Cocktails: Being no Bernard Shaw (although we do share similar entrees), I had my hopes up for some simple, easily remembered, clearly circumscribed, and "slurrable de-scribed" word origin. Reality sucks.
This darn curiosity and "education" thing, I admit I called my favorite reference librarian's city last night. She informed me her library no longer "has relations" with my library, and that I was going to have to find a new library. "But..." Seven years of exchange, trickling into the culvert. It was...cold. "I suggest you might try the State Library," she dwindled. I could not keep her on the line. "Bye" she said.
I couldn't stop crying.
Reality bites.
So now our valiance and resourcefulness has made us better informed and a little exhausted.
"Cocktail" is no crowd scooper. It's a black-hole conversation scupper. I think I could make up a "better" story myself. No chicks are going to stir their drinks and lick their fingers while you unravel that one. There aren't any characters "to like", and the chickens all wind up dead. Might as well call them "cockdeads". How many times can party-goers hear the word cock and hang onto the story line, anyway. It's hopeless.
No wonder nobody knew what it was. Maybe we should've gone after booze.
Education. What does it get you? More headaches; I saw it on the news last night.
I DO like the idea of teaching whole live chickens to dunk their butts in peoples drinks. Jeff, we think alike! (Sorry.) |
