Just when I thought I was making progress, Shooting Parrots left the following comment on my previous post:
“You may be keeping up with the posts target, but your sentence ratio has just fallen dramatically.”
While what he says may be true, talk about raining on someone’s parade.
But that’s okay, D.H. and G.P., because I am a bigger person than to take umbrage over something so inconsequential in the overall scheme of things.
Speaking of which, contemplating the overall scheme of things (the past, the present, the future) can prove quite daunting, and some are better at it than others. I am certainly no Pollyanna, but I am not a doomsday prophet either. I prefer to listen to happy music from days gone by unencumbered by scenes of a post-apocalyptic future.
Alas, it was not to be. I found this clip (2:15). Bob Crosby is probably spinning in his grave. (For those of you who care about such things, bandleader and singer George Robert “Bob” Crosby (1913 - 1993) was the younger brother of singer Harry Lillis “Bing” Crosby (1903 - 1977).)
Nevertheless, and be that as it may, let us gird up our loins and march with confidence toward the Emerald City.
There. My sentence ratio is back on track, and my paragraph ratio has shown marked improvement.
