Fine Print: Pick-up Lines for Fonts

Fonts

Kern closer.

Ooh, yeah, stroke that vertical.

If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be justified.

I like the way your extenders slope.

Your e’s have the most exquisite eyes.

If I may be so bold…

Nice tittles.

My paragraph or yours?

You’ve got one mean line.

I could stare at the curves of your breves all day long.

Let’s get diacritical.

Is that your o-face?

How’s your punctuation hanging?

I’m in the mood to interrobang.

I would adore you with serifs or sans.

Your CamelCase is showing.

I want to touch your small caps.

How low is your baseline?

I’m a dingbat for your love.

Care to get your swash on?

Your beauty punchcuts me.

Wanna try reverse-contrast?

© 2015 Tony Vicory.

All the World’s a Stage

Shakespeare the Pro Wrestler

Act V, Scene V. An arena.

     Enter Face, a professional wrestler. His opponent, Heel, waits within the ring.

Face
Villain, thou wears the gold of champions,
Which once did rest upon my worthy waist!
I name thee thief, for valor won it not,
But base deceit this hallowed ring disgraced!

Heel
A thief, am I? Then bitter is thy name,
Or fool, to think thy acrid tongue can wound!
This victor’s belt is mine, with glory earned;
Thy claim and challenge both are rightly doomed!

Face
The doom is thine, our contest shall agree,
And hardest lesson thou will shortly learn:
By tricks, thou wrested my beloved prize,
But skill will guarantee its fair return!

Heel
Have at me then with all thy vaunted strength
And break thyself upon the gates of hell!
This devil aches to make his powers known!
Official, come and ring the starting bell!

     Enter the Official, a referee. He signals for the match to begin.
     Face and Heel do battle.

Face
I gift thee now a short-arm elbow smash!

Heel
And I repay a chest marked red with chops!

Face
Reversed, have I; take this, a spinning knee!

Heel
‘Tis countered quick by three atomic drops!

Face
Submit then, knave, to crossface chicken wing!

Heel
Fie! Break it! Stand! Feel powerbombs of pain!

Face
Into the ropes, I swing thee; meet my boot!

Heel
A chair of steel, I grasp, to rock thy brain!

     Enter the Chorus, ringside commentators.

Chorus
And so they rage, opponents evermore,
To entertain the host of watchers wide;
Though some may dub their war a mummer’s farce,
Bard Shakespeare staged more fictious fare beside.

In other words, professional wrestling is legit, y’all.

© 2014 Tony Vicory.