Like that ol' hackneyed title ain't been used too much here lately. Actually, that is likely the ver' first time I have used it in connection with the various versions and revisions of this blog, 'cause I work hard not to repeat titles. I must exclude from such claim, however, those regular features: Nuggets & Gems, Friday Jokes Funny™, and Eye on Opus™ - which use the day's date for a title, so that havin' two such features 'pearin' in the same day might cause the duplication of a title, and those former features: Rusty Rides Again™ and Wicked Willie™ were episode numbered, and would thereby duplicated.
In the vein of title creation, itself, I sometimes title the post prior to creation and sometimes afterward. I am often clueless when the appointed time for givin' the report draws near. Even on some of my most creative days, the daily wind down often has sapped the last few dregs of creativity from my soul so that I can barely deliver base drivel. On those occasions, I usually find myself of wringin' some ol' title from the report. It is a hard job, ya know, but somebody has to do it.
There are occasions that I am extremely impressed both with the titlin' and with the resultant report. Here are three recent reports in which I felt my creativity shined: Sorry I'm late, but I got sideswiped by a zinger, Ever'thin' I know 'bout Australia I learned while watchin' Kangaroo Jack, and last night's entry, Regurgitated mish-mash from Brain Cell XC-27. In each of those cases, the title jes' popped into mind, and the prose jes' miraculously followed. All you creative people know, sometimes it jes' flows.
It sure is cold and my navel is sorely clamorin' for the warmth that lies below two layers of goose down. In this instant, as you can easily detect, the titlin' of this post befits the temperature of the night. It has very little to do with the actual content of this post. There ain't no set rule 'bout these things.
Read My Lips is an improvisational blog and these Nightly Navel Gazin' Reports™ are 'bout as improvisational as things 'round these parts can get. Me, all I can think of at this moment is how to improvise my way into bed. Ya'll comprende? I guess Moona had difficulty postin'. Ya know, the best of intentions cannot overcome the difficulties of keyboardin' with bovine hooves. End of report.
Posted by Tiger at December 23, 2004 12:26 AM | TrackBackYa mean Moona is a cow? Nah. Too erudite for a cow. I used to know lots of cows (I grew up in the bush) and there aint no such cow as can type.
Posted by: Ozguru at December 28, 2004 11:16 PMGuess it was my turn to use big words :-)
Posted by: Ozguru at December 28, 2004 11:17 PMThat reminds me:
When promulgating your esoteric cogitations and articulating your amicable and philosophical observations beware of platitudinous ponderosity, and let your conversational communications possess a clarified conciseness and a compact comprehensibleness without coalescent consistency or a concatenated cogency.
Eschew all conglomerations of flatulent garrulity, jejune babblement and asinine affectations and let your extemporaneous descantings have a voracious vivacity without rodomontade sagacity.
Posted by: Ozguru at December 28, 2004 11:19 PMIn other words, speak briefly, say what you mean, mean what you say, and above all don't use big words.
Posted by: Ozguru at December 28, 2004 11:19 PM