Monday, June 25, 2012

Please Say What You Mean

There are as many ways to communicate as there are ways to cook chicken. The clearest is often on a tattoo. “I love Nick” or “I love Mummy.” You immediately know where this guy stands. A politician on the other hand when asked what flavor ice cream he prefers, vanilla or chocolate, will say vanilla is nice and whitish and chocolate is sweet and brownish as he Googles to learn what the actual favorite of his base is in the state where he is hustling.

Bumper stickers claim “I found it” while another says, “We never lost it” and the thirds asks, “Just what is it?” That’s as far as clarity goes.

I asked my grand kid if he had homework and he responded, “Sort of.” What does that mean?

Sometimes words aren’t necessary. My mother used to simply give her famous look and I knew I had to shape up and pronto. I tried the same with my own family as they were growing up. I’d give the look and they’d ask if I had something in my eye or a severe thyroid condition.

When I absolutely do not want to know what is going on I visit my doctor who attended the “School of Obscurity” He said I had Constant Pocahontas Edema which sounds impressive but actually means I was bloated from eating to many Indian nuts.

A lawyer accused his wife of a “Fraudulent Legacy of Garnishment.” He means his wife served him a Big Mac and tired to pass it off as her own, just like her mother did.

Today cops knocked on our doors assuring us all that “the perpetrator of the alleged vehicular felony was apprehended in the vicinity of the alleged vanquished.” He could have said instead “the bum who stole the car left unlocked, was caught.

Words appearing in the proximity of this white document have now ceased to be continuing. In other words,


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