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Fantastic word game

The thighs o' a yardbird are much to the dee-light o' some fowl con-sumer's palettes, but this ol' fried chicken eatin' hayseed will always pre-fer the breast.
 
My permanent record in school DID NOT foller me throughout my adult life, but that was the misinformation per-petuated by several nuns.

Maybe the sisters jist needed a 9th Commandment refresher course o' their own.
 
On the streets of Los Angeles, ICE agents are arresting and deporting dozens of innocent Italian-Americans, thinking they pose just as serious a threat to traditional American values as dmargalotti does back in New England with his flagrant misuse of "shutdown" as a verb.

One word as a noun, two as a verb, three demerits.
 
An action in contribution dee-livery is sorely needed this here early mornin' n', by golly, I'm up in time to provide it.
 
In time to provide it before the hayseed has breakfast, the postman is coming up the dusty road with a parcel of demerits stamped "52,901," referring to the submission in which rcm evidenced his palette/palate confusion.

I believe this may be a second offense. The noun referring to taste is "palate." A "palette" is a paint board used by an artist.
 
Confusion has befallen the dynamic duo up in that there boudoir, 'cuz if'n the two o' 'em were to levy a fine to the ranch over ev'ry purposeful misspellin' or misusin', unnecessary apostrophe substitutin' n' hyphen addin', no sense makin' sub-mishun o' mine, they'd both be as white as a vampire.

'Cuz, I reckon, y'all'd never see the light o' day again.

Return to sender. Address/occupant deemed un-dee-liverable.
 
As white as a vampire during these cold winter months, I've decided it's time to start planning another trip to sunny Florida to get my tan on.
 
Get my tan on a horse saddle would ree-quire the standard usage o' animal brains.

Yer welcome to stop on by Texas, en route to Florida, n' try it fer yerself. You'll end up golden brown n' the envy o' all yer feller mayflower dwellers.
 
Animal brains may be a delicacy in some places, but if you ever try to put that stuff on my pizza, I will make it my personal mission in life to hunt you down and hold you accountable for crimes against humanity.
 
Crimes against humanity are often co-mitted right here at Fantastic Word Game ev'ry day, er at least crimes against them there warm bodies who have ex-celled in the fine art o' the English language's intended usage.

'n I ain't the only one co-mittin' 'em, y'know. I'm jist the one bein' all flagrant 'bout it.

I do weep for the boudoir n' their hectic workload, however.
 
Those around you wonder if'n you ever gave any thought o' con-vertin' to Judaism in order to get an additional 7 days of celebration?

Er... maybe it's jist me a wonderin', Padre. I, once, con-sidered it, given the whole oil story that's in-volved.
 
7 days of celebration and then back to the grind of finding a homeland that wouldn't turn on them and send them packing, alas, is basically the way most Hanukkahs turned out for the Maccabees and succeeding generations.

Ironic, too, that when those descendants finally got a patch of ground of their own, there was no oil under it.
 
"The American Dream" Dusty Rhodes once exclaimed that he'd wined n' dined with kings n' queens, slept in alleys, n' even ate cans o' cold pork and beans.

Reminisce with this here ol' hayseed, "ith yew we-yul." We've got an increasingly rare Pro-'rasslin Post o' the Week here.
 


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