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“You’re not allowed to call them dinosaurs any more,” said Yo-less. “It’s speciesist. You have to call them pre-petroleum persons.”

The sun was shining when I woke up. Since then the clouds have taken over and the day is dark. I turned off the AC to get some air, but the house has gotten hot quickly. Even poor Henry is panting. The forecast is maybe Rain today and tomorrow. Tonight we hope to do movie night so I want the rain to hold off until tomorrow, but I do want rain.

Around 2:30 Henry started barking. He kept it up for a while so he did hear something. I turned on my bedroom light and started to get up to investigate, but he stopped so I went back to sleep. I figure his fierce barking is a wonderful deterrent to anyone contemplating thievery.

The tempo of life and marching to a different drummer make living sound musical. Kicked the bucket and bought the farm give death an agricultural bent. In between the living and the dying are euphemisms gone crazy. My friend occasionally drops sugar honey ice tea into the conversation. These are not drink choices, and the first letter of each word will give you a better idea of her mood. My thought here is if you’re agitated enough, drop the drink options. A spot of profanity is good for the soul. I noticed that people don’t go to the Bathroom any more. This is not a medical crisis. It’s just that they now go to the powder room, the restroom or the head even though women no longer use powder, nobody rests in a restroom, and unless you’re in the military, there is no head, so to speak. I won’t even describe my reactions to the use of little girls’ or boys’ room. Why does the use of the bathroom need a euphemism or two or more? We all have to go so we should just tell it like it is: I’m going to the bathroom. Nope, not difficult at all.

Now we all need to keep in mind the following just in case. You don’t throw up when on a plane: you have motion discomfort. I am not going to the dump today but rather to the Sanitary landfill; however, the last word I would ever use in reference to trash is sanitary. Janitors, trashmen and bartenders no longer exist. They have been reborn as custodians, sanitary engineers and mixologists.

I end with the best one of all. In Dr. Seuss’ Halloween TV special is Grinch Night when young Euchariah Who finds himself in need of “the euphamism” and must venture out of doors. What does the poor boy need? He needs the Whoville outhouse, the necessary, the privy, the little house! How wonderful!



This post first appeared on Keep The Coffee Coming, please read the originial post: here

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“You’re not allowed to call them dinosaurs any more,” said Yo-less. “It’s speciesist. You have to call them pre-petroleum persons.”

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