Can you name the most commonly used words in the English language?
You have 12 minutes to guess after you click the button
I got 40 out of 100; that's not very good, especially after the rest of the answers were revealed and I had my "DUH" moment.
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query words. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query words. Sort by date Show all posts
November 17, 2009
100 Most Common Words
I got 40 out of 100; that's not very good, especially after the rest of the answers were revealed and I had my "DUH" moment.
December 1, 2015
What Kind of Smart Are You?
| You Are Word Smart |
 You have a way with words, and you seem to just phrase things beautifully and effortlessly. You can talk and write your way into practically anything. People are enchanted by the words you choose. You are probably a bit of a word nerd at heart. Word games and crossword puzzles delight you. You are the type of person who benefits from talking things out. You often say something before you truly think it. |
April 14, 2009
Jesus Weeps
And so should we all.
Usually, I try to add some commentary or background information along with my photos.
These do not need it. Words will not, cannot do them justice.
This is a case where a picture is indeed better than a thousand words....but a thousand tears are not enough.
At The Cross of Our Lord, Groom, Texas.
Usually, I try to add some commentary or background information along with my photos.
These do not need it. Words will not, cannot do them justice.
This is a case where a picture is indeed better than a thousand words....but a thousand tears are not enough.
At The Cross of Our Lord, Groom, Texas.
July 18, 2013
Topical Typing Trivia
Today is my h.s. typing/business teacher's birthday and in honor of her, here's this bit of trivia.
From The Old Farmer's Almanac:
What is the fastest speed on record (words per minute) for typing text?
There are three different words per minute (wpm) records -- for the manual typewriter, the electric typewriter, and the personal computer keyboard. On a manual typewriter, the world record is 176 wpm, and on an electric typewriter it is 216. In an official test in 1991, Gregory Arakelian of Virginia set the personal computer record with 158 wpm.
Sure beats my puny 54 WPM.
From The Old Farmer's Almanac:
What is the fastest speed on record (words per minute) for typing text?
There are three different words per minute (wpm) records -- for the manual typewriter, the electric typewriter, and the personal computer keyboard. On a manual typewriter, the world record is 176 wpm, and on an electric typewriter it is 216. In an official test in 1991, Gregory Arakelian of Virginia set the personal computer record with 158 wpm.
Sure beats my puny 54 WPM.
August 15, 2015
The Summer of ' 69
A "bump" of this post from August of '08 because today is the anniversary of the first day of Woodstock.
I remember that summer very well; I had made my first real money at my first real job (and the first thing I bought was The Ventures Golden Greats album) and I was due to start high school that fall.
It was in August of that year that most of the class took a trip to Lake Foss in Oklahoma. Several of us boys rode in the back of a long cattle trailer with most of the equipment, the camp stoves, skis, tents, etc. and we joked and laughed and smoked cigarettes all the way there.
Not being much of a skier, I would go off hiking or fishing while everyone else was out on the water. I came from a skiing family, but never cared for the water sport. (one of the reasons might have been the "water skiers enema" I suffered the first time I hit the lake surface and skidded along on my bottom for 20 yards.)
I've also never been able to sleep in a strange place, at least not the first night. It was nearly the middle of the night when everyone else but myself finally fell asleep. Earlier that evening, a couple of the parents who had come along as chaperones had told us "There's some buses full of hippies in a camp down the way...stay away from 'em!"
Not being able to sleep and like most other teenagers when told not to do something, I ventured near the brightly-painted buses like a moth drawn to a flame. As I drew closer, I could hear singing, some musical instruments being played. I quietly walked up to the swing-out door and knocked softly upon the frame. The music immediately stopped, as did the production of the sickly-sweet aromatic smoke that I had smelled.
"Who's there?" challenged a voice. "Uh...just heard ya playin' music...." I stammered. A figure in the darkness came close "It's just a kid." said a soft, sweet feminine voice. Before I knew it, hands were gently pulling me inside. Oh Lord, I thought...what had I got myself into?
