Admonishment #316. The Hundred Troubled Scorpions Alternative
"Woe, ye limp of wrist, and swaggerers, and fakers of high prosperity. Woe, thou son of flesh & ruckus. 'Twould be better for thee to swallow an hundreds troubld scorpions than to continue in this way." --from "Psalm of Wretchedness & Devastatien," The Book of Wine & Seizures.

Admonishment #904. On the Ignominy of Sportscasters
Sportscaster, chew Camay and go belching bubbles-- that's for your chuckling and making unconcerned banter over athletes' shameful attempts to cheat (as in pretending to have caught a pass that in fact bounced off the gridiron) and their Mungo Man fistic exchanges when events sour and frustration blooms. The sentiment that stirs in the valued heart is disgust, denunciation the only acceptable broadcast response. Not all viewers are filed-teeth ogres cheering the demise of civil standards and the corruptive indoctrination of the imitative young generation. Oh-- or are serious parents supposed to ban the kiddies from TV sports like everything else? Is there anything left that can be permitted, or are the children of principled parents supposed to grow up disadvantaged, severed from the culture around them? Some culture, eh? Lie, cheat and steal. Darling when the pros do it. ...FIX the culture! Bring out a bar of Irish Spring and feed it to the announcer who announces, "Clearly he was not fouled on the shot, but in a game this close ya can't blame him for making the case." Perhaps introduce a bar to that sportscaster's dorsal orifice and send him trailing evil bubbles.

Admonishment #1517. On Getting Any On You
A guy I know knows a guy who knows another guy whose exit line is, "Don't get any on you." This is a most versatile admonishment, and easily stolen.

Admonishment #84. On the W's of Making Love
Be careful making love. Take a care with Whom or What you make it. Be careful Where you make it. Be careful When you make it. Be careful Why you make it. And certainly, be careful How you make it.
. . . As Eltheodora sat picking ticks off Ol' Yaller and wondering where all the sophisticated international playboys with fifth-grade educations have gone. . .

*****FBF