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20 Juli 2006 @ 12:14

(in order of appearance)

  1. Marie Alexandra Victoria, Princess of Edinburgh and later Queen of Romania
    (August, 1925)
  2. the Seventh Regiment
    (December, 1927)
  3. the National Guard
    (December, 1927)
  4. Alexandre Dumas, père
    (September, 1928)
  5. Alexandre Dumas, fils
    (September, 1928)
  6. Richard Brinsley Sheridan
    (March, 1931)

This list is almost certainly incomplete. Additions are welcome, provided they are accompanied with suitable justification for their inclusion.

Vizcachachillyrodent on 20. Juli, 2006 16:55 (UTC)
That's tough.
Q. Pheevrq_pheevr on 20. Juli, 2006 17:41 (UTC)

I've added dates; does that help?

Vizcacha: ? Question markchillyrodent on 20. Juli, 2006 22:57 (UTC)
I've looked again, but I'm beginning to fear that the answer is something ridiculously erudite, while I'm thinking ... something not erudite.
Curtana: Grincurtana on 20. Juli, 2006 18:37 (UTC)
Aha! I would also add Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and Thomas Carlyle to the list, as well as Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. I believe they should all go between 3 and 4. Would you like the justification here, or would that spoil the game for others? :)
Q. Pheevrq_pheevr on 20. Juli, 2006 19:19 (UTC)

Hmm.... I think you are on the right track, and have identified the person who ties the list together, but as far as I know, your suggestions have a slightly different relationship to that person from the one I had in mind.

Curtana: Hmmcurtana on 20. Juli, 2006 20:12 (UTC)
Hm, all right. I will give it further thought, then.
(Anonym) on 22. Juli, 2006 14:17 (UTC)
Q-Pheevr: anagram of "PHVREEQ" (in the least pejorative, and rather more ostensibly vogue account of which office, le plus certes).
Q. Pheevr: umop apisdnq_pheevr on 22. Juli, 2006 17:05 (UTC)
Re: pukesquip


(Anonym) on 28. Juli, 2006 07:09 (UTC)
Though it scumble, bemuck, or at least occlude more pertinent discussion when certain entrants, especially the more notably green, plash helplessy about in frolicksome pseudo-sycophancy and par-clever pasquinade, well so it goes when the initiate cannot adequately locate his conduct, and simply lets loose. Incidentally, the acquaintance comes with pleasure anticipated in the utmost; which would at last usher out an epoch of admirational but hitherto anonymous lurking. Oh, and...er...please accept profusest repentences anent the alliterative emiction (awkward grin) *swab, swab*
On with the show!!
(Anonym) on 28. Juli, 2006 07:59 (UTC)
...and confound the potential for indecency that anonymous commenting (and implicitly, refusal to tender a webjournal) wreaks on subject/speech headings...

Hubbub notwithstanding, this recent-most ravel, in keeping with the succession, really does offer a galore of the complex; which the droves of more accredited and canny regulars here have the redoubtable knack for flicking little more than the cerebral equivalent of a wrist to untangle, it appears!
Q. Pheevrq_pheevr on 28. Juli, 2006 20:43 (UTC)
Re: piquepus:

I'm flattered and intrigued by your kind and rather cryptic remarks. Whoever you may be, I'm glad you've decided to, as they say, delurk.

(Anonym) on 31. Juli, 2006 07:00 (UTC)
Add-in (finitum)
Somebody (surely far more notable than this attribution would adequately credit) once spent a few congenial moments expounding on a humorous adaptation of the term "conundrum" used among students to reverence any especially incomprehensible professor/s or tenured faculty who they would have occasion to lambaste that way. Perhaps touching on the subject now strays still farther off the original trajectory here, but draws together certain appropriate thematic elements, given the thread. Thanks for the welcome!!!!
Vizcachachillyrodent on 3. August, 2006 14:49 (UTC)
And, the common thread is ... (drum roll):
Q. Pheevrq_pheevr on 4. August, 2006 14:27 (UTC)

Dorothy Parker sardonically suggested that she might be them:

  1. Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
    A medley of extemporanea;
    And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
    And I am Marie of Roumania.

    (“Comment,” published in the August 16, 1925, issue of New York World)

  2. &  3.  [Of a contrast drawn by Upton Sinclair between a descriptive passage in a novel and the living conditions of working-class families in Philadelphia:]
    If this, ladies and gentlemen, proves anything at all, I am the Seventh Regiment. And if it is literary criticism, I am the National Guard.

    (from “The Socialist Looks at Literature,” review of Sinclair's Money Writes!, published in the Dec. 10, 1927, issue of The New Yorker)

  3. &  5.
    Well do I know, from reading the newspapers, that those who attempt disagreement with the Dictator trifle with their health; so I shall but remark, in a quiet way, that if The Cardinal's Mistress is a grande romanzo, I am Alexandre Dumas, père et fils.

    (from “Duces Wild,” review of Benito Mussolini's The Cardinal's Mistress, published in the Sept. 15, 1928, issue of The New Yorker)

  4. If Give Me Yesterday is a fine play, I am Richard Brinsley Sheridan.

    (from “Just Around Pooh Corner,” review of A.A. Milne's Give Me Yesterday, published in the March 14, 1931, issue of The New Yorker)

Vizcachachillyrodent on 4. August, 2006 15:20 (UTC)
Wow, nice!