“How do you keep your tongue pink? I WILL fucking rev YOU 2, 3 ... you're a Harley.”
Aheago: Why are cross eyes dotted? What else about the face makes it expensive to clean, and generates micro-economies over GDP of small countries with its own ladies in pink Cadillacs driving around like Fonzi on a Ponzi scheme, I mean, franchisees?
The year of driving cars dangerously, and crashing.
People throw cheese and facial expression is bending over.
Instagram influencers avoid influenza like
the plague by snorting meth through designer masks, wiping their side
eye throwing shade on Cleopatra, Cleopatra would have checked herself.
Eyeliners like oceanliners both mark untraceable routes through seas
no one can trace, while flopping tongues are rampant, and some
look like they could use a good otolarygologist and a possible
glossectomy, like an idiopathetic derangement of the tastebuds, this medical mystery is the one such as is
Miley Cyrus self-medicating, demanding Haldols and other friends of mine get dolled up and go nowhere, but gang, gang Johnny Dang's Grills are all here: DANGling UPPERS and Lowers, big
sparklin' choppers so chopped and screwed, Paul Wall said, hurry the fuck
up; with moist and meaty, Iggy's Azalea-pink chops spit out tongue twisters like her once before, because I know you remember Peter Pepper -- unlike him her freestyle was free born in Australia, accentectomy followed in the States, then best
speech therapist from the Bronx that her Fancy money's label could buy, necessary or elective, in went Julia Child and out came Lorna Doolittle, to
maintain tastefully budding supertaster-makers they thought DJ Kaled said they were, or, at least, not above letting
off steam and getting off like a dream with a weird social avoidance networking mandate and its own
feedback looping dog abhorring a vacuum like the last cocaine 'party' I enjoyed: 100
assholes can't shut up while I finally have a lot of cool shit to say ... online.
Effluvium, spit and
tears crying lots 99 times, a Bitch ain't one, but out they come, big
crocodile tears from behind blue crossed-eyes crying rain -- real
'cry-bait' for people like me who love a good emoter or crier, like Diane Weiss
at a funeral or anywhere, puffing up everything around like a
poison peanut fish or Puff Daddy talking about Ciroc at Cannes and vis versa, there really will be no tears
in Heaven, thanks to Eric Clapton's maid and her defenestration act that was more like a Crossfire Hurricane or Irwin Allen's flight itinerary; but I'm sure Slowhand was living on Tulsa Time with sloth-like alacrity in the manner in which he paid the poor lady, not happy with her airing out choice that day or the severance it really cost, that paying for a mistake made with the subsequent dolor for Dolores kind of feeling the hot tears rolling down their faces trying to forget their feelings of the Sunshine of their love
Much like the cross Dora Marr's burden was hers to bear, her man Picasso who had once slapped crosseyed a waitress into Tuesday and on a roll, back in
that crescent almondy eye on top of a pyramid some Mason stuck there to
look us over when we blow it out, flappin' short stacks of one's like
Martha Stewart's got hot crossed buns -- she of the Van Gogh iris eyes
ain't cryin' clear salty tears over dope as cheap as that prehistoric stuff is its expensive Amberg -- no inclusions
and a little on the peridot side of Pantone yellows and greens -- no
excessively veiney perils, or facets among coronal carats expressing a cool
disinterest in perfection's overrated rule of four, where three's a
charming crowd, but four is a nightmare -- dddd [sic asleep], a three-star Michelin restaurant from
1922 only had once -- and that was when they got it the first time; its difficult for most folks to understand how hard that expression is
to make — “ahegao” — distinctive, distasteful, an eye-for-an-eye (eye be gone) ibogaine trip to the jungle to find yourself that never ends -- tell your friends.
Yet, every girl who're hentai's lackingand who're Instagram modeling days totally over, like Janice Dickinson is over -- whatever
birthed THIS nation was apparently closer to that little flick as the
whore, if you listen to us tell it, who in one overzealous collective of OMG faces who are definitely 'Goin' TO Hell, not from the Hell
that is other people dand the people whose others its about; people
thinking Man will fix what man has put us under, as usual — ahegao an historic hentai reminder to what can never be fixed or explained is what fixes this.
