“I guarantee you,” Professor Plum said as he entered the mail room, “that somewhere in Blogistan … something happened.”
He read the mail…. (More)
He then left with Ms. Scarlet to join the resident faculty in the
wine cellar library, where they’ll spend the weekend drinking thinking on our motto of Magis vinum, magis verum (“More wine, more truth”).
In the staff poker game, the
Professor of Astrology Janitor would have guaranteed that someone had a better hand than his three Tens. The Squirrel opened the pot with a raise, and the Professor of Astrology Janitor called with the Tens of Hearts and Clubs. Chef called also, making it a three-way pot.
The flop brought the Ace and Ten of Spades, and the Jack of Diamonds. The
Professor of Astrology Janitor and Chef checked, and the Squirrel put in a pot-sized bet. The Professor of Astrology Janitor added a pot-sized raise, hoping to take the pot immediately with his three Tens, but Chef and the Squirrel both called.
The Queen of Hearts fell on the turn, giving any King an Ace-high straight. The
Professor of Astrology Janitor checked, and both Chef and the Squirrel checked behind.
The Seven of Spades on the river added a possible flush to the mix, so again the
Professor of Astrology Janitor checked. Chef put in a teaser bet and, after thinking for a moment, the Squirrel called. The Professor of Astrology Janitor was pretty sure one of them had him beaten. In fact, it seemed likely that one had the straight and the other had the flush. So despite the 10:1 pot odds, he folded.
Chef turned over the Ace and Seven of Clubs. The Squirrel gave a happy tail-flick as he showed his Ace and Queen of Diamonds. He looked at the
Professor of Astrology Janitor and tapped on his Blewberry: “Let me guess. You were sure one of us had the flush, and folded a King.”
Professor of Astrology Janitor said. “But I folded a pair of Tens.”
He began his plaintive mewling and Chef went to the kitchen to make a Kentucky Scramble, leaving your lowly mail room clerk to review the week’s correspondence….
Dear Ms. Crissie,
I guarantee you somewhere in Kentucky today, a child was sexually assaulted that was left at home because there was nobody there to watch them. I guarantee you somewhere today, a child was physically harmed or ingested poison because they were left alone because a single parent didn’t have any money to take care of them.
Teachers went on strike Friday to protest a budget cut. And children were harmed – some physically, some sexually, some were introduced to drugs for the first time – because they were vulnerable and left alone.
Matt in KY
We suppose we must commend your capacity for waving the bloody shirt, and with an example that is probably just as fictitious as the incident from which that phrase derives. We note that not a single witness present in the U.S. Senate that day said that Benjamin Butler waved a shirt – bloody or otherwise – during his famous speech criticizing Ku Klux Klan brutality. Equally, you have not a shred of evidence that even a single Kentucky student was harmed by the one-day teachers’ strike. But lies are often stickier than facts. And just as “bloody shirt” myth mongers still demand that fact-checkers prove Butler did not wave a shirt, you will doubtless demand that fact-checkers prove the horrific events you “guaranteed” did not happen.
We conclude that you have adopted the all-too-common wingnut tactic, epitomized but hardly invented by the God-King, of making an outrageous claim and then insisting it is true unless it is proven false … and often standing by it even then.
Dear Ms. Crissie,
I guarantee you that, somewhere in Blogistan, someone will ask for Chef’s Kentucky Scramble recipe. Like me, for example.
Guaranteeing Breakfast in Blogistan
And we can guarantee that Chef used the Kentucky Breakfast Scramble recipe below, which includes corn, green peppers, onion, parsley, pimento, and bacon. Bon appétit!
Photo Credit: Louisville Courier-Journal