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.