To save all the need to read many repebreastive posts, I've consolidated them here for your dining and dancing pleasure. Note the similarity of tone and imagery. What is the name of that activity with kids sitting in a circle all doing pretty much the same thing. Oh the name escapes me...
Actually a decent display of vocabulary, not bad grammar, imagery a little thin, cliches a bit overdone. Still, promising.
No, seriously...
Pastorio ------------------------- Kevin S. Wilson
I didn't know that William Shawn was Wallace's father. Took me this prompt. But, you missed the point of my comment.
To which Barb wrote from her position of intellectual superiority and self-thrilling erudition:
Burger wars 2059Why, sure. If you're going to stick with the labored attempts at being patronizing and clever, why not go whole hog? Oh, my. My, my, my. Shirley by now the Usernet has...
WHOOOOOOSH
Kevin went on to write, apropos a different twist in his knickers:
Burger wars 2060Nancy Young Beef. Bread. What's to be better? Ok. Not better, just more to you taste. Freshly cooked burgers from any of the burger places aren't dry, either...
Clearly not. However, my using "mouthfeel" is a professional usage because it's from a field in which I am a professional, and have been for a few decades.
Puhleeze.
To which Barb opined from her Olympian post:
To which the suddenly sober-seeming Kevin replied with a sudden eclat of effete japery, demonstrating that same puckish sense of humor so endearing to all and sundry. Really:
To which Barb offered her seriously approved humor, removing her glbuttes for additional emphasis like those guys in the aspirin commercials:
And Kevin went on to write: (we could almost see the furrowed brow and leather elbow patches)
insipidity... insipiditude... insipidence... insipience...
Kevin also wrote this rollicking next part:
Gawd Awful DinnerOn Wed, 08 Mar 2006 19:04:36 GMT, "Michael"Dog3-" Lonergan" snipped..... Sorry your dinner was so horrible. I wanted to comment that I have a friend who raises shrimp. My...
prose made it all the better. Guilty pleasure.
And still more, using those cutesy conventions used by the initiates; the "innards," as we say:
spread:
offering a thudding suckup and an analytical capacity only exceeded by the rubber plant in my living room:
A fitting ending to a frayed panoply of delicate, self-congratulatory Triumph of form over substance.
HAND. NO. Wait. Have a terrific day. One of the best days you've ever had. Better still, have the best day you've ever had. Anything is too good for you. And I mean that most sincerely.
No, seriously...
Pastorio