"Sit down." came the softly-spoken command from the female who had brought me into the bus. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I could see a shapely young woman of around 20 yrs. old, long hair and a flowing dress that clung to her figure which was now deliciously crowded against me on the bus seat. A few questions were sent my way from the dark recesses of the bus, what was I doing there, where was I from, did we have any extra "munchies". After mumbling out my replies, the music started back up and so did the odd smelling smoke.
The musical instruments consisted of many I had never seen; an African "harp", some homemade woodwinds, various weird drums and other odd percussion instruments and the music was unlike any other I had ever heard. It was unstructured, with no obvious theme and seemed to end by some unspoken consensus on the part of the musicians...or when the glowing coal that seemed to float around the bus came to them.
My eyes finally adjusted to the point where I could make out a bit more about the occupants of the bus; most were young men, in their early 20's or late teens, but there were a few girls there, most importantly the one sitting beside me, nudging my body with hers as she swayed in time to the music.
As the smoke swirled around my head, so did the thoughts inside my head; by that time, I couldn't have told you my name or where I was from, but I knew that I was in love with this hippy goddess. She smelled like no other girl I had ever been close to, a combination of sweat and flowers, no perfume but something completely natural, a musky scent I later wish I could have bottled and sold for a million dollars an ounce.
I believe this was my first experience with pheromones and contact highs. I'll never forget it.
"Did you say you had some cookies?" breathed my seat mate's voice in my ear, the sensation being unlike any other I had ever experienced. "I'm hungry." Her words were as lovely as her face and body, words of some newly discovered rare substance that entered my brain like musical notes formed of Jell-O and wrapped in velvet. She laid her head on my shoulder, her hand upon my knee. My heart literally stopped because it was now up in my throat. Her breath was as hot as molten lava on my neck, her eyelashes fluttering on my cheek creating a sensation that I thought must be like being caressed by a thousand beautiful butterflies.
"Mmmm...be right back." I said and jumped up to go get the fair maiden her cookies. I didn't know if we had any in our camping supplies, but I was prepared to go rob a grocery store, kill a Keebler elf for her, strangle him with my bare hands if need be.
I ran as fast as I could go back to our campsite and rummaged through our supplies in the back of the horse trailer. "Whaddyadoin'?" came a sleepy murmur from the front of the trailer where a couple of the guys were sleeping. Ignoring them, I grabbed every sweet thing I could find, I was wanting to get back as quickly as I could, reclaim my king's perch along side my queen, bring her the plundered booty as homage.
With an armful of cookies and Twinkies and honeybuns, I made my light-headed way through the hot and humid Oklahoma night back to the darkened bus, every step filled with urgency. As I drew near the bus, the smell of that smoke was stronger than before. I climbed the steps with the goodies, searching through the darkness for my goddess. Grabbing, anxious hands relieved me of the sweets, but I paid no notice, still looking for the young woman, the only woman in the world, the one destined for me.
"Astrid split." came a voice from the corner of the bus. "She said to tell you she was over there." and I could make out the shape of a hand in the dim moonlight gesturing to a nearby VW van covered in peace signs and orange and red flowers. Not understanding what was meant, I sank to the nearest seat in abject disappointment, nearly sitting on someone who, in a crinkle of cellophane wrappers and grunts of annoyance, moved over so I could sit down. Even without looking, I could tell this certainly wasn't my hippy goddess as the smell was atrocious, greasy hair and unwashed body, a horrible odor that even the strange smelling smoke couldn't mask.
"If you ain't goin', then I am." said my new seat mate through a mouthful of Twinkies. He stood up, brushed by me as I pressed myself up against the seat, hoping that none of that miasma would migrate to me. Being a stranger, I was afraid to open my mouth in protest plus I was also breathing through it instead of my nose, trying to avoid the awful stench. I watched in horror as he strode off through the cloudy night towards my goddess's vehicle, opened the door without introduction knock or greeting and climbed in.
I hadn't the heart to stay after that, even though I found the hippies to be interesting subjects to watch, just like animals in the zoo. They might have well been extinct dodos or passenger pigeons because there certainly were no species like them where I came from!