Espresso's euphoric conjunctive inhibition to #cuppingcoffee #coffeetasting like an #oenologist telling us to order like no one is watching, when we drink the BIG bottle, or recommence drinking them -- they having dropped more #jeroboams in front of House than Johnny Depp drops through his liver, lover of wine is he who made Caesar move to a different section the last time their paths crossed, one spit while the other swallowed and vis au verso, they swilled it (Wiley Coyote was a genius who dropped #ACME anvils on the #Roadrunner, and missed on purpose -- so, he looped it).
for @liltunechi
see you at the funeral.
rip
The year of driving cars dangerously, and crashing.
People throw cheese, and facial expression is bending over.
Instagram influencers avoid influenza like the plague by snorting meth through designer masks, wiping their side eye throwing shade on Cleopatra, Cleopatra would have checked herself.
Eyeliner like oceanliners both mark untraceable routes through seas where no one can trace them, while flopping tongues are rampant and some look like they could use a good otolarygologist and possible glossectomy, like an idiopathetic derangement of a medical mystery is Miley Cyrus, self-medicating with Haldol, all dolled up and nowhere to go, but gang gang, Johnny Dang DANGling UPPERS and Lowers with big sparklin' choppers so chopped and screwed Paul Wall said, hurry the fuck up; moist, meaty, Iggy Azalea pussypink tongue twisters like her freestyle, born in Australia, accentectomy in the States, then best speech therapist from the Bronx her Fancy label thought necessary to maintain, tastefully budding supertaster they were, or not above letting off steam and getting off with a weird social avoidance networking feedback loop in a vacuum, like the last cocaine 'party' I enjoyed, 100 assholes can't shut up while you have a lot of cool shit to say online.
Effluvia, spit and tears crying 99 times AND a Bitch ain't one. But, out they come, big crocodile tears from behind blue crossed eyes, crying rain -- real -bait' for people like me, I like a good crier like maybe a Diane Weiss at a funeral or anywhere, puffing up everything around their like a poison fish or Puffy talking about Ciroc, there really will be no tears in Heaven, thanks to Eric Clapton's maid though, there were quite a few accompanying her severance and pay for that little mistake she made and the subsequent and dolor for Dolores kind of relaxing feeling, hot crossed tears rolling down faces as cross as Dora Marr, whose Picasso once slapped her crosseyed straight into Tuesday on a roll, back into that crescent almondy eye on top of a pyramid some Mason stuck there to look us over when we blow it out, flappin' short stacks of one's like Martha Stewart's got hot crossed buns -- she of the Van Gogh iris eyes ain't cryin', clear like good dope and expensive Amber -- no inclusions and a little on the peridot side of Pantone's yellows and greens -- no excessively veiney facets among coronal carats, expressing cool disinterest in perfection's overrated rule of four, where three's a charm and four is a nightmare, a three-star Michelin restaurant from 1922 only had once -- and that was when they got it; a hard expression to make — “ahegao” — distinctive, distasteful, an (eye be gone) ibogaine trip to the jungle to find yourself that never ends -- tell your friends.
Yet, every girl who're hentai's lackingand who're Instagram modeling days totally over, like Janice Dickinson is over -- whatever birthed THIS nation was apparently closer to that little flick as the whore who birthed us, apparently if you listen to us tell it, overzealously at one with our collective O-face from the Hell that is other people, and the people whose others its about; people thinking Man will fix what man has put us under, as usual — ahegao an historic hentai reminder to what can never be fixed or explained is what fixes this.
“I’ve lost musculoskeletal control of my face, daddy,”rare viral funny hots
Santos trope Japanese comics weaseled into mainstream, non-erotic anime, cosplay selfie culture adopted symbol extreme pleasure anything, not sex.
Because of its many potential applications, Santos says fast-becoming meme legend you can slap ahegao on a photo of the oatmeal you made to alert your 34 Instagram followers that it hit the spot, or you could be like this person, and use it to troll stupid moths who love lamps.
In that sense, ahegao is kind of emoji — meaningful subs for words aren’t needed.
11 orgasm responses to disproportionate stimulus (cross-eyed, slack-tongue, “found” clit).
“Its realistic ahegao face satire’s sexual expression,”
Japanese expressionistic.
Ahegao trolls overreact to overreactions, muffled giggle, multiverse dank memes.
equation? Sex orgasm face putty internet fantasy.
On Reddish realaheago sub — 139 “ahegao lovers” — most hunger-ish women NSFW ahegao gender-diverse porno (here you go), one, — cute tongue out frame cleavage!
Either post licit horny comments —
“How do you keep fucking ... rev -- YOU. YOU ARE ... Harley.”
From “extreme female pleasure” is common attraction.
But most excited?
