INTELLIGENCE, Article III

Have I plateaued the mountainous peak that is the intellect of the average scoundrel aged a decade or more? Again, this purveyor of choice anecdotes stands proudly before his peers, trembling with the anticipation of a gazelle that senses the hunting prowess of the lioness. Oh, to be a giraffe!

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Ha ha! Ha HA, I say! Now we are arriving at a metaphorical ship-christening. Might we assuage the ruffian who, in such a myopic approach to seeking enlightenment, hath instead mistaken a sesquipedalean for an intellectual?



To cement my intellectual standing among junior high school students, the purveyors of pubescent exhilaration (Farrahus Fawcettus Oglus Erectus), I offer the foolproof: insights, new perspectives, remembrances of civilizations past and present, the very philosophies of life that propel us like so many seagulls into so many aeroplane engines at the airport JFK: this knowledge is yours:

Corporate Rock STILL sucks.

Finally, a churlish non-sequitur: I am drawn quite fondly to the machinations of troubadours who engage in superficial deconstructions of the humour of and or pertaining to flatulence.