AH, ETYMOLOGY!

Who determines that a table should be a table?

Who was the first person to call a mug a mug? And why? How does mug mean something from which one can drink muddy java, yet also mean to waylay and assault with an intent to rob? Additionally, why does mug mean, informally, the human face or a grimace? Why is this thing upon which these little black "letters" march known to many as a monitor? At what point in time did someone say, "Let's not call this glass-thing a glass-thing. Let's, instead, call it a monitor." Don't you think that they would have originally gotten confused? For instance, don't you think that, in the early days of Monitordom, Sam in Accounting would ask, his brow furrowed, "Elliot, do you mean monitor as a verb or monitor as a noun?" And don't you think that Elliot (what the hell is the origin of that name, by the way) would snap back, somewhat heatedly, "Sam, you dumb poll-scratcher, haven't you ever heard of context?" And don't you think that Sam, through no fault of his own, of course, would answer, "Context? Is that the negative text? Or is that just a new automobile from that island near Asia?"

Salient questions, all. It makes you think, I think. It makes you think of just how much we, as human beans, take for granted.

We think, therefore it is.

For the most part (and I say this with a wink) I think that babies are bunched-up looking beets, all megalomaniacal and needy. They can't walk, they can't catch a Frisbee--hell, they can't even tie their shoes. To make matters worse, they don't even know what a fucking shoe is. For all they know, a shoe could be a tall building or something that you "climb into" and tell the "driver" to "take me to Fifth and Hench." But, yeah, guess I have a grudging respect for the "me"nions in that they soak up this shit like a Brawny paper towel soaking up a spill from a mug of java. Huh? How is that possible? What the hell did I just say? Did I just oh!pine! that little red beets absorb defecation as if they were multi-layered sheets of super-thin would absorbing a disaster from a grimace of an island of Indonesia seperated from Borneo by the Java Sea, an appendage of the Pacific? Passed, the Excedrin. It's morphine-drip thyme.

Can ewe imagine trying to learn this shit anew? Who knew? Exactly. Who knew is not anew, though they are the same amount of syllables and sound alike and are seperated by a mere four "letters." Who the hell determined that this--"k"--is a letter, surrounded by marx of quotation? Was it the Phoenicians? Were they the bastards? Was it the ancient Greeks, after they pulled out of a little boy long enough to get down to brass tax? Tax? Or tacks? Argh!

Who the hell says that a circle is a circle? And why the hell is a square a square? I can--almost--understand why a triangle is a triangle (it has three angles) but how, by the dosey-doe of a couple of "letters," can we go from Geometry to Metaphysics? Angles are angels and cherubs sound like spareribs. But! Have you ever heard pork ribs with most of the meat trimmed off talk? Not me. I haven't. Nor have I heard them sing, like cherubs might. While I'm discussing this, how--eggsactly--does Peugot sound?

Puck this. I'm off to drink a sprite. Mischeivously.