As I was leaving, I asked one where they were headed. "We're meeting up with some friends from Kansas here and going on in a caravan to a big concert in New York state. " I was barely paying attention, instead watching my beloved's smaller bus starting to rock on its suspension. I didn't know about the facts of life, was ignorant just like most other teens of my age in that day and time, but I certainly knew that VW van was full of the birds 'n bees at that particular moment.
My heart, once in my throat, once stopped by the touch of her hand, was now on the ground, being eaten by the wild dogs of jealousy.
In my own personal history, I suppose this could've been a milestone: my first experience with hippies, my first experience with pot and my first experience with lust. I wasn't so impressed with the hippies; they stank, were greedy beggars and I didn't even realize I had even HAD an experience with illegal drugs until many years later. The lust, though... -sigh- That night, the hour or two that seemed like a microsecond at the time...or perhaps it was an eternity...that night I went from Lust to Jealousy and then came my first profound sense of Loss, at least a loss of a highly desired experience dreamed about by 99.99% of all straight 14 yr. old boys.
A few weeks later, when the television news was full of the gathering of tens of thousands of young people in a NY farmer's field, was when I realized that the hippies were headed to Woodstock. The TV footage showed countless young men, all with greasy-looking long hair, unwashed, twins of all those aboard that bus that night. There were also images of young women, also with dirty hair festooned with flowers, also unwashed, but none were my Astrid. (or it might have been "Agnes", sounds sounded differently to me that night)
With age sometimes comes wisdom, and some small measure of wisdom has even sunk into my own thick skull. I might have missed out on one of the defining moments of a young man's life, at least having the moment with my hippy goddess, but I probably also missed out on the joys of massive doses of penicillin.
(and having to explain to my mother just WHY I needed the antibiotics)
I remember that summer very well; I had made my first real money at my first real job (and the first thing I bought was The Ventures Golden Greats album) and I was due to start high school that fall.
It was in August of that year that most of the class took a trip to Lake Foss in Oklahoma. Several of us boys rode in the back of a long cattle trailer with most of the equipment, the camp stoves, skis, tents, etc. and we joked and laughed and smoked cigarettes all the way there.
Not being much of a skier, I would go off hiking or fishing while everyone else was out on the water. I came from a skiing family, but never cared for the water sport. (one of the reasons might have been the "water skiers enema" I suffered the first time I hit the lake surface and skidded along on my bottom for 20 yards.)
I've also never been able to sleep in a strange place, at least not the first night. It was nearly the middle of the night when everyone else but myself finally fell asleep. Earlier that evening, a couple of the parents who had come along as chaperones had told us "There's some buses full of hippies in a camp down the way...stay away from 'em!"
Not being able to sleep and like most other teenagers when told not to do something, I ventured near the brightly-painted buses like a moth drawn to a flame. As I drew closer, I could hear singing, some musical instruments being played. I quietly walked up to the swing-out door and knocked softly upon the frame. The music immediately stopped, as did the production of the sickly-sweet aromatic smoke that I had smelled.
"Who's there?" challenged a voice. "Uh...just heard ya playin' music...." I stammered. A figure in the darkness came close "It's just a kid." said a soft, sweet feminine voice. Before I knew it, hands were gently pulling me inside. Oh Lord, I thought...what had I got myself into?
"Sit down." came the softly-spoken command from the female who had brought me into the bus. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I could see a shapely young woman of around 20 yrs. old, long hair and a flowing dress that clung to her figure which was now deliciously crowded against me on the bus seat. A few questions were sent my way from the dark recesses of the bus, what was I doing there, where was I from, did we have any extra "munchies". After mumbling out my replies, the music started back up and so did the odd smelling smoke.
The musical instruments consisted of many I had never seen; an African "harp", some homemade woodwinds, various weird drums and other odd percussion instruments and the music was unlike any other I had ever heard. It was unstructured, with no obvious theme and seemed to end by some unspoken consensus on the part of the musicians...or when the glowing coal that seemed to float around the bus came to them.
My eyes finally adjusted to the point where I could make out a bit more about the occupants of the bus; most were young men, in their early 20's or late teens, but there were a few girls there, most importantly the one sitting beside me, nudging my body with hers as she swayed in time to the music.
