ye Gods

While reeling from my studies for the California Real Estate exam, I posted a hideous thing. I called B. Obama "Obamma." I'll bet Elmer Best, my old editing teacher, is rotating like a chicken on a rotisserie in his Lawrence, Kans. grave.
I reminded myself of an earlier day when I read Odgen Nash's "The one "l" lama, he's a priest. The two "l" lamma, he's a beast. But I will bet a silk pajama, that there is no three "l" lammma." The footnote was for a certain conflagration that brought out three fire trucks and was, indeed, a "three "l" lammma.
Well, I will bet a silk pajama, that there is no two "m" Obama. Doesn't scan, but rings true.
By the way, against all odds I passed the durn exam. Fortunately, I didn't have to spell anything. Just fill in a computer sheet with four answers, only two of them wrong. Choose one, indeed.
If I weren't so tough from years of Timeshare sales ( you want to get used to rejection? Try that.) I would be hurt that my old journalism school has produced a book on blogs that did not include alumna grandma Letty. They'd never pass the real estate exam.

Hey, Wait a Minute

Lately, Geraldine Ferraro is the latest staff member to be cast out because she is politically incorrect. For those of you living in a cave, she recently opined that B. Obamma is where he is because he is a black man, and that a white woman with his record of accomplishments would not be taken seriously.
Of course, she's a little bit right. Recently a great political thinker said the reason Obamma was leading in Virginnia was because with one swipe of the pen a white voter could expiate 400 years of guilt.
But I submit another couter: Hiliary is where she is because she was married to one of the most powerful men in the country. And when he left her alone to reform health care she fell flat on her sunny face.
Geraldine, dear, put that in your pipe and smoke it.