An apology to dopers who…

…contributed in good faith to this thread: http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?t=763528&highlight=dangerous

As I mentioned there, it was not written by me. It was the work of what in earlier times would be called ‘a doddering old fool.’ Namely, the Right Reverend, Doctor Priest Preacher Tirade – Deceased, En Croute, etc. His first name is Nigel. And that may explain a lot.

Most, if not all, of his honorifics are self-bestowed. His personal history might shed a more kindly light on that than those of us who have housed him might grant; but he is still a looney.

He was born on March 25, 1925 – and when I say ‘born’ I mean found in a grove of orange trees in the San Fernando Valley, California.

He comes from a long line of foundlings, most of whom were not so much ‘found’ as ‘stumbled upon’.

This embarrassing lineage drove him to set his sights high and strive for something more. Something much, much more.

When Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941 – Nigel, then only 16, – did what only a few others dared to do – he scarpered to Jamaica and became one of the first white Rastafarians.

Over the next 25 years he cultivated his dreadlocks, smoked uncountable pounds of reefer, sired untold numbers of children, and generally avoided any responsibility whatsoever.

In 1973, in the original liner notes (later deleted) of the album ‘Goat’s Head Soup’ Mick Jagger called him ‘daddy.’ To this day Jagger vehemently denies this, saying only “Nigel? That tosser?!”

The following three decades are a mish-mosh of rumour and second-hand tales that include bent poker in Shangai, fixed yo-yo competitions in Tokyo, and non-kosher hot dog swallowing events at Coney Island.

Not exactly the kind of behavior you would expect from a ‘Right Reverend’, is it?

So when he showed up on our doorstep in 2004, bedraggled and worn to the bone, we were of course hesitant to allow him entrance. I was all for giving him the boot, and good riddance. But my wife, large soul that she is, reminded me that dear uncle Nigel, mad as he may be, is still in charge of the Tirade fortune.

Accordingly, we made him comfortable in the attic from which he escaped and posted on this board.

Again, I apologize for uncle Tirade’s trespass into this forum.

A.J. Blitz

I don’t know which is worse–that he posted that twisted, mostly non-sensical verbiage, or that I had almost no trouble following it. And was amused, even. Exit, stage left.

Whatever that original post was, it was a piece of art. This one is entertaining but, you know. It’s hard to top “risible” instead of “reasonable” right in the first sentence.

I posted in that thread, good faith or not I don’t know, and you sure don’t have to apologize to me. I find Nigel’s writing style to be a breath of fresh air, and will probably read whatever you-strike that- Nigel writes, with no regard for understanding. It is good.

What.

So, Alonzo – you would strake at mercies even now!

How shaper is a sherpa’s tongue! Zut and alors!

No fear! For I have befuddled most and a bower of cabbage leafs and electrolytes make my laptop now!

Young pup, give up! Nettle me, a next I rest… is that me I see? Ho-Ho!

With full regards,

The Right Reverend, Doctor Priest Preacher Tirade - Embedded

Dafuck is going on?

Why are you badmouthing cabbage?

Uncle Tirade, come down from the tree! We all see you. You’re not fooling anyone. Come down… we’ll put fleece on the cuffs… just like you want…

I have to compliment the OP for being at least twice as comprehensible as James Joyce. That’s two times zero, so …

Oh Alonzo, mufti carrion?

This is not a tree in which I sit - it is a minuet - bulbous fractions I espy! All the potter pans fly by - gracious in their trinity!

Submitted for your disproval,

The Right Reverend, Doctor Priest Preacher Tirade - Candle Mangler

How the hell is this guy getting Wi-fi? Mine barely works across the dining room!

I’m pretty sure tin foil is used in some manner.

There’s a fine line between interesting, quirky personality and one-tricky-pony gimmick.

Oh, Cripes, it’s trini-TIE isn’t it? Like Cartman would say it? So it rhymes with “espy” and “fly by”?

Hell, I gotta get outta here! Crap! Spellcheck says “gotta” is spelled correctly, but “outta” isn’t–where’s my epi-pen?

The San Fernando Valley’s agricultural output has always tended more toward olives than citrus.

And how difficult is it to change your password? Can it even be done from one computer while another computer is on line?

Maybe change it to WHOOSH

It’s bad enough when Blake does it!

I am enjoying these threads.

Ah, Smeghead – one-trekky pawnee I? Alack! Alas! Alaska! Two are mine in random tandem espadrilles! Clad-hoping Maryanne all wrong.

And if that numinous wore but none, a kingpin would I slay for one! A hearse, a hearse! My kinsman for a hearse!

From this overweening lamb I decry the scatterlings chittering and misaiming tar telephony!

Mush roast now, overblasting explanation poonts.

Yours in the Lard,

The Right Reverend, Doctor Priest Preacher Tirade - Dyspeptic