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Real Men/Women of Genius #75

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  • The Troubadour
    Bud Light presents... REAL MEN OF GENIUS {Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss} Today we salute you, Mr. Enterprising Young Silk Screener and T-Shirt Maker Who Can t
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 17, 2010
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      Bud Light presents...


      {Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss}

      Today we salute you, Mr. Enterprising Young Silk Screener and T-Shirt Maker
      Who Can't Spell.

      {Mis-ter "it cerrrrrrrr-tain-ly LOOKED-like-that on the

      "Graitful Dead"? "Pottle Morerain"? "Runing is a fart form"? And how
      about that nice ultra quotation emblazoned across the back authored by a
      "Hazardus Lake"? Oh Em Gee.

      {Weee bet yourrrrrrrrrrrrr home-work won ALLLLL the gold stars in
      grammmm-mar school!}

      Puh-lease. Is there no dictionary in the shop? Would you think it *might*
      make some sense to consult one before rolling off your initial manufacturing
      run of two thousand pressings?

      {It jusssssssssst bogggg-ggggles the mind!!}

      Even a Google search might help. Anything to avoid the totally disbelieving
      look upon some race director's face when he next comes in and you proudly
      show off your handiwork. Now if only some makeup artist could capture
      *your* color at that same moment, you could become the next "star" of a
      grade B slasher/horror flick.

      {"Whaaaaaaaaaaat do you meeeeeeeean that word has TWO u's innnnnnnnnn it??"}

      It's really not difficult at all, for example, to check your work before
      casting it in stone. Imagine Thomas Jefferson scrawling "In Kongress A
      Decklarashun of Inn Depend Dance" atop a now very well preserved document
      from 1776, or the top of the Supreme Court building being carved, for all
      eternity, with the words: "Equil Just Ice Onder Law."

      {Ohhhhhhhhhhhh Emmmmmmmmmmmmmm Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!}

      In a different century, you could actually have your head and wrists locked
      in stocks at the village square for such brilliance. But today of course,
      in this 21st century of "it's not my fault" and "somebody else will take
      care of me," you just know your butt will be covered.

      {"It allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

      So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light after those first few thousand shirts
      are printed, O Merriam Webster of the tie-dye biz, because you are indeed
      and in fact going to sell at least one freshly made T-shirt after all--to
      your mother.

      {Misssssssssss-ter En-ter-pri-sing Young Silk Screeeeeeee-ner and T-Shirt
      Ma-ker Who Cannnnnn't Spell!}

      Bud Light beer: we don't care where they brew it; we just dig their

      ( O_O )

      Yours troubly,

      Rich Limacher
      "that 800-year-old completely-non-electronically-spellchecked lute plucker
      from France"
      (now on tab at http://www.runrace.net/)

      Yankee Folly of the Day:
      Don't worry, the epidemic is legion. The superintendent of our local school
      board writes like a troglodyte. The teachers' bulletin board inside my
      bride's grade school has more errors per square inch than our reconstructed
      back porch after the tornado. So, we are thus reminded of Murphy's Law of
      Computing: "If builders built buildings like programmers write programs, the
      first woodpecker to come along would destroy civilization."
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