Say Tab, In German all nouns get a capitol letter. And on top of that the direct object makes the (male and neutral) article change into ‘einen’. So it would be:
[size=50]Oh yeah…
In French a word ending with -e is always feminine, so the article would be ‘la’ (and ‘une’)…bosse…
I concede that the French I learned about arrgh, ooh, 28 years ago may be somewhat lacking. And the German I co-opted from Kennedy’s ‘ich bin ein Berliner’…
Although I would like to learn I should focus on more important matters…like asking Arzou to teach me Turkish for instance. She would be a much more desirable teacher.
Hmmm…Arzu, huh? Thanks, I might have messed up with that one.
I have to hand it to you though, the Turkish girls sure can be pretty…and temperamental I noticed.
i think it’s a draw - basically, Tab deftly annihilates the notion of individuality and difference as being indicative of authenticity, but then Fuse disarms him with the simple point that one needn’t be different to be authentic.
Debaitor, insofar as i’ve understood him, has boiled it down to the question of “if a painting can be authentic, then why can’t an individual?” - i don’t find this persuasive, as the standards of authenticity for a painting are (relatively) “objective” (Van Gough either painted it or not) whereas the standards of authenticity for an individual are as yet (despite numerous attempts throughout the forgoing exchange) unsatisfactorily defined and therefore remain, in the context of this debate, (relatively) “subjective”.
so i don’t think either side managed to eke out a clear win here - it was, as Objet points out, simultaneously frustrating and stimulating.
Yeah, to be honest, I don’t get cricket at all. I went to a few matches, mainly when I lived in Nottingham, near Trent Bridge, and the only way to sit through an entire match was to literally get so drunk you couldn’t physically move from your seat.
To play though, is terrifying. At school basically it’s target practice. “Hey Martin, in this game you’re allowed to throw that heavy ball as hard as you fucking like at that trembling puke just over there. What…? Stumps…? Fuck the stumps, break his fucking arm.”