Turning over a new leaf in "I Lost 3 Verbs Today," UBob tells readers that he's going minimalist. He's going to shed adverbs and adjectives. Then he wrote this wonderful never-ending sentence:
"I hope this change won't drive my readers off like a pack of angry whores drunk on white hot vengeance and the purple bubbling pain of childhoods wreaked by abusive havoc-slinging parents and step-parents and mom's boyfriends and now these furious sluts storm down to the railroad tracks -the hot rails to nowhere snaking along some nameless river in some nameless valley in some nameless town in Montana and these soul stained harlots with eyes reddened by avarice and yellowed by a wolfish sense of pack and narrowed by mission-critical needs to avoid value subtractive scope creep, climb down a steep bunchgrass covered hillside pockmarked by the dens of athletic jackrabbits and curious ground squirrels to their final destination where crushing doom will meet shrieking violence in roiling thunderheads of the cruelest storms of fate and those are the predetermined hellish outcomes awaiting six drunken hobos sleeping off a night of stealing antifreeze from Montana tractors and mixing it with a half bottle of Gibson's White Port and thudding their cortexes into punch-drunk TKO's next to the dying embers of a stunningly malodorous cowchip fire above the lazy meanderings of a muddy Montana river and now these deadly painted skanks are almost upon them as the sodden train-bums snore rhythmically like the wardrums of hell and ... Oh my god. I can't help myself. I'm sorry. I need an Excel spreadsheet. For a diet. Of words. God."
DFO: And you wonder why UBob's always welcome here?