. . . “not a wit” is. . . witless. “Not a whit” = “not a bit; not an iota; not the smallest part,” etc. “Not a wit” simply indicates someone without wit, a dullard, a dummy, a subliterate “Dunning-Krugerand” wannabe self-pub writer. *heh*
I Have Known. . .
A few guys named “Harry” whose names would better have been spelled “Hairy.”
That is all.
Tepezza® Woulda RUINED Marty Fedlman’s Career!
Just sayin’.
Easy-Peasy Din-Din
Dinner this evening: light and multi-culti. Cheesy bean and ancho chile tapas with. . . coleslaw. *heh*
Remember “The Frugal Gourmet”?
Yeh, he wasn’t. Frugal, that is. But by adapting his recipes and using genuinely frugal ingredients and techniques, I found that I was able to make some nutritious and delicious meals inexpensively.
“shrugs* I’m sure he was “frugal” by a definition of the word that was held by folks who, nowadays, would waste $$ on crap coffee from “Starclucks,” but that ain’t frugal.
It Ain’t Easy, Ya Know?
As I observe the passing scene, I try, I really do try, to take the Apostle Paul’s counsel to heart, but it ain’t easy, ya know?
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.
My Name Is NOT “Joe Btfsplk”
No, that is not a rain cloud you see hovering over my head. It’s smoke from me constantly burning the lies from politicians, Mass MEdia Hivemind Podpeople, Academia Nut Fruitcakes, and other assorted Children of the Lie.
The Country’s In the Very Best of Hands
CwaZy (pervy, racist) UnKa JoE, ZOMBIE POOPY-PANTS President in Name Only and his imaginary friends. . .
Rational “Gender Identity”
Girls are born with an “innie.” Boys are born with an “outie.” Anyone who tries to tell kids this isn’t the determiner, just answer, “OK, Groomer,” and put them in your rear view mirror.
Olde Pharte Syndrome® Strikes Again
Now and again, I hear (between my ears) Ravenscroft’s voice singing the melody to “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch” but with different lyrics featuring Son&Heir’s dog. . .
“You’re a good dog, Mr. Hobbs. . . ”
And that quite often invokes Olde Pharte Syndrome®, and I am transported (again, between my ears) back to Capitol Recording, LA, 1971, where my intro to 70s-era recording technology was performed by Bud Cole, Ravenscroft’s frequent sound engineer/producer, chatting with me as he worked the board.
Ah! Memories. They are what tell us when we have gotten old enough, eh? *heh*