Ray's Rainfall Update
Today is Day 197, DY 1. On this day the CB passed the important 30" rainfall total for the current year. The actual rainfall sum to date is, 29.62" + 1.41" = 31.03".
All this rainfall, plus the amazing cloud cover has made this Beelzebubberriffic tolerable for a change. Many prosper. The vines are laden with grapes. The annual sunflowers are seven feet tall. Yet, withall, the cloud cover frets my bosom companion, Crumby, nocturnally. There is no Telescope Tomfoolery in these parts.
That's right Ray. Sadly, there is no Telescope Tomfoolery. Were it not for a rigorous maintenance schedule, the telescopery gear would have collected plenty of dust. Praise the Goddess, Lleu Llaw, employing his lion-like steady hand, keeps all that gear dusted. No Telescope Tomfoolery, however, frees me up for other interesting activities, self-analysis, for example. Lately, I have been reflecting on how self-analysis may influence ovation. What ugly truths have I discovered via self-analysis, Ray, that may corrupt otherwise accurate ovations?
Beats me, Crumby. Dingleberries, maybe, or a great hemorrhoid.
You have, willfully perhaps, misconstrued me, bosom companion. What we are considering here is self-analysis of the inner noggin regions, that capacious yet mysterious space between one's ears, as opposed to the merely mundane anal region.
Hold it Crumby. You are bamboozling yourself needlessly. Ugly truths discovered via self-analysis can not corrupt accurate ovations. If an ovation turns out, it's the same difference. However, if you think about yourself all the time, instead of memorizing patterns, your ovations shall then suffer. Your ovations shall not be worth spit. Yep. The proof is in the puffin'.
Yep Ray. And PA has the flavor.
Correct Crumby. The flavor most favored in the USA.
Where's Prince Albert, Ray?
He's in the can. Huh-huh.
All this rainfall, plus the amazing cloud cover has made this Beelzebubberriffic tolerable for a change. Many prosper. The vines are laden with grapes. The annual sunflowers are seven feet tall. Yet, withall, the cloud cover frets my bosom companion, Crumby, nocturnally. There is no Telescope Tomfoolery in these parts.
That's right Ray. Sadly, there is no Telescope Tomfoolery. Were it not for a rigorous maintenance schedule, the telescopery gear would have collected plenty of dust. Praise the Goddess, Lleu Llaw, employing his lion-like steady hand, keeps all that gear dusted. No Telescope Tomfoolery, however, frees me up for other interesting activities, self-analysis, for example. Lately, I have been reflecting on how self-analysis may influence ovation. What ugly truths have I discovered via self-analysis, Ray, that may corrupt otherwise accurate ovations?
Beats me, Crumby. Dingleberries, maybe, or a great hemorrhoid.
You have, willfully perhaps, misconstrued me, bosom companion. What we are considering here is self-analysis of the inner noggin regions, that capacious yet mysterious space between one's ears, as opposed to the merely mundane anal region.
Hold it Crumby. You are bamboozling yourself needlessly. Ugly truths discovered via self-analysis can not corrupt accurate ovations. If an ovation turns out, it's the same difference. However, if you think about yourself all the time, instead of memorizing patterns, your ovations shall then suffer. Your ovations shall not be worth spit. Yep. The proof is in the puffin'.
Yep Ray. And PA has the flavor.
Correct Crumby. The flavor most favored in the USA.
Where's Prince Albert, Ray?
He's in the can. Huh-huh.
posted by ray pistrum at Thursday, July 05, 2007
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