tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1748367707718512104.post7634330255633475248..comments2023-10-17T08:47:41.944-04:00Comments on <b>Sterling Stinks</b>: Well Eschews Me!Sterling Stinkshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12247181845497507654noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1748367707718512104.post-45440927599907967832010-07-30T19:59:59.030-04:002010-07-30T19:59:59.030-04:00Certainly. What's more, I, along with Willie ...Certainly. What's more, I, along with Willie the Shake recognize that Polonius is a maundering, busy-body, an ol' bore and fussbudget. Does THAT ring a bell or two in your cavernous dome? Don't hide behind any curtains, pallie. But do take a peek at the fella in the mirror.Mr. A. Grumpus !, to younoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1748367707718512104.post-10872834560982965192010-07-30T18:14:45.043-04:002010-07-30T18:14:45.043-04:00Oh Grumpus, you do make me laugh, but I must pass ...Oh Grumpus, you do make me laugh, but I must pass on your offer to be my Henry Higgins. So in love are you with Professor Steling that you cannot see past his windbag ways. You seem to be a man of culture, let me throw a quote from The Bard your way: Brevity is the soul of wit. Ring any bells?Sterling Stinkshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12247181845497507654noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1748367707718512104.post-26491533452385941922010-07-30T02:25:53.716-04:002010-07-30T02:25:53.716-04:00What in the name of all that is good and holy are ...What in the name of all that is good and holy are you rambling about? Have you no dictionary? Is "Eschew" not in your vocabulary, you monosyllabic crybaby? The man is trying to uplift you into the majesty and richness of the English language and you grunt along like a dissipated animal that refuses to learn. Ug ug ug, Sterling stinks. It's nauseating and bewildering. Chained to the rock, you are, and refuse to watch the shadows dance. Music in the air and you stuff your stubby fingers in your filthy ears. I imagine that presented with a guitar you'd pull the strings off and use it as a mere club with which to bash a rudimentary rhythm on a dirt floor that would just angry up your blood. OOGA-MOOGA-GAJOOGA!! Grunt grunt. It's too much to comprehend, my soul aches to read your one-note drivel. Would there be a way that I could turn your mere scorn to lusty encomiums. Then you would dance down the aisles of life, a joyous, productive Yankee fan. Sir, your obsession with Sterling's purported gaffes and flair for the richness of language are just, ahem, unnatural. Time for the clinic!A. Grumpus (!)noreply@blogger.com