As the smoke swirled around my head, so did the thoughts inside my head; by that time, I couldn't have told you my name or where I was from, but I knew that I was in love with this hippy goddess. She smelled like no other girl I had ever been close to, a combination of sweat and flowers, no perfume but something completely natural, a musky scent I later wish I could have bottled and sold for a million dollars an ounce.
I believe this was my first experience with pheromones and contact highs. I'll never forget it.
"Did you say you had some cookies?" breathed my seat mate's voice in my ear, the sensation being unlike any other I had ever experienced. "I'm hungry." Her words were as lovely as her face and body, words of some newly discovered rare substance that entered my brain like musical notes formed of Jell-O and wrapped in velvet. She laid her head on my shoulder, her hand upon my knee. My heart literally stopped because it was now up in my throat. Her breath was as hot as molten lava on my neck, her eyelashes fluttering on my cheek creating a sensation that I thought must be like being caressed by a thousand beautiful butterflies.
"Mmmm...be right back." I said and jumped up to go get the fair maiden her cookies. I didn't know if we had any in our camping supplies, but I was prepared to go rob a grocery store, kill a Keebler elf for her, strangle him with my bare hands if need be.
I ran as fast as I could go back to our campsite and rummaged through our supplies in the back of the horse trailer. "Whaddyadoin'?" came a sleepy murmur from the front of the trailer where a couple of the guys were sleeping. Ignoring them, I grabbed every sweet thing I could find, I was wanting to get back as quickly as I could, reclaim my king's perch along side my queen, bring her the plundered booty as homage.
With an armful of cookies and Twinkies and honeybuns, I made my light-headed way through the hot and humid Oklahoma night back to the darkened bus, every step filled with urgency. As I drew near the bus, the smell of that smoke was stronger than before. I climbed the steps with the goodies, searching through the darkness for my goddess. Grabbing, anxious hands relieved me of the sweets, but I paid no notice, still looking for the young woman, the only woman in the world, the one destined for me.
"Astrid split." came a voice from the corner of the bus. "She said to tell you she was over there." and I could make out the shape of a hand in the dim moonlight gesturing to a nearby VW van covered in peace signs and orange and red flowers. Not understanding what was meant, I sank to the nearest seat in abject disappointment, nearly sitting on someone who, in a crinkle of cellophane wrappers and grunts of annoyance, moved over so I could sit down. Even without looking, I could tell this certainly wasn't my hippy goddess as the smell was atrocious, greasy hair and unwashed body, a horrible odor that even the strange smelling smoke couldn't mask.
"If you ain't goin', then I am." said my new seat mate through a mouthful of Twinkies. He stood up, brushed by me as I pressed myself up against the seat, hoping that none of that miasma would migrate to me. Being a stranger, I was afraid to open my mouth in protest plus I was also breathing through it instead of my nose, trying to avoid the awful stench. I watched in horror as he strode off through the cloudy night towards my goddess's vehicle, opened the door without introduction knock or greeting and climbed in.
I hadn't the heart to stay after that, even though I found the hippies to be interesting subjects to watch, just like animals in the zoo. They might have well been extinct dodos or passenger pigeons because there certainly were no species like them where I came from!
As I was leaving, I asked one where they were headed. "We're meeting up with some friends from Kansas here and going on in a caravan to a big concert in New York state. " I was barely paying attention, instead watching my beloved's smaller bus starting to rock on its suspension. I didn't know about the facts of life, was ignorant just like most other teens of my age in that day and time, but I certainly knew that VW van was full of the birds 'n bees at that particular moment.
My heart, once in my throat, once stopped by the touch of her hand, was now on the ground, being eaten by the wild dogs of jealousy.
In my own personal history, I suppose this could've been a milestone: my first experience with hippies, my first experience with pot and my first experience with lust. I wasn't so impressed with the hippies; they stank, were greedy beggars and I didn't even realize I had even HAD an experience with illegal drugs until many years later. The lust, though... -sigh- That night, the hour or two that seemed like a microsecond at the time...or perhaps it was an eternity...that night I went from Lust to Jealousy and then came my first profound sense of Loss, at least a loss of a highly desired experience dreamed about by 99.99% of all straight 14 yr. old boys.
