March has never been kind to dynasties. And so my boys, thank you for your hard work and better luck next time. And please take better care of the ball next season. The weather's turned nasty outside and so has my mood. So let’s roll out some Rusty Spoons!
This week’s first Rusty Spoon (oh yeah, we’re going multiple here) is the OED. I realize that language, much like history, is a living thing, a hairy pink blob that threatens to engulf foreign language speakers everywhere. The outerlying extraneous bits will crust up and fall off to die the Shakespearean death while new words are assimilated and digested elsewhere. This happens, I know. But until now I’ve thought that this was the province of graduate students and professors looking for tenure everywhere. But now fake news commentators and computer geeks have that power! Gah. I’m going to have to punch some deck and try to hack the Gibson to keep up. An extra Rusty Spoon to one Dr. Coles, who decided to whip out “subalternity” during an 8:00am, 4-person political theory class. I don’t know, Dr. Coles, what is the erotic?
Our next Rusty Spoon goes to Brutus. Shove that up your stoic pride, you easily manipulated traitor!
Our final Rusty Spoon is hereby awarded to prognosticating rodents and their Inner Circle. It's been six weeks, Phil — where the fudge is my spring!?