My guess is that I will have 3 solid newbies by April. The betting window is open, if you want a piece of this action. After last night’s browbeating, we increased the number of official members by 0. Zero. Nil. Ixnay on the embersmay. My forehead is scarred from beating it against the wall.
Speaking of Sailors, LPW, by hook or by crook, has managed to swing his way into Big Jake, thanks to regrooving on Stealth’s part vis-à-vis the PSATs (short for pissants, I think—what do I know, I mean, this is only my night job). I keep waiting for pissant (cf puissant, which my spellcheck would have me prefer, which hardly means the same thing) awareness to strike the others of my juniors, but so far, they are blissfully preferring Big Jake to Little Pissants. Whatever.
Somehow I worked myself into temporary hysteria this morning over the strike list for the Pups, until I realized that I was looking at my own version of an old list and that my mind was going, no doubt as a result of some mad cow encounters in Paris back in the early 90s. (Nicole and Brianne, Sailors emeritus presently in the City of Light, will, I hope, stick to les poissons—not to be confused with pissants or puissance, although now the spellchecker wants me to type poisons—Jeesh!)
This has to be the most jumbled bunch of writing I’ve done in a while. Obviously I am just too excited over the forthcoming podcast with MB and O’C. A waiting world is atwitter.
Speaking of Twitter, this morning I tweeted the first DebateTab message regarding the Pups, just to see. Worked fine—my phone rang about a minute later. I promise to keep these to a minimum, but they are sort of fun. Sample conversation:
Tweet: Go here.
New tweet: No, wait, go there.
Newer tweet: Some people go both ways, where are you?
Etc., etc., etc.
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