A Post In Which I Either Prove My Fecundity Or Disprove It With Extreme Prejudice

I've been particularly fecund lately. I apologize.

(Actually, being fecund is not something one needs to apologize for, but it sure sounds like it should be.)

(That opening has nothing to do with what follows. I just felt like saying "fecund". How often does one have a chance to say "fecund"? Of course, if I really was fecund, I'd have lots and lots of chances.)

(Come to think of it, the preceding has everything to do with what follows. For instance...)

(Here's another parenthetical expression for no good reason.)

Having said all of the above, and without further ado - because I surely did and there's no conceivable reason why you'd want more of it - I want to make it abundantly clear that I truly enjoyed being honored by CrazyCath yesterday. I had lots of fun at her expense, but she seems to have taken it in the manner in which it was intended; that is, to make fun of her wonderful generosity and then drive her to tears.

No, that's not totally honest. The tears were a bonus!

(I'm digging myself a hole here. That's OK. It will go well with the other thousand or so I've dug. Anyway, I have a stepladder.)

Actually, I've noticed something interesting concerning my readership. Many of my newer readers are either from The British Isles or have Multiple Sclerosis. My only explanation for this phenomenon is that the drugs they give you for MS must somehow make you amenable to my blandishments.

("Blandishments" is another word you don't get to use too often. Of course, blandishments often lead to fecundity.)

The drug theory espoused above...

(Espousal is sometimes a cause of fecundity, but not as often as it used to be, especially in Massachusetts.)

As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself: The drug theory espoused above in no way explains the folks from Britain. Of course, little does.

(Let's recount what has thus far transpired: Over the past few days, I've totally dissed the entire populations of Oakland and Great Britain; offended a nice person who was kind enough to give me an award; made a veiled accusation that people afflicted with Multiple Sclerosis might be addled by their drugs; and tossed off an oblique reference to the reproductive non-productivity of gay marriage.)

("Oblique" is another good word. Not as good as "Oblivious", nor as apropos, but still good.)

("Apropos" is a nice one, too, although not as fecund as "blandishments".)

(My blandishments are often obliquely apropos and obliviously fecund.)

My! You've actually made it this far without suffering an aneurysm? That is mighty impressive, especially for a gay MS patient from Great Britain or possibly Oakland. Will you marry me?

(I threw that in just so you'd know I don't have anything against gay people. I'm already married, so it was a bogus offer.)

You may by now have gathered that I'm completely out of things to say. If not, you're pretty dense. Of course, I had nothing to say right from the start of this, but I was on such a roll this week, I thought I'd see if I could just wing it and come up with something decent. It appears not.

Have a great fecund weekend.