(no subject)

It has lately been brought to my attention that gleeful snickery is immature. Clever puns were suggested as a medium more suited to a sober, adult audience. (Thing is, I am not good at clever puns. I'm very, very good at leer and innuendo, but those are juvenile and uninteresting and nobody laughs at the jokes, with the exception of brother-the-younger, who is a charitable sort.) Therefore, today's posting is not about restoration-era pornographic poetry. The joy got right the hell sucked out of that via the aforementioned revelation. (I'm not even in the mood to make the joke about sucking the joy out.) It's not about syphilis, either. It's not got anything at all to do with plums.

( Is there anything left to talk about? )