Ahegao Queen usually nude
Redditor coffeecreamer06 is a former Ahegao Queen who regularly posts NSFW content to Reddit.
She got into ahegao last year after a fan of her nudes suggested she try it, and she immediately loved the amount of attention and validation it got her. “I like the idea of feeling so much pleasure you have to make a face,” she writes to me over Reddit DM.
MidiSymphony, a female redditor who loves to look at female ahegao faces, is into it for the same reason. “It’s a really nice expression of female sexuality,” she tells me.
Female pleasure is still taboo, so I’m always down to support other ladies who put themselves out there and do it because it makes them feel sexy. It’s hot to watch a woman whose feelin’ herself.
This is the act of pulling down one lower eyelid and sticking out the
tongue and saying "Beh-da!" (Japanese) or "Nyaaaah!" (English dub).
A
highly ritualized expression of disdain or disapproval, used
exclusively by children and immature adults. Basically the same as the
Western act of sticking out the tongue, cranked up a few notches,
though definitely not profane gesture.
In Japan this is referred to as akanbe (a corruption of akai me,
"red eye"), and it's called mon oeil ("my eye") in France and Quebec.
This is in fact a Franco-Japanese cultural trope, but you'll see it
everywhere in anime.
I could not find a satisfying or credible enough link as to its origin(s) but from the akanbe wiki it seems to date back as far as the 20th century:
The use of the term was first mentioned by early 20th century author
Katai Tayama, in his 1909 story Inaka Kyōshi (田舎教師 Rural Teacher), as
a gesture used by the male students in the story.
I see characters making
this motion frequently in anime. They pull one (or sometimes both)
eyelid down, and stick out their tongue. What does that mean? Where
does the gesture originate and what's the history behind it?
As for male fans? Coffeecreamer06 thinks they’re in it for a slightly different reason — so they can project their own aspirations of sexual wizardry onto the model.
“I think men like it so much because it’s a physical way of knowing pleasure is being felt,” she says. Steven, a pseudonymous ahegao fan who frequents r/realahegao confirms this, explaining that he gets off on it because it appeals to the fantasy that he could make someone feel good enough to drool one day, too. “It’s easy to picture myself as the person doing that to them,”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, a 2017 study found that men’s primary interest in giving women orgasms isn’t because they care about women’s pleasure; it’s because it makes them feel “manly.” Or more simply put, it may be that some men’s interest in ahegao is less about women feeling good and more about their ability to “perform” as a man.
Even so, female ahegao posters seem to enjoy playing with and benefitting from men’s fantasies — as one Reddit post called “I don’t care where you come, Senpai just make sure you drown me in your cum!” demonstrates, doing so can be kind of fun, especially when it’s not necessary to do much more than make a face.
In fact, that’s one of the biggest draws of ahegao for many people — it allows them to express and explore their sexuality without necessarily being nude or explicit (though plenty of people get X-rated, too). Much like butt or underboob selfies, it invites praise and adoration in a somewhat safer, gentler way than say, uploading a close-up of your labia to Imgur. In turn, it also invites less threatening comments — ahegao fans tend to post things like, “You’re so pretty, I love your makeup,” as opposed to more aggressive soliloquies like,
“I’d tear your pussy up.” Coffeecreamer06 says she loves this part of ahegao — while she has posted X-rated versions of it, she also enjoys how easy it is to get a positive response for a photo that’s just her face. “If you make your face well enough, that’s all you need,” she explains.
The person’s mouth must be wide open and their tongues should stick or dangle out.
Various bodily liquids must emerge from their face, ranging from tears, drool, sweat and even snot.
The eyes must be rolled back so far that the pupils are no longer visible. Disturbingly, these kinds of eyes were initially associated with rape scenes and are commonly called “rape eyes.”
This brings us to the more controversial side of ahegao. While it’s almost unanimously accepted as an innocent, fun expression, some people find it to be sexist and misogynistic — it does glorify women’s loss of control in sexual situations, and “rape eyes” isn’t exactly a forgivable term. However, Santos is hesitant to slap a negative label on it. Whether or not ahegao is just a comical expression of female sexuality or a camouflaged masculinity crisis projected onto the female frame is entirely dependent on the context it takes place in, she says: “In some narratives, women take deliberate strides to achieve the ahegao expression, so it’s not necessarily a loss of control but rather how some women enjoy the overwhelming pleasure of a sexual act.”
