Large Fierce Mammal

Read on, and no explanation will be necessary. (Source: https://maps.roadtrippers.com/stories/turd-war-someone-in-brooklyn-is-painting-all-the-dog-poop-gold)

As anyone who frequents this establishment will know, when it comes to determining the True meaning of any word or phrase, we exclusively turn to the Triumvirate of Linguistic Verisimilitude (TLV), to wit:

• The Oxford English Dictionary (OED);
• The Urban Dictionary; and although listed last by no means held in any less esteem,
• The Devil’s Dictionary.

With this in mind, I would point out that the bounteous harvest month of October fast approaches, and with it two recurring events, one significantly more important than the other.

The first — obviously the one of surpassing significance — comes annually in an ominous miasma of anticipation so visceral as to mimic the most primal of hungers in its victims readers, that being our annual smorgasbord named Dark Sentiments. By way of reminder to those it has scarred entertained in the past, and introduction for those unsuspecting yet-to-reads, its depths of depravity are encapsulated here:

If you seek for the harvest that’s fruitful and green,
You’re in the wrong place, and it’s not very clean.
If a bright, cheery Autumn’s the way you would lean,
Look not here, for these pickings are dark and obscene!

The second recurring event is a meagre effort that dreads its own recurrence, bringing nothing but false hopes, mendacity, and disappointment whenever it occurs. I speak, of course, of the Canadian federal election of the year 2019, set to reveal its outcomes on the 21st day of October.

This year sees the limping court of Trudeau the Younger, who still hasn’t accepted his election in 2015 as being far less about his personal quality than the fact that he wasn’t Stephen Harper, pitted against a cast of untested hopefuls. Whatever comes of it all, I would encourage you Goode Reader to not let any of it distract you from your Dark Sentiments revelries. And to those involved in the election beyond the customary casting of votes before pouring a libation over which to observe the train wreck that will inevitably ensue, I would offer this advice — and to whoever wins, don’t coiff me bro.

Nuggetry

By LFM

No matter how coiffed your forelock is,
Or how sincerely you tug it,
You can’t take a turd spray painted in gold,
And pass it off as a nugget.