Curmudgeon Report Derivation
Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, …
lest they … turn … and rend you.
… yet, defiantly, Mudge Wigglesword said, “Let there be Curmudgeon Reports.”
CURMUDGEON REPORT DERIVATION
Curmudgeon Reports are a joint effort.
Mudge Wigglesword is a longtime friend, in spite of acerbic opinions and noxious habits that isolate him from others in mainstream society. I forgive his sniping sarcasm and delusional rants, understanding that innumerable tumbles down twelve steps have irreparably damaged not only flesh and bone, but reason and civility. Apart from myself, the only other harboring him sympathy is … ah … well, perhaps no one, but his parrot, Socrates.
My sympathy stems not from generosity of spirit, but the collegial bond of “writerhood.” We are both unfulfilled scribblers. My desire for authorship arises from a modicum of ego and the desire for demotic repute, inconveniently incompatible with tepid interest in actually working. Mudge’s motivation to wield a literary pen is more spiritual. Following a four-day binge, my friend spent a night in a handy garbage dumpster. On awaking, he experienced a considerable pain in his gluteus maximus; investigation showed it to be a very sharp lead pencil, which Mudge interpreted as a sign from the heavens that he should be a “writer.”
Due to Mudge’s refusal to consort with those who bath, which pretty much isolates him from ordinary societal intercourse, we have consummated a Devil’s Pact, of sorts. He does the actual writing (sparing me the arduous labor of thought) and I, a paragon of computer wizardry, will cast his pearls before … electronically receptive whomevers; therefore, from time to time, some of his “wisdomly” pearls may be gleaned from this site.