A few weeks later, when the television news was full of the gathering of tens of thousands of young people in a NY farmer's field, was when I realized that the hippies were headed to Woodstock. The TV footage showed countless young men, all with greasy-looking long hair, unwashed, twins of all those aboard that bus that night. There were also images of young women, also with dirty hair festooned with flowers, also unwashed, but none were my Astrid. (or it might have been "Agnes", sounds sounded differently to me that night)
With age sometimes comes wisdom, and some small measure of wisdom has even sunk into my own thick skull. I might have missed out on one of the defining moments of a young man's life, at least having the moment with my hippy goddess, but I probably also missed out on the joys of massive doses of penicillin.
(and having to explain to my mother just WHY I needed the antibiotics)
March 14, 2016
Hamlet vs PayPal
PayPal's Terms and Conditions (including their privacy policy, acceptable use policy, eBay shipping services policy and billing agreement terms) has a longer word count at 36,275 than does Shakespeare's Hamlet, which has 31,950 words in total.
April 15, 2009
What Happened?
From the 
archives:
What Happened?
At first I thought this was funny...
then I realized the awful truth of it.
Be sure to read all the way to the end!
Tax his land, Tax his bed, Tax the table at which he's fed.
Tax his tractor, Tax his mule, Teach him taxes are the rule.
Tax his cow, Tax his goat, Tax his pants, Tax his coat.
Tax his ties, Tax his shirt, Tax his work, Tax his dirt.
Tax his tobacco, Tax his drink, Tax him if he tries to think.
Tax his cigars, Tax his beers, If he cries, then Tax his tears.
Tax his car, Tax his gas, find other ways to tax his ass
Tax all he has then let him know that you won't be done till he has no dough.
When he screams and hollers, then tax him some more, tax him till he's good and sore.
Then tax his coffin, Tax his grave, Tax the sod in Which he's laid.
Put these words upon his tomb, "Taxes drove me to my doom..."
When he's gone, do not relax, it's time to apply the inheritance tax.
Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
CDL license Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax,
Fuel permit tax
Gasoline Tax (42 cents per gallon)
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Interest expense
Inventory tax IRS
Interest Charges
IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License
Tax Medicare
Tax Property
Tax Real Estate
Tax Service charge taxes
Social Security Tax
Road usage taxes
Sales Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone federal excise tax
Telephone federal universal service fee tax
Telephone federal, state and local surcharge taxes
Telephone minimum usage surcharge tax
Telephone recurring and non-recurring charges tax
Telephone state and local tax
Telephone usage charge tax Utility
Taxes Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax
And many, many more.
COMMENTS: Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago, and our nation was the most prosperous in the world.
We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest middle class in the world, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.
What happened?
And I still have to "press 1" for English
I hope this goes around world 10 times
May 10, 2010
mugwump
mugwump \MUHG-wuhmp\ , noun;
1. A person who is unable to make up his or her mind on an issue, esp. in politics; a person who is neutral on a controversial issue.
2. A Republican who refused to support the party nominee, James G. Blaine, in the presidential campaign of 1884.
I often use these Words of the Day in a self-deprecating and "humorous" manner to describe myself, but this one certainly doesn't fit me.
August 21, 2009
December 30, 2015
Hello, Goodbye
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, hello is an alteration of hallo, hollo, which came from Old High German "halâ, holâ, emphatic imperative of halôn, holôn to fetch, used especially in hailing a ferryman." It also connects the development of hello to the influence of an earlier form, holla, whose origin is in the French holà (roughly, 'whoa there!', from French là 'there'). As in addition to hello, halloo, hallo, hollo, hullo and (rarely) hillo also exist as variants or related words, the word can be spelt using any of all five vowels
"Goodbye" came from the Middle English "godbwdye", which is short for "God be with ye."
"Goodbye" came from the Middle English "godbwdye", which is short for "God be with ye."
Hello, Goodbye - The Beatles
July 19, 2017
Don't Get Yourself in a Pickle!
A "bump" from Nov. '08. No one commented, so perhaps no one or not many saw it. Unlike many of my stories, this is a true one.
Besides, I needed a post for today and just couldn't get enthused enough to work one up.
