You know, Amos, I've always had a sort of soft spot for men who called otehrs flaming yak-bottoms and been rude to community Elders, particularly those who introduced heretical metaphysical notions into staid communities.

OK, OK, I've been an impertinent wench who often strayed off-topic into the Miasma of Malapropism and didn't even leave bread crumbs to guide her rescuers. For this, I am, to quote Monica Lewinsky, truly, deeply, like, you know.

There, I certianly feel better, and it beats hanging around the Mudcat Tavern, where, fer fock's sake, they're CLEANING! What has this place come to?

WW