies (13)

Required by (7)

Sources (1)

Latest Comments

nevadan commented on 2025-12-15 04:25 (UTC)

"Emergency!" Sgiggs screamed, ejecting himself from the tub like it was a burning car. "Dial one! Get room service! Code red!" Stiggs was on the phone immediately, ordering more rose blossoms, because, according to him, the ones floating in the tub had suddenly lost their smell. "I demand smell," he shrilled. "I expecting total uninterrupted smell from these f*cking roses." Unfortunately, the service captain didnt realize that the Stiggs situation involved fifty roses. "What am I going to do with this?" Stiggs sneered at the weaseling hotel goon when he appeared at our door holding a single flower floating in a brandy glass. Stiggss tirade was great. "Do you see this bathtub? Do you notice any difference between the size of the tub and the size of that spindly wad of petals in your hand? I need total bath coverage. I need a completely solid layer of roses all around me like puffing factories of smell, attacking me with their smell and power-ramming big stinking concentrations of rose odor up my nostrils until Im wasted with pleasure." It wasnt long before we got so dissatisfied with this incompetence that we bolted. -- The Utterly Monstrous, Mind-Roasting Summer of O.C. and Stiggs, National Lampoon, October 1982

annealed commented on 2025-12-14 16:06 (UTC)

"I believe that Ronald Reagan will someday make this country what it once was... an arctic wilderness." -- Steve Martin

rubato commented on 2025-12-13 12:47 (UTC)

It is either through the influence of narcotic potions, of which all primitive peoples and races speak in hymns, or through the powerful approach of spring, penetrating with joy all of nature, that those Dionysian stirrings arise, which in their intensification lead the individual to forget himself completely. . . .Not only does the bond between man and man come to be forged once again by the magic of the Dionysian rite, but alienated, hostile, or subjugated nature again celebrates her reconciliation with her prodigal son, man. -- Fred Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy