Real Men/Women of Genius #75

Bud Light presents…

REAL MEN OF GENIUS

{Re-al men of geeeeeene-yuss}

Today we salute you, Mr. Enterprising Young Silk Screener and T-Shirt Maker Who Can’t Spell.

{Mis-ter “it cerrrrrrrr-tain-ly LOOKED-like-that on the Innnnnn-terrrrrr-net”!}

“Graitful Dead”? “Pottle Morerain”? “Runing is a fart form”? And how about that nice ultra quotation emblazoned across the back authored by a “Hazardus Lake”? Oh Em Gee.

{Weee bet yourrrrrrrrrrrrr home-work won ALLLLL the gold stars in grammmm-mar school!}

Puh-lease. Is there no dictionary in the shop? Would you think it *might* make some sense to consult one before rolling off your initial manufacturing run of two thousand pressings?

{It jusssssssssst bogggg-ggggles the mind!!}

Even a Google search might help. Anything to avoid the totally disbelieving look upon some race director’s face when he or she next comes in and you proudly show off your handiwork. If only some makeup artist could capture *your* color at that same moment, you could become the next “star” of a grade B slasher/horror flick.

{“Whaaaaaaaaaaat do you meeeeeeeean that word has TWO u’s innnnnnnnnn it??”}

It’s really not difficult at all, for example, to check your work before casting it in stone. Imagine Thomas Jefferson scrawling “In Kongress A Decklarashun of Inn Depend Dance” atop a now very well preserved document from 1776, or the top of the Supreme Court building being carved, for all eternity, with the words: “Equil Just Ice Onder Law.”

{Ohhhhhhhhhhhh Emmmmmmmmmmmmmm Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!}

In a different century, you could actually have your head and wrists locked in stocks at the village square for such brilliance. But today of course, in this 21st century of “it’s not my fault” and “somebody else will take care of me,” you just know your butt will be covered.

{“It allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll works-out-innnnnnn-thee-end!”}

So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light after those first few thousand shirts are printed, O Merriam Webster of the tie-dye biz, because you are indeed and in fact going to sell at least one freshly made T-shirt after all–to your mother.

{Misssssssssss-ter En-ter-pri-sing Young Silk Screeeeeeee-ner and T-Shirt Ma-ker Who Cannnnnn’t Spell!}

Bud Light beer: we don’t care where they brew it; we just dig their commercials.

( O_O )

Yours troubly,
The Troubadour

Yankee Folly of the Day:
Don’t worry, the epidemic is legion. The superintendent of our local school board writes like a troglodyte. The teachers’ bulletin board inside my bride’s grade school has more errors per square inch than our reconstructed back porch after the tornado. So, we are thus reminded of Murphy’s Law of Computing: “If builders built buildings like programmers write programs, the first woodpecker to come along would destroy civilization.”