Monday, August 1, 2016

Life is a zoo, or Helping you navigate through Blogworld's choppy waters


  1. Why thank you for this helpful hint.

  2. As Child said, thank you much.

  3. "Such sagacity..."

    I never can remember if it's sagacity that's a compliment or bombasity, so I just flip a coin when I want to praise someone. I think you might be right, though, because it makes sense that bombasity is what you do when you drop explosives on people from way up high. Of course, sagacity sounds to me like when you strangle someone, so I just really don't know, but I wouldn't be surprised but what Rhymes has heard of at least one of these two words, so maybe he can put us on the right path.

  4. Thank you, 3 Musketeers, for your overwhelming show of insincere support!

    P.S. to Snowbrush, as we say in the Deep South, they ain't no such of a thang as bombasity. Are you thinking of pomposity or maybe bombastic? I am neither pompous nor bombastic, by the way, but I'll take sagacious, even if it was offered tongue-in-cheek.

  5. "as we say in the Deep South, they ain't no such of a thang as bombasity"

    I'm a native born Deep Southlander, and I never heard nobody say that--not even once--but since you don't know what the word means, I'll tell you: it's the same as bombasiousnessism, and a person who does it is a bombasiousnessismer. Of course, I'm probably talking way over your head because you don't seem none too educated, and you have other problems too, but I won't get into them other than to point out that you're a low-down lying dog who makes stuff up in the middle of an erudite conversation, and I think that your sour temperament might be the result of being kept awake all night by fleas, that if the mange hasn't taken away all your fur in which case you would be kept awake all night by shivering, and your wife won't even let you have a blanket because she knows that mange is contagious, and she doesn't want to catch it by using a blanket that you used.

    I had a dog with mange, and the creosote dip I put him in left him with some neurological problems (it cured his mange though). For one thing, he smacked his lips all the time, so one day while Dad and I were sitting on the porch drinking 151-proof Bacardi, I decided to get the dog drunk to see if he would continue to smack his lips. I didn't know how much to give him--via a syringe down this throat--so I figured 30ccs would be about right. Unfortunately, he passed out so fast that I worried that he was going to die. He didn't, though and I learned the following: the rum made no difference in regard to his lip-smacking; dogs (that dog anyway) metabolize liquor out of their systems way faster than people, and, finally, dogs don't even get a hangover.

    Peggy is in Denver at a button convention, but one of the last things she said before she left was that she loves you because you're so funny. I said to her that I'm funny too, and she agreed that I was, but she said that I'm not funny in quite the same way as you, but rather in a way that doesn't make anyone laugh but quite the reverse. I still don't know what she meant by that, but I took it as a compliment because it sounds to me like what she was trying to say was that I'm so brilliantly profound that people have to stop and reflect upon everything I say, and this doesn't give them time to laugh.

  6. Snowbrush, I seem to have touched a nerve. Nevertheless, thank you for your very long and very interesting (by which I mean virtually incomprehensible) comment! Just kidding. I do think that with a little work and innovative punctuation, though, you might join Putz in Blogworld's Hall of Fame.

    I understand completely what Peggy means, as there are a couple of kinds of funny. For example, I am funny ha ha and you are funny peculiar. Wow, that's three times in a single comment that I'm kidding.

  7. "Snowbrush, I seem to have touched a nerve."

    Just so you'll know, it is not so.