YSaC, Vol. 1722: Quine of the Realm
2014 June 27
Here’s a nice tale of redemption, courtesy of Kenneth. This ad was posted to Craigslist recently:
Quin matters
Good condition quin mattress and brand new box spring for free to first person respon.emai me your phon number I’ll text you my address to PU today please .
Normally, we’d be perfectly happy to mock this person, safe in the knowledge that nothing will ever shake their rock solid certainty that this is somehow an accurate or informative way to use the internet, or for that matter the English language.
But in this case, we’d be wrong. Just a few hours later this person picked themselves up, dusted themselves off and tried again:
Quine mattress
Very good Quine matress with below on top and box spring ..free smoking ,pet .
See? MUCH better!
The Morgendorffers became worried when Quinn started insisting that below was on top. Then there was the incident with the smoking pet; free or not, that animal would not be allowed in the house until it quit.
Nothing really mattress
Anyone can see.
Nothing really mattress to me.
Any way the pet smokes.
Hooked on phonics epic fail.
“Alequeapy, ye old quine is dead.”
Long live the quine size bed.
Come all without, Come all within,
You’ve not seen nothing like the Mattress Quine.
When Quine the Eskimo sells his mattress, everybody’s going to want a dose.
I couldn’t agree more…..just like yellow vs. brown mustard…”quin matters.”
Since we all know matrresses come from the swaps of Squornshellous Zeta,
Sparky meant you’ll need quinine after you sleep on this one…
Glad for the clarification – I was uncertain if the initial post meant Queen or Twin.
And they used the same picture for clarity.
“Would YOU like to be Quin for a day?” (Geezer alert)
My favorite part of it, though, is the free smoking, pet.
Does that mean I can smoke for free if I pick up this quine mattress or is there actually a smoking pet I can have for free?
I’m guessing they mean they’re the proud owners of Joe Camel.
I’m imagining a mangy mutt, recently extinguished, still wafting the odor of burnt dog all over the neighborhood as it plays merrily in the yard, while the shell-shocked owners debate what to do about their situation. That, combined with the furniture, prompts the question…. What happened here? Did the yellow cake in the oven go nucular? Did a recursively self-describing* furniture monster collapse into oblivion? Or has something far stranger happened here, and we’re due for a post soon about a free ficus covered in strawberry jam?
* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quine_%28computing%29