That that is, is
Is defined on May 17, 2026.
Drat. Double drat. This month has five Sundays. But I only have four rats’ asses to give! Whatever shall I do?
I know! I’ll post the same blog entry twice. No one will notice. No one reads this blubbity-blubble anymore anyway! I’ll post the same blog entry twice.
Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.
I always wondered how many buffaloes could be crammed into a single sentence, and now I knew. And knowing is half the battle. (The other half was cramming all those buffaloes in!)
I also still wonder what it’s like to be a mouse. And, how many mice can fit on the head of a pin. And, how many pins can fit on the head of a mouse. I once watched a mouse eat a nut. It was the highlight of my week. Then I wanted to eat a nut. But I didn’t have any nuts—not even a single peanut. That made me sad. I started squeaking.
Mice are nice. Spiced mice are nicer.
Mice sleep in piles. Piles of other mice. I sleep in a bed. But a fish stabbed my pillows so I use my huzzey-muffet as a pillow now.
Mice eat their own turds, which is awful efficient of them. Why can’t we be efficient like that?
But I’m not a mouse. I am as loquacious as a duck emitting several low quacks! Quack, quack, quack!
That that is, is. That that is not, is not. Is that it? It is.