“There are three kinds of men. The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves.”
- Will Rogers
It was a Senior Work Day, and we boys were working on a Saturday, making some money for our class trip after graduation. We castrated pigs that morning, then after lunch we were instructed to move some irrigation pipe. Someone noticed an electric fence on a nearby pasture and the question was raised:
"Say, you ever pee on an electric fence?" Out of the six of us, four admitted they had and another boy and I were the only ones to admit to have not having had the experience.
"Do it!" the four urged me and the other guy. I shook my head, having been around electric fences before and not liking how the shock went through me where I had made contact with the fence after not seeing it and then accidentally walking into it. The shock was bad enough on my thighs, the thought of having "it" shocked wasn't appealing to me, not at all.
The taunts went on, but I didn't care because those words didn't hurt nearly as much as electricity. Maybe I was the only one who had been awake in eighth grade science when we learned about electricity and in particular how salt water can be a circuit and conduct current. For one experiment, we used a pickle to complete a circuit; it glowed inside and crackled like an old pool hall beer sign.
Nope, no need for me to electrify MY little dill.
The other guy was challenged by the sneers from the rest and with a show of bravado, marched over to the fence, unzipped and after a few moments of potty blush, began to urinate on the charged wire.
While others claimed to have seen a spark, I must have been in the wrong position, but I did see the guy's knees buckle, then straighten up to launch him into the air and land backwards into a muddy ditch.
It took him a while to recover, then he became angry at our laughter and turned his rage upon me.
"Your turn!" he commanded.
With tears in my eyes from laughing so hard, I declined again. "MY momma didn't raise no fool." I told him, which made him even angrier.
"You're the only one who hasn't done it!" he said. "We'll make you!" he went on, looking around at the other boys for allies.
One by one, the others shook their heads, saying they really HADN'T ever peed on a fence, just wanted to see if someone would do it.
This set the guy off and in a profanity-laden tirade, accused them of being liars.
"Better that than a dumbass." was the reply.
Besides, I needed a post for today and just couldn't get enthused enough to work one up.
“There are three kinds of men. The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves.”
- Will Rogers
It was a Senior Work Day, and we boys were working on a Saturday, making some money for our class trip after graduation. We castrated pigs that morning, then after lunch we were instructed to move some irrigation pipe. Someone noticed an electric fence on a nearby pasture and the question was raised:
"Say, you ever pee on an electric fence?" Out of the six of us, four admitted they had and another boy and I were the only ones to admit to have not having had the experience.
"Do it!" the four urged me and the other guy. I shook my head, having been around electric fences before and not liking how the shock went through me where I had made contact with the fence after not seeing it and then accidentally walking into it. The shock was bad enough on my thighs, the thought of having "it" shocked wasn't appealing to me, not at all.
The taunts went on, but I didn't care because those words didn't hurt nearly as much as electricity. Maybe I was the only one who had been awake in eighth grade science when we learned about electricity and in particular how salt water can be a circuit and conduct current. For one experiment, we used a pickle to complete a circuit; it glowed inside and crackled like an old pool hall beer sign.
Nope, no need for me to electrify MY little dill.
The other guy was challenged by the sneers from the rest and with a show of bravado, marched over to the fence, unzipped and after a few moments of potty blush, began to urinate on the charged wire.
While others claimed to have seen a spark, I must have been in the wrong position, but I did see the guy's knees buckle, then straighten up to launch him into the air and land backwards into a muddy ditch.
It took him a while to recover, then he became angry at our laughter and turned his rage upon me.
"Your turn!" he commanded.
With tears in my eyes from laughing so hard, I declined again. "MY momma didn't raise no fool." I told him, which made him even angrier.
"You're the only one who hasn't done it!" he said. "We'll make you!" he went on, looking around at the other boys for allies.
One by one, the others shook their heads, saying they really HADN'T ever peed on a fence, just wanted to see if someone would do it.
This set the guy off and in a profanity-laden tirade, accused them of being liars.
"Better that than a dumbass." was the reply.
June 30, 2007
Fairly Family Friendly
"We" want to be FFF, so this is why we're announcing our CCCC, the official ToTG
Crude Comment Control Credo
This will be a preliminary proper posting procedure, so keep this page in your preferences, please and check back frequently for further fundamentals.