In that sense, it can be empowering. “However, for other narratives in pornographic manga,” she continues, “the ahegao is definitely a manifestation of a man’s sexual prowess. We must take into consideration that just like every form of pornography, ahegao is an expression that exists to explore the boundaries of sexual fantasies and these explorations are varied.”
Stephen Reysen, a Texas A&M psychology professor who studies hentai, agrees. In his eyes, ahegao doesn’t appear to be any more or less sexist than any other type of media or porn.
As he argues, even though ahegao glorifies and hyperbolizes an unrealistic depiction of female pleasure, so do beer commercials, Pornhub videos and pretty much every TV show, ever. In his opinion, whether it’s sexist or not has more to do with the viewer and scenario than the actual expression itself.
Plus, there is somemale ahegao as well — while the lion’s share is ladies and while it was traditionally designed to show the frenzied nature of the female orgasm, more modern hentai and cosplayers have tried to close the “ahegao gap” by posting more gender-diverse depictions of absolute pleasure.
10 Kazuma Facts You Didn’t Know! KonoSuba Facts
That doesn’t solve the problem of whether female ahegao is inherently sexist, but after talking to women who make it, it seems to be far more empowering than derogatory.
As MidiSymphony says,
“Any time women can claim pleasure for themselves, it’s a win. Exaggerated meme pleasure is no exception — it still keeps the conversation on women cumming, and that’s something we could use a lot more of.”
Isabelle Kohn is a sex and relationships journalist, educator and consultant who, for some reason, keeps writing about livestock instead. She writes features and long-form pieces for MEL, usually without the help of Clippy.
Sonovox Grandfather Talk Box Dates 'Frampton Comes Alive' 35 years
Is Peter Frampton famous, or is his 'I Wanna Fuck You' squeezed out from the device the famous one when he makes his Talk Box (no fucking “wah wah wah” [sic -- no one ever writes a third wah in wha wha]
and asks thousands of underage girls in the auditorium this question
night after night -- you should go back and do your research. It's
really an easy timeline)
on “Show Me the Way,”
along with Joe Walsh, Bon Jovi, Pete Drake and a host of others.
The
effect was introduced by Kustom [sic -- just totally wrong], and
research digs up even earlier effects used on TV and in movies.
In 1939, before Frampton Was Alive, a steel guitarist named Alvino Rey invented a talking guitar by wiring a pilot carbon mic in reverse, us becoming speaker, placing it in his throat, thus becoming short of breath.
unnaturally lassitudinous drugs reliable to inside one normal day
George Jones Exit-In Nashvillian Kafkaesque Cocaine Psychosis: Wherein He Becomes Deedoodle Duck
1979 George Jones wallowed whiskey deep and collected cocaine shampoo, then his quick "quack" was done playing sides against the middle of the lines.
One washed-up country singer was enough for George Jones to support, but Deedoodle Duck was in the way of his roaring.
Jones's
arguments issuing somehow from his feathered nemesis knew no splitting middles, fidgeted over lines on, inside, and over the lines, his rheumy voice cracking like some duckish puberty, now loamy, now breaking bad, between Deedoodle and his ever expanding bent to exotic polyglot Dr. Doolittle transpecies communications, embedded in a quaky duck uht, emanating from some dark antechamber, deep-hid, unseen, such were its granite walls high ceilings, ranging up, reflecting off of, and squeezed through uncrushable connectors, like analogue amps with that Peavey quack switch selected, add a phaser, and you got, 'Her Name Was ...' oblivion's blackout own sonic bender.
Duck
is the common name for numerous species in the waterfowl family
Anatidae which also includes swans and geese. Ducks are divided among
several subfamilies in the family Anatidae; they do not represent a
monophyletic group but a form taxon, since swans and geese are not
considered ducks.
The duck's debut came before an audience of industry insiders at what was meant to be a comeback show.
As recalled by then-manager Shug Maggot in the Jones bio Ragged But Right,
"
Jones
came
onstage and announced that...a new star was born. George proceeded to
introduce Donald and asked for a round of applause as Donald started
singing a George Jones song. You could see tears in most of the
people's eyes."
Aftermath: According to Maggot, Donald continued the quacky-tonkin' (after all, only geese "honky"-tonk)
until he was carted off the stage in a straitjacket. This was far from
the last meltdown for the Possum, but it goes to show: It may walk
like a duck and talk like a duck, but it might just be George Fuckin'
Jones.
