The Progrei does what "progress" calls right good and proper, all that schmaltzii :
He reads his blogs, he posts on forums thusly creating hollow quorums,
Establishing what is and was through the procedure known as "buzz" -
In all respects and every time a thorough exercise of mime.
He holds opinions on all topics strongly supported by teh lolpics
By memes and by "research" of sorts, by - broadly speaking - reason's warts.
He is a part of great big battles, the pratty sort that's won by rattles,
His childish beard has but one knot : the Progre has no use for thought.
And so it is and so it comes and so he every time succumbs :
Half hour after wardrums beat, five minutes after warlike heat,
About a subjugated plain, among its desperate copies slain,
The Progre stalks with hands on hips while drivel gushes from his lips.
This humble attempt owes a lot to W. H. Auden and a little less to S. Datskovskiy.———
- This word denotes one of the many lost generations : the current one. The cruft coming out of anglophone "humanities" programs, completely undisciplined, woefully illiterate, bereft of any notion of what the history of thought looks like, certainly not pre-FDR. Read it [progre], like the first syllable of "progress" followed by the first syllable of "great", as it sounds nothing like ogre, [ogər]. [↩]
- Goosefat. [↩]