But, as a word of caution, Swahili is not a commonly understood language. Especially so, in the US.
Sarcasm is best when understood.
Iffin’ ah ast ya ta walk on over ta th’ nex holler over the bald fer somea streaked meat and pone ‘n mebe a bicket wid mater. Leather britches isa fresh an’ special good wid the churn. ‘N we might be ahavin’ a swallow er two of squeezins. T’ branch is a runnin’, so be takin’ some care awalkin’.
You might understand that as well. I am not denigrating the intelligence of the TBPers or yourself.
I ain’t a pissin’ on yoo shoes.
Just that your sarcasm is somewhat esoteric, IMHO.
Grog, that ain’t Swahili, it’s Ebonics. I remember a newspaper article in the Charlotte Observer around 1987 or thereabouts trying to promote the use of ebonics in teaching grade school.
It stays in my memory for the unintentionally comic quote by a student who said he needed ebonics to be used so he could learn. He said, “Time I fine out what she talkin bout, she be done flonk me.”
It’s OK, Grog. I ain’t here to be understood, I’m here to understand, as Il Povorollo prayed….well, and to entertain myself.
I was at University working towards my degree in Secondary Education during the great ebonics debate. My area of interest were the Social Sciences and upon graduation I’d be able to instruct in such topics as History, Government and Psychology. Fun stuff.
Now, I could clearly make the connection that the ideas being pushed by my professors in education were in direct conflict with what I was learning in my history classes and my psychology classes. I would lecture my education professors in fruitless attempts to point out that allowing people to speak their gibberish would condemn them to eternal poverty. I pointed out that a shared common language is what holds a nation-state together but to no avail. These jug-heads were convinced that forcing these people to give up their baby-talk would hurt their self esteem and that we, the educators, needed to do everything in our power to accommodate these gibberish speaking dullards.
I was not meek about any of this. I would interrupt during lectures and demand some kind of proof to support these wild theories. If not satisfied, I would follow the professor back to his or her office and continue arguing there as well. Not once did I experience anything but wild collectivist arguments from these clowns.
1) Only if the jar was pre-loosened.
2) This is obviously misogynist, since pickles represent the enslavement of women to making sandwiches for evil white men. DOWN WITH PICKLES!!!
Is this Hillary’s “jumping the shark” moment? I sure hope so.
“Is this Hillary’s ‘jumping the shark’ moment? I sure hope so.”
Nah. Cankles is a lawyer. With regard to sharks, she’s got professional courtesy.
See? She goan be ah’ight. Y’all talkin bout Hillry sick, sheeit. She to’ that jah pickle ass UP.
Ed,
I got it.
But, as a word of caution, Swahili is not a commonly understood language. Especially so, in the US.
Sarcasm is best when understood.
Iffin’ ah ast ya ta walk on over ta th’ nex holler over the bald fer somea streaked meat and pone ‘n mebe a bicket wid mater. Leather britches isa fresh an’ special good wid the churn. ‘N we might be ahavin’ a swallow er two of squeezins. T’ branch is a runnin’, so be takin’ some care awalkin’.
You might understand that as well. I am not denigrating the intelligence of the TBPers or yourself.
I ain’t a pissin’ on yoo shoes.
Just that your sarcasm is somewhat esoteric, IMHO.
Just sayin’.
Regards.
(Let the flames roll)
Grog, that ain’t Swahili, it’s Ebonics. I remember a newspaper article in the Charlotte Observer around 1987 or thereabouts trying to promote the use of ebonics in teaching grade school.
It stays in my memory for the unintentionally comic quote by a student who said he needed ebonics to be used so he could learn. He said, “Time I fine out what she talkin bout, she be done flonk me.”
It’s OK, Grog. I ain’t here to be understood, I’m here to understand, as Il Povorollo prayed….well, and to entertain myself.
Greetings,
I was at University working towards my degree in Secondary Education during the great ebonics debate. My area of interest were the Social Sciences and upon graduation I’d be able to instruct in such topics as History, Government and Psychology. Fun stuff.
Now, I could clearly make the connection that the ideas being pushed by my professors in education were in direct conflict with what I was learning in my history classes and my psychology classes. I would lecture my education professors in fruitless attempts to point out that allowing people to speak their gibberish would condemn them to eternal poverty. I pointed out that a shared common language is what holds a nation-state together but to no avail. These jug-heads were convinced that forcing these people to give up their baby-talk would hurt their self esteem and that we, the educators, needed to do everything in our power to accommodate these gibberish speaking dullards.
I was not meek about any of this. I would interrupt during lectures and demand some kind of proof to support these wild theories. If not satisfied, I would follow the professor back to his or her office and continue arguing there as well. Not once did I experience anything but wild collectivist arguments from these clowns.
Ed,
you are good guy and a smartie.
I wonder you much Kimmel paid the Clinton foundation for her guest appearance.
Ed,
Understood.
I ain’t yo enemy.
I know it, Grog. I ain’t yours either.