Ménage à Blog

I’ve noticed that my posts generally seem to be about twice as long as is comfortable to read. Maybe three times? Anywho, henceforth, I’m going to try to be more concise, to the point, and in general; brief. I’m not making hard contract promises. I just promise to try to improve. At least I will try. That’s more than a lot of blog writers that I’ve quit reading ever did.

One that I haven't quit reading is Shannon at Bless Your Heart. That ceramic fish that she posted a pic of a while back has bothered me. It just creeped me out. This morning, it finally clicked that the face on the fish is perhaps the face of the caterpillar from Alice In Wonderland. Hmmm? Speaking of wonderland, I'm giving a free pass to the funny but maybe scary People's Cube web site. Be your own jury.

Yesterday, I was treated once again to a performance of a grand master manure spreader. I stood in awe, as he spewed such a widely ranging torrent of English verbosity over a simple subject and concept, so as to completely shroud it in a thick mire of what one could only politely call mental fecal something nor other. The verbal barrage was relentless for several minutes, completely offending all minds of any level of cultivation or sophistication within ear fall. For anyone to have to be exposed to it, was criminal. It was an even greater crime that his boss sat there, actually beaming proudly over his accomplishment, his hands clasped in a prayerful expression of his admiration, with a proud smirk accenting his glowing stare of infatuation.

Another of his boss’s underlings had to go and show off by saying, “I understand what he is saying.” Wow! That placed him in some elite category. Then, he proceeded to paraphrase the linguistic equivalent of an interstate highway, into a few simple common English sentences. “Ooooh touch you!”, I thought. I had to wonder if he is as infatuated with the manure spreader as his boss obviously is, or just so thrilled with his own ability to understand tortured and overworked English, that he couldn’t keep it to himself. Either way, all three of them appeared to the rest of the room, as three very strange men, of questionable mental balance and social relationship. I think everyone felt sorry for those that had to return to work with the ménage à trois. They have my sympathy.

Speaking of sympathy, Palmetto Sweetheart has a list of notable deaths of recent. And it seems she has taken SC Girly Grl’s crazy test and failed. I figure she either cheated on the test, or just didn’t understand the questions. If that sounds crazy, that’s okay. I passed the test, and of course have been state certified as crazy for years. It seems SC Girly Grl is looking for more answers than the crazy test can extract. Sometimes answers come with the questions, and sometimes they come later, like in the next day’s mail. But sometimes… Oh, I could go on about questions and answers all day, and still be nowhere but in philosophy land. Some things can be explained, and some things can’t. And that’s just the way it is, beneath the Carolina moon.

Dread