Once upon a time there was a silly little weg that thought everything it created could be organized into nine simple categories. However, as time passed, the weg came to realize that not every category was as useful as it had once imagined. For example, devoting an entire category to the topic of “Currant Events”—i.e., noteworthy happenings involving small, seedless raisins—seemed like a hilarious idea upon conception. My, a whole series of entries about a not-widely-consumed fruit whose proper name sounds quite similar to another word frequently used in news-related contexts! HaHAHAHA! was the overjoyed reaction it imagined from its (still) imaginary audience. But five months and a single currant event later and the one joke wonder was not so wonderful anymore. It had to go.
Rivaling the inutility of “Currant Events” was the widely adored and mostly ignored “Tumorous.” Begun with noble intentions—to shield fragile grandmothers and parents of girlfriends from ribald innuendo and bawdy metaphor that might prove awkward at later dates—Tumorous was quickly rendered moot after our wizened (but not wiser) weg was forced to acknowledge the ubiquity of inappropriateness within its hallowed halls. With almost every rant, roast, and repartee containing at least one sentiment easily capable of offending both of the above parties, any attempt to actively banish the culpable prose would preempt the weg’s own reason for existence. Furthermore, as a vocal opponent of both censorship and Sense-o-Strip,1 it was hypocritical of the weg to decide what certain individuals could and could not read. Those who took issue with any of the featured content would simply have to take it upon themselves to suspend the reading process and move on to more palatable material, like the Baby Sitters Club. Consequently, those actively electing to muddle through the literary impertinence despite their flimsy psyches would now bear the responsibility of never looking our poor weg in the eye again.
Of course, in order for the world to remain in synch, and for internal body temperature to continue regulating itself at approximately 98 degrees (give or take 0.6 degrees), and for those rough and tumble boys on the back streets to stop rumbling with that block full of new kids, balance had to be achieved. And that is why, when the brave little weg elected to euthanize both Currant Events and Tumorous in a single swoop, it knew it must also artificially inseminate a new category. As such, Write in the Kisser is not ashamed2 to bring you the world premiere of “Word to Your Mother”—a category devoted specifically to those posts dealing with the ever fascinating subject of words, language, and wordy language.
Yes, it’s a strange new world you enter today, but thanks to one wee weg, that strangeness will be fractionally less chaotic than it was before. And for that we can all be thankful. (And crampy, though maybe that’s just me.)
1. The new virtual reality lap dance game from Has-bra®.
2. Though not quite proud, either.