Osler's Razor

Listen,Osler--you are starting to resemble that no account varmint Geoffrey,who is a disgrace to all True Mustangs. The guy promises the world and delivers nada (I am tri-lingual)! Where in the Sam Hill is my bio,Buddy! I can give you all the bio you need for That Sharkskin Lothario,Geoffrey,by the way. Sign me:Hot under the frock about this.
 

Well then... I would love to get a bio for Mr. Geoffrey!
 

Not so tricky,Osler. You're the bio guy. Of course,I could give you the real facts,but it is for your own good that I challenge you to delve into the recesses of your lawyerly and literature-driven noggin. I will say that he is not what he pretends to be...an intellectual. Remember DANCING WITH WOLVES? Geoffrey was found by several pieces of wild horseflesh who graced the plains of Wyoming as a toddler. Yes,this,dare I use the word,"man"? was raised by Mustangs...which explains his atrocious table manners. He fell out of the car on a road trip with his human parents. Finally,the horses,disgusted by the perennial bit of alfalfa that hung from his front teeth posted a notice in the Cheney Gazette that he had been found and his human parents came to fetch him posthaste...which they later lamented. To remedy this lack of judgment and to hopefully achieve some modicum of couth, they sent him to Harvard,where he earned a reputation for embarrassing coeds and wearing pony leather dungarees.He whinnied at attractive women and picked up a degree in Pidgin French. He is now a law student at St.Thomas,and is hoping they don't notice his absolute disregard for all that is beautiful in the law. He prefers Catholic women. I don't know who in the Sam Hill admitted him. Years ago,in a spasm of maternal instinct,noticing that he now had broccoli in his teeth,I befriended him. I liked the feel,eventually,of his muzzle on my neck,though I despised his horsey body odor and could not persuade him to disguise it with Mitchum's.And then he started whinnying at too many other fillies,also with broccoli in their teeth and I had had it and gave him the heave ho. He is currently penning (and I do mean that literally) a treatise on Mustang Law: Horses Unfairly Held Interminably in Corrals Without Parole. I could care less. Don't even ask me about his napkin fetish. The guy is a kook. I've got bigger and better fish to fry in my pan.
 

Sally--I am not ashamed of my equine upbringing...only the human one! Mercy is what the law ought to provide,and you have no mercy for breaches of etiquette by sincere vegetarians,who happen to enjoy the feel of Irish linen napkins.How is this hurting anyone? You have brushed my horsehair the wrong way this time,Baby! If I were not also a pacifist,I would tie you down and insert broccoli between your pearly ecru's. As for my redolent neck...many fillies more cultured than thou have found Eau de Moustange provocative. So there and twice on Sundays!!! To paraphrase Richard E.Nixon:"I am not a kook." And to paraphrase RRL: "Stick that in your baguette and smoke it!!"
 

If I may I interject with a fragrance suggestion...though a little pricey I'm sure Insolence Eau de Parfum by Guerlain would compliment Sally famously.
 

Marta...say what are you doing Friday night...what do you say I put my pony pants on and we go out dancing! But I digest...this could be the cause of my turbulent relationship with Sally. One night I needed a birthday gift for her.I stopped at the Walgreens and picked up a bottle of Brut instead of the Burberry Brit she usually wants. What could I do? The store was closing and it was time for our midnight rondayview? She poured it over my head. You have keyed upon it...it is her insolence that I most desire...God help me! A lesson I learned on the plains of Wyoming,from the proprietor of The Cheney Gazette.
 

Geoffrey, what a pity I have plans Friday night, it looks like we have a lot more in common than I thought. Instead I’m having a date with a pretentious ass who speaks pompous. Quite honestly I have no idea what attracts me to the kind…like you say, God help me! I have to say though I’m intrigued by your simple ways…simple is after all is the height of sophistication and not just anyone can pull it off. Well, unless you’re a true troglodyte, then I’m afraid it’s hopeless. You see, I like to amuse myself by pretending to be pretentious and speak pompous and a true troglodyte may not be able to play along (even though the speaking pompous is more for the people who equate my accent with some measure of illiteracy in English; that and speaking loud and patronizing which vexes me to the point I can become violent). Anyway…perhaps another time Geoffrey!
 

Marta,Marta,Marta! How I pine inconsolabley to see at last your beautiful veesige (that's French,Marta,for face.I will bring the roses of passion to ze door.And sweep you off of my feet,in my strong masculine equine way! I am not pretentious or a troglodyte. My mane is glossy and groomed with Pantene. Pleeeeeeeeeeze. Leebchin,I long for you. I enjoy foreighn women. I will just listen to you. What if I forego my pony pants for khakis? I will be a perfect gentleman,I think. Love,Geoffrey
 

Oh Geoffrey! you sound quite the Renaissance man and that is something I love with wild abandon. But hold your horses (pun not intended)…what about Sally?!?!? In the terribly unfortunate case something is taken I’m afraid I have to tell you I don’t want it even if I want it.
PS You blew me away with the rose thing and of course, your fine German.
Yours, Marta
 

Sally and I are,in your language,kapoot! Really how can a man put up with her shennnanniganns (Gaylick,Marta),Really. She has the nerve to accuse me of causing the tragic closing of Pierre's Bistro. Well! I dint wanna go to that place to begin with. I just wanted a doggone hamburger,even though some of my best friends are cows. Can't a man have just a plain hamburger (German)in peace once in a while without his girlfriend going all snooty on him? !Sheesh! Yeah I am fond of my napkins....so what! At least I don't wear heels so high my woman has to wear stilts to kiss me. Pierre's was o.k.,but they sniff if you don't have reservations,and I got things to do. If there was mould on that moose,I didn't create it. I am not God,I think. Then I suggested a carriage ride in downtown Minneapolis,and when the horse started to pant,Sally suggested I get out and help him. This chick takes the cake,Marta. Can you make moaning strudel? I love that stuff. How do you feel about pony pants? A true gentleman,Geoffrey.
 

I don’t know what to say Geoffrey, this thing with Sally sounds too complicated. I like things simple. Anyway, since you asked…I can make moaning, I can’t make strudel and I don’t know what pony pants are, where I’m from they don’t have them. Yours, Marta
 

No,wait! Marta! I swear! I swear upon the grave of Ma Mare (French),it is over between Sally and me,despite her transendant luminous insolince.And her elongated equine face! She has hurt me too badly,I am a figmant of my former self. What if I agree to see a therapist for my serviette issues. You know,like Thoreau,"Therapize,therapize,therapize." Marta,we all have issues. Even an elegant and accomplished woman such as yourself needs a little t.l.c. sometimes,I venture to say. We can buy strudel,and I will eat it from the shells of your ears...or the curve of your knee.Recansider,Marta! With any luck you will not have to find out what pony pants are! Marta...I implore you!
 

Hey Geoffrey, glad to see you're trying to mend things with Sally! Looks like you guys are the best for each other.