"We" have decided that none of the usual, vulgar expressions will be tolerated. Bathroom humor (or "humour" if you are British or Canadian or Australian or New Zealandish) WILL be allowed, but without any curse words.
You Monty Python fans will have to get your favorite/favourite filthy fart fix from elsewhere, I'm afraid.
(ooops...I said "fart". Never again, I promise with my fearless, frivilous frequent fervor/fervour, my friend)
"Crapola" is an accepted adjective and/or adverb and can thusly be used in this context:
"His cranium contains crapola." ... which of course would substitute for "SFB".
I'm tired of being called that. Talk about labels. I'm going to usurp that unusually ugly ubiquity.
May 5, 2010
vamoose
vamoose\va-MOOS\ , verb;
1. To leave hurriedly or quickly; decamp.
2. To leave hurriedly or quickly from; decamp from.
I've done some vamoosing in my time.
Sometimes, with my mild dyslexia, I read words differently than they really are, or get a weird picture in my head when I see the word.
This popped into my head:
A VA moose.
February 20, 2013
Procession - The Moody Blues
A homemade video of one of the most interesting songs that's ever been written. With only three words for the lyrics, "Procession" basically describes the history of music from the beginning of time up to the present.
Read more about "Procession" at Wikipedia
Read more about "Procession" at Wikipedia
January 17, 2014
echt
echt [ekht] adjective German
real; authentic; genuine.
I'm of German origin, but I've never heard nor seen this word. Of course, about the only German I know is from watching old WWII movies and a few curse words I've picked up. (oddly enough, they sound pretty much like the English versions)
"Echt" sounds like the sound I make before I spit.
March 15, 2015
Go All the Way - The Raspberries
Note: saw the original video (posted here on 11/5/08) had been taken down, so I'm putting this one in its place.
This was a fairly controversial tune when it was released. From Wiki: Because of its sexually suggestive lyrics, considered risqué for the day, the song was banned by the BBC. (as well as by some radio stations in the U.S., as I recall) The repeat of the words "come on", in the bridge or middle section, is loosely based on the "come on"s that The Beatles did in "Please Please Me" (another sexually suggestive song).
This was a fairly controversial tune when it was released. From Wiki: Because of its sexually suggestive lyrics, considered risqué for the day, the song was banned by the BBC. (as well as by some radio stations in the U.S., as I recall) The repeat of the words "come on", in the bridge or middle section, is loosely based on the "come on"s that The Beatles did in "Please Please Me" (another sexually suggestive song).
November 12, 2007
Never, ever
Of all the words in the dictionary, this is one that's never been said about me.
Probably why I'm not a crime investigator, huh?
August 3, 2009
desultory
desultory \DES-uhl-tor-ee\ , adjective:
1. Jumping or passing from one thing or subject to another without order or rational connection; disconnected; aimless.
2. By the way; as a digression; not connected with the subject.
3. Coming disconnectedly or occurring haphazardly; random.
4. Disappointing in performance or progress.
It's amazing how many of these Dictionary.com Words of the Day fit this blog.
May 21, 2010
Clocks - Coldplay
Dedicated to my pal, Barb.
She heard me singing this tune in other words.
The lights go out and I can't be saved
Tides that I tried to swim against
Have brought me down upon my knees
Oh I beg, I beg and plead
Ran across this post and noticed original vid was kaput. Figgered this Yahoo one will last a while, nice live version and figgered someone else might want to listen to it again, hence the "bump" from 7/3/07.
February 5, 2015
Geisha Girls Get Gay
I was watching a video on YouTube last night: American Experience: PBS: Pearl Harbor Surprise and Remembrance. There was a segment about US/Japan relations, Japanese culture and American perceptions of the Japanese and this was a title card of a snippet from a documentary made before the war.
(click for larger view)
If you saw something like that these days, you'd think it was porn, huh?
Not only the times have changed, so have definitions of words.
(click for larger view)
If you saw something like that these days, you'd think it was porn, huh?
Not only the times have changed, so have definitions of words.
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