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Fantastic word game

Somewhere along the coast of Florida, on the 3,000th page of another game, a redneck down around Panama City is wondering whether his constant mentions of Tammy the Tarpon, Sandy the Sand Crab and Mickey Marlin have also become stale.

Further adventures of that marine menagerie coming soon. Ummm, no, I'd better not.
 
Officious corrections and the demerits levied with them are the entire reason for the existence of my office, so I hereby tender my resignation (To whom?) and accept my new, humble standing in the Fantastic Word Game's new world order.

I urge the other officers, as well as the entire, shadowy Board of Governors, to do the same. And remember, rcm, no wrestling references!
 
New World Order, as an end clue, is CT's not-so-subtle way to get me to take this contribution towards the squared circle, however, I won't do it and instead will offer up a miniature tube top and sun tanning oil.

That's what we call a swerve around these here parts, folks.
 
A miniature tube top and sun tanning oil will not be needed to watch the Pro Bull Riders compete at Madison Square Garden this weekend.

CT, while I appreciate your magnanimous resignation, my comments were not specifically directed at you.
 
This weekend I am preparing The Ranch for the upcoming bone chilling cold weather.

Single digits? Chance of snow?? Jumpin' Jehosaphat! I gotta chop some wood.
 
A lot of stupid things may happen if CT resigns (bad move, CT) so I hope dmargalotti knocks some sense into his head.
 
Noticable misinformation levied in post #49,510, given that CT's recent resignation of the linguistics duties will most certainly not open the floodgates of stupidity around here.

After all, every single member of the Liberation Party of Fantastic Word Game (LPFWG, if you prefer) has taken a sworn oath to keep this game safe from any future attempts of self-appointed leadership.
 
Around here things happen fast, so if you want to stay in the Game, keep your head on a swivel and always be ready, as the biz opp jargonists, clicheists, and buzzworders say, to pivot.
 
Issue a refund to every patron who has ever stepped foot inside of the new Illusions, because from here on out admission is free.

Rides on the mechanical bull are subject to a nominal $5 "future disposal" fee, however, and will be collected by the Petite Blonde Intern. She's gotta keep up her end of the boudoir's financial portfolio somehow.
 
Hidden fees, we call it nickelin' n' dimin' down here, are the calling card of a no-account scoundrel just trying to milk you dry of everything you're worth.

I'm pretty sure it's still within the spirit of my given word for me to use the word "milk", just not the source from which it comes.

Chief, I think you may have just gained additional respect from the most honorable gentleman hailin' from the great State of Vermont with that mighty fine statement you made right there.

A tip o' the 10-gallon hat in yer general die-rection from the Lone Star redneck, as well, my good man.
 
"Everything you're worth!" demanded the road agent, who identified himself as a "toll collector."

Thanks for your kind comments, rosecitymedia.

Incidentally, Texas and New York have a shared Worth, so to speak. (Fort Worth was named for William Jenkins Worth, a native of the Empire State.)
 
Toll collector is a job now done electronically on most toll roads.

Rose: While milk, minus a certain cow, is acceptable in TFWG's new world order, your mentions of my former intern (and your former magical-fingered milk maiden) and my former boudoir (the pretend one, that is) are so closely tied to the barnyard narrative that they ought to be eliminated as well.
 


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