Assignation burner memories exponentially ingrained, expectorant productive of impecuniousregalement,nonchalance -- a hobo jungle shitshow, while she,déshabillé
in mignonette-green and bead-diapered head-dress adding several inches
to her diminutive scope and scale, reminiscent desperadoes vie for her
attention, she is waiting for a trainfull of cowboy martyrs, clanging
pots all around the campfire until theirs is replaced by the chuckwagon
striker and triangle besetting awkward angles producing its unmistakable address,
inside and batting off three equidistant forged iron rods, hearable by a
hectare to a neckbell, scintillant tintinnabulation tinkling over-range,
where some still herded that single-minded lodestar pointing like an arrowhead ,
pointing to where they were steered, drove through, forded over swollen
riverlets, through fence openings, noisy and noisome, half-like a
woman, the lead cow the bottom of the 'V' but for a woman, its split upside down, and the smell of her is sweet and clean, her hide to a heifer is
soft fuzz to touch, but wet like a newborn calf before it drinks her plug.
El Chapo
El Chapomomentously unloosing his cage in name only, unbuoyed Zimbabwe Gloriosa flapping candle shadows flickering off floating lillypads, inextinguishable unobtrusive and playing on his love of laughter as sure as fecundity follows concordance.
Bilious of balefulfrutation,
the dialectic intoxicant both facile and disposable, disambiguated
dispatches of proto-voiced emboldened, unfamiliar art for no audience
by no artist and without charm to follow as youth follows beauty, and
innocence precedes decadence -- unfurrowed, inconspicuous sonorous sonrisas
extinguish little fires tamping by boot, smokeless whisps of self-made fires disappear with a whisper like the passing clouds.
Black fists,
fumid bars, furtive men,
watch wasted days
turn to
dazednights,
infelicitous companions,
unpropitious whores,
and dully unapologetic allies, it could be said, but wasn't,
those might say now what to them it were said then, to whom could not before, might try to say it:
On
a bootleg tape that has been traded for decades, jazz trumpeter
Hubbard can be heard uncorking the following tirade to a jeering
audience: "Fuck you, white motherfuckers! [Voice in crowd: 'Go home!']
Well, OK, I'll go home. If you don't like me, kiss my ass! That's
right, 'cause you jive, you jive, you jive! You white motherfuckers!
You the ones who started this shit! Lemme show you--you the ones--fuck
you! Fuck you, you white motherfuckers! [Hubbard starts to weep.] If
you don't like me, kiss my black ass! You motherfuckers! [The drummer
starts the next song.] Fuck it, I won't do it!"
Aftermath:
Unknown, though this was not the last of Hubbard's meltdowns. In 1977,
he stormed off the stage at Cleveland's Front Row, screaming, "Miles
Davis, Miles Davis, Miles Davis. I ain't Miles Davis, motherfuckers!"
Charlie Rich: 1975, Country Music Awards, Nashville
On
stage to announce his successor as CMA Entertainer of the Year, Rich
opened the envelope, announced that his "good friend John Denver" had
won and then set fire to the envelope and results card. Earlier in the
evening, Rich had been spotted backstage swilling gin-and-tonics and
autographing a woman's bare breast.
Aftermath:
Rich's spin doctors went into overdrive: His gaffe, they said, was
thanks to pain medications he'd taken to overcome a spider bite
suffered while mowing his lawn. (Yeah, that's the ticket.)
Rich
was pretty much finished by this incident, and the CMA continues to
hold a grudge long after his death--despite being both a critical fave
and the biggest artist in country music for a few years in the early
'70s, he is still not a member of the Country Music Hall of Fame.
Jim Morrison: 1969, Dinner Key Auditorium, Miami
Meltdown:
Drunk beyond even his own impressive norms, Doors front man Jim Morrison staggered onstage and berated the people of his native state for being too dumb to leave Florida and move to California.
He encouraged the audience to strip naked. And then he started asking questions. "You didn't come here for music, did you? You didn't come to rock and roll. You came for something else, didn't you? You came for something else--WHAT IS IT?" A long pause followed.
"You want to see my cock, don't you? That's what you came for, isn't it? YEAHHH!"
And then Morrison unleashed his love scud. Or maybe he didn't. To this day, no one is sure.
Aftermath:
Four days later, after attracting the attention of the FBI and Richard Nixon, six warrants were filed for Morrison's arrest. This
was to have been the first show on a long U.S. tour, but as word
spread of Morrison's conduct, promoters canceled shows and Doors songs
were removed from radio playlists. Though Morrison completed L.A. Woman
after this incident, and his trial resulted in only two misdemeanor
convictions, the Miami incident effectively ended his career. His life
would end in a Parisian bathtub in July 1971, unless you believe
tabloids.
