The silly ladies of the Garden Club were in their usual tizzy, and all because a consortium of developers was proposing to upend the ordinance that protected the town's ancient alameda along the river, to exscind all of the oaks that towered up above it and to construct a handsome five-story parking garage on the site.
Sorry, dude, prepare to get excinded from the National Junior Linguist League and turn in your badge -- you failed the litmus test of Etymological Omniscience with your insistence that "motza" is a stand-alone morpheme, when it is OBVIOUSLY a triple construction from "money: lots of."
Please, I would speak in my own defense: you impute these crimes to me because, you say, my family are an allochthonous people, strange, unknowable and out of place, though we have lived among you for twenty generations, and in consequence, you run me to ground with a great hue and cry that sounds like the caterwaul of the devil himself.
"Hear that penetrating, plangent cry, like a bleating," exclaimed Marion, scrambling to her vantage point in the oriel, "and behold, we can espy our brother holding a down down on the down, attempting to satisfy his circadian spike in randiness with her, while -- over there -- we observe poor little Father Wilkins trudging up the bend in the path, all unaware, about to be petrified to his very soul."
Thou art not a healer of hearts, but a quacksalver; thou requitest my faith with baseless scrip; thou speak'st not true but equivocatest, for thy promises, sumptuous without, are hollow within; and thou hast skulked in dark places when thou shouldst have walked me into the sunlight.
If the opera singer was extraordinary -- her voice comprised such honeyed tones that her larynx was called melliferous, in the press -- then her manager, her mother, was positively sui generis: this fierce mama bear would enforce a strict six month hiatus after her daughter's performance of a role onstage, ensconcing -- really, imprisoning -- the young diva in a remote mountain villa where she was cut off from the blandishments of importunate impresarios and an adoring public.
"Why are you young women writers such a bunch of recalcitrant niggards with your syllables," asked my thesis adviser, as she noisily attacked the second of the two foot-long hot dogs that formed her deskfast that day, wolfing about half of it down before continuing, "who persist in using short, simple words when there are so many gorgeous sesquipedalian ones available -- I mean, are you all so afraid of your own feminacy that you still have to try and sound like Ernest Hemingway in this day and age?"
Heavens, Rachel, what a snafu during mass this morning: Clancy blew up when some common niggard dropped a quarter into the collection- basket, and denounced him as a Godless wretch and so on, and nothing but nothing would do to pacify his pretended atheophobia -- he turned on me next and accused me of trying to usurp his authority.
Ah, Fernando, most handsome of the waiters, with thy -- thy cymotrichous locks ruffled by the -- by the aeolian breath of the air conditioner, Fernando my muse, fountainhead of my inspiration -- hey and while you're going back there you would'ja cut me another tranche of beef and get me a Corona? -- would not I a niggard be if, in writing verse, I stinted in my praise of thee?
O daughter, monstrous, wanton! -- thou wert espied by one and all down in the field, reclining and spreading thy limbs to make a decussate figure in the grass, for the pleasure of some hideous Satan-sent whangdoodle -- or perhaps the cartwright's son from the village? --it wast hard to make out -- and now thou appearest at thy father's table, in thy selfsame green dress, to make a cockshy of me before my guests!
Being seated next to her at a dinner was at least tolerable, because she had the politeness to shut up and listen when someone else was speaking, but when the ambassador invited her up to the dais to "say a few words", I understood he had punched the tar baby, for this self-styled diseuse was bound to rattle on for an hour or more about the legion of adversities she had had to overcome on the way to attaining her present exalted position.
Don't be distressed, my pet; your father and I were just engaged in a bit of spirited logomachy over what to call you -- I say "common imbecile", and he says "encephalo-something-or-other" and claims your condition is the sequela to my having dropped you on your head so many times when you were an infant, a fault -- I admit it! -- for which he never fails to fustigate me when an occasion presents itself, being the carping niggler that he is.
If tippling and playing the ponies have landed you so hard on queer street you've actually had to change your address, don't go spang up to one of the troglodytes who are your new next-door neighbors and ask for the loaner of ten quid, but softly softly, spinning out the delights of a certain pub you favor, and making him think the trip there was his own idea.
Comrade, I can't fathom why you would quibble over a few rubles -- your function is to toil as a good Stakhanovite until you die, and mine, as commissar, to represent the interest of the great soviet leviathan -- really, what is left to discuss?
The elementary school principal enlivened the PTA meeting with her droll observation, "I marvel at the effrontery you people show in criticizing the 'exiguous portions' on offer in the cafeteria, when day after day you deposit your ravenous, two hundred pound leviathans on our doorstep and expect us to keep them happy after having voted yet again last November to cut the school budget!"
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