“They saw their injured country's woe;
The flaming town, the wasted field;
Then rushed to meet the insulting foe;
They took the spear, - but left the shield.”
―Philip Freneau
.
And by a prudent flight and cunning save A life which valour could not, from the grave. A better buckler I can soon regain, But who can get another life again?
Archilochus
Please forgive me. My failing eyesight and arthritic fingers –– and this new PRESUMPTUOUS "Spelchek" device, which puports to be able to READ our MINDS –– are robbing me of my longstandung, hardwon literacy.
4 comments:
Who ever heard of anyone who would use a BROOM without a DUSTPAN accompanied by a nearby cash barrel?
I can't BELIEVE the turgid, pompous pretention of the narrator's commentary!
BAH HUMBuG –– yet AGAIN!
Attempting to "read" profundity into empty, sub-trivial nonentities is yet-another mark of a moribund civilization.
One hopes –– and prays –– that one fine day some hearty, cheerful, enlightened soul may yet put the FUN back in profundity once again.
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel! TRASH barrel!
Please forgive me. My failing eyesight and arthritic fingers –– and this new PRESUMPTUOUS "Spelchek" device, which puports to be able to READ our MINDS –– are robbing me of my longstandung, hardwon literacy.
Yeah, I'm like you, FT. I put a record on the turntable and just can't wait for it to reach the album's end. ;)
Leaving this on the cutting room floor would have increased my lifespan by at least 3:21.
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