Grace Slick: 1978, Germany
Meltdown:
Jefferson Starship's European tour was not going well. At the Lorelei
Festival, their first show in Germany, fans rioted when it was
announced that singer Grace Slick was too sick to perform. The next
night, in Hamburg, the band probably wished Slick was still ailing.
Drunk as a skunk, she took the stage in a Nazi uniform, goose-stepped
around the stage and taunted fans about losing World War II, pausing
occasionally to insert a finger or two up the nostrils of puzzled
German men, whom she called a bunch of Nazis.
Aftermath: Slick
quit the band immediately after the show, and the group staggered on
without her through the rest of the tour. "I think she created punk
rock that night," recalled drummer John Tarball, but sadly, the rest of
her career was anything but punk.
In 1981, she rejoined the band, dropped the "Jefferson" and unleashed some of the worst and most unaccountably popular rock of all time. "We Built This City," in particular, was voted the worst song ever by Blender last year, and it's safe to say that no other creative decline will ever compare.
Dutch
In Dutch, mondegreens are popularly referred to as Mama appelsap ("Mommy applejuice"), from the Michael Jackson song Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' which features the lyrics Mama-se mama-sa ma-ma-coo-sa, and was once misheard as Mama say mama sa mam[a]appelsap. The Dutch radio station 3FM had a show Superrradio (originally Timur Open Radio)
run by Timur Perlin and Ramon with an item in which listeners were
encouraged to send in mondegreens under the name "Mama appelsap". The
segment was popular for years.[54]
French
In French, the phenomenon is also known as 'hallucination auditive', especially when referring to pop songs.
The title of the film La Vie en rose depicting the life of Édith Piaf can be mistaken for "L'Avion rose" (The pink airplane).[55][56]
The title of the 1983 French novel Le Thé au harem d'Archi Ahmed ("Tea in the Harem of Archi Ahmed") by Mehdi Charef (and the 1985 movie of the same name) is based on the main character mishearing le théorème d'Archimède ("the theorem of Archimedes") in his mathematics class.
A classic example in French is similar to the "Lady Mondegreen" anecdote: in his 1962 collection of children's quotes La Foire aux cancres, the humorist Jean-Charles[57] refers to a misunderstood lyric of "La Marseillaise"
(the French national anthem): "Entendez-vous ... mugir ces féroces
soldats" (Do you hear those savage soldiers roar?) is heard as
"...Séféro, ce soldat" (that soldier Séféro).
German
Mondegreens are a well-known phenomenon in German, especially where
non-German songs are concerned. They are sometimes called, after a
well-known example, Agathe Bauer-songs (I got the power, a song by Snap!, transferred to a German female name).[58][59] Journalist Axel Hacke published a series of books about them, beginning with Der weiße Neger Wumbaba ("The White Negro Wumbaba", after the line der weiße Nebel wunderbar from Der Mond ist aufgegangen).[60]
It is at least an urban legend that children, when painting nativity scenes, occasionally include next to the Child, Mary, Joseph, the shepherds and so forth yet another, laughing creature: This is the Owi, who must be depicted laughing. The reason is to be found in the line Gottes Sohn! O wie lacht / Lieb' aus Deinem göttlichen Mund (God's Son! Oh, how does love laugh out of Thy divine mouth!) from Silent Night. The subject is Lieb',
but it is a poetic contraction of "die Liebe", leaving away the final
-e and the definite article (in German, though not in English, mandatory
in such a context), so the phrase is not easily understood and it might
well be a statement about a person named Owi laughing "in a loveable
manner" (the adverb lieb), although the rest of the sentence still makes no sense.[61][62]Owi lacht is the title of at least one book about Christmas and Christmas songs.[63]
Hebrew
Ghil'ad Zuckermann cites the Hebrew example mukhrakhím liyót saméakh ("we must be happy", with a grammar mistake) instead of (the high-register) úru 'akhím belév saméakh ("wake up, brothers, with a happy heart"), from the well-known song "Háva Nagíla" ("Let's be happy").[64]
The Israeli site dedicated to Hebrew mondegreens has coined the term "avatiach" (Hebrew for watermelon) for "mondegreen", named for a common mishearing of Shlomo Artzi's award-winning 1970 song "Ahavtia" ("I loved her", using a form uncommon in spoken Hebrew).[65]
