Goodness! I briefly depart for a vacation in environs on the Continent, and all restraint is abandoned in my absence. Happily I purchased a cushion in Tours which is ideal for occassions such as this… let me just place it… so! Very good.

Your brilliant suggestions, like most such, will sadly come to nothing.

I see. I had thought the gentleman was simply obtuse, and repeatedly made observation as though it had only just occurred to him, but in fact he attempted, through sarcasm, to emulate a profoundly uninspired comedic style much like that of which he was so critical. It all makes perfect sense.

Practically everyone I know has a handbasket, thank you very much. I used one today to carry my dog, Charlemagne, down to the park. He does cough from the soot, and his eyes weep copiously, but still I am certain that he enjoys his excercise, lurching about until collapsing in a state of exhaustion.

Dear Mr. SarCCastro, you are making me blush… which is hazardous, for this tends to make me somewhat dizzy… oh, porridge!

Absolutely the finest variety of dwarf!

My father often observed, "Never suffer insolence from an Irishman." His 'flailing' was therefore often accomplished with a cudgel in hand, and directed towards a scion of the Emerald Isle. Of course, he was something of a tyrannical brute.

When I was a child I lived in terror of my father's pack of slavering wolf-hounds, which he left at liberty to patrol the estate at night. Often I was lulled to sleep by the sounds of the awful brutes savaging a bone between them or growling menacingly just outside my window. I was also similarly troubled by my…

Of the Rutherford-by-the-bend Bumsteads?

'A movie that met the exacting cinematic standards of Nicholas Cage by only a narrow margin… Tresspass!'

For goodness sake! Fire! It was burned with fire! What else could it possibly be?

There there.

Certainly the performer who so eloquently depicted the struggles of the villain turned pugilist 'Cutty' would be ideal for the role. Were women allowed a vote, that would be mine.

Good of you to offer, but no thank you.

There is the friendliest Jewish cobbler who can often be found peddling his wares from a charming cart down on Privet Street. Though I have of course never purchased anything at all from him, his manners are very gracious. Based on this acquaintance, I am forced to take a dim view of anti-Semitism. Would you rather…

Oh, how gay! Do allow me an attempt or two.

I would only add that actors of quality would also be a requirement, which raises a subject dear to any who peruse this electro-communicative medium; should the choice be yours, what thespians would you select to depict the various characters in Mr. Busiek's sprawling narrative?

This, then, is what happens when theatrical productions are assigned a gender. Am I right to suppose that the entirety of the genres which remain are intended for the consumption of men?

Often such efforts fly wide of the mark and an unfortunate man is also made victim. Do not trust in your gender alone to save you, sir.

Why do Americans hunger so for intolerably rude Englishmen and women to heap abuse upon them? Is it some guilt born of seperation from the mother country that leads the heart to desire abusive correction? A hidden desire for discipline and heirarchy, normally precluded from Democracy?
Dear Americans! Do not demean…