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View Diary: Dear Mr. President (339 comments)

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  •  Now see, that was uncalled for (6+ / 0-)

    You already responded originally to that post, and you were quite civil.  Now you're descending into gutter talk.

    Anyway, I re-read your original post, and I couldn't find anything in it about a damn (or damned) dog.

    I ran your post through the dialectizer.  Here's what you said, according to the Swedish Chef:

    Pleese-a stert ideeting thees sheet doon, ookey?

    Hooefer guud, hooefer vurthy. Bork bork bork!

    Iff I vunt tu reed a demn buuk I'll gu veet Merteen Emees. Um gesh dee bork, bork! Oor meybe-a ifee ierly Juyce-a.

    Guud greeeff.

    That didn't work, so I tried Redneck, but it faild to let the dog out:

    Please start editin' this hyar shit down, okay?

    Howevah fine, howevah wo'thy.

    Eff'n ah's hankerin' t'read a dadburn book I'll hoof it wif Martin Amis. Or mebbe even early Joyce.

    Good grief.

    I finally had some mammalian success with Elmer Fudd.  I uncovered a rabbit (or actually, a "wabbit"):

    Pwease stawt editing this shit down, okay?

    Howevew good, howevew wowthy.

    If I want to wead a damn book I'ww go wif Mawtin Amis. Oh, dat scwewy wabbit! Ow maybe even eawwy Joyce.

    Good gwief.

    I figure a rabbit is close enough.  Sometimes when the mechanical rabbit is racing just ahead of a greyhound, you pretty much can't tell one from the other anyway, and the money is good either way - even if the wabbit weally wins.

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