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GeorgeDickel

  1. Shwab plays poker as the Kentuckian makes whisky: With the some-what tragic belief that in-eptitude can be compensated for with consistency.
  2. I hope the townsmen in the barber-shop who so o-pose gaiety in marriage do not happen upon Mrs. Gussie and myself at Thursday’s barn-dance!
  3. The forsythia is in bloom and the batch is in the cask. Who will join me in a hymn of the church?
  4. Judging by your favr’ng-record, our commonality seems not the delight of a satisfying lot; but rather a shar'd disdain for the Kentuckian.
  5. Snap to, swooner-dandies! Cleveland had a grand reception, as well, and was clouted prompt’ly in the pickle-barrel with Gorman’s Tariff Act...
  6. For a moment, I thought he planned to speak a-gainst the Kentuckians' bourbon! {But it appears he had a diff'rent "bitter-swill" in mind.}
  7. I advertised {Distill’ry-Men Needed For Chill-Mellowing!}, and have in-explicably attracted a large number of Cannabis-scent'd loaf-abouts...
  8. Well wishes! May you spend the new year free from want, sadness, and conscription by industrialist factory-barons.
  9. I was at-first taken aback by a nomination for @shortyawards {I measure well-over 17 hands!}, but am now, on further study, most honr'd.
  10. @boonerang Gussie and I shall entertain the grand-children! {Kind'ly do not tell the dogs; they have only now recover'd from the last time.}
  11. Kentuckians no longer feud? Is it because they all soon found them’selves in the same family? (I shall continue to root for the Howards!)
  12. My almanac fore-casts snow to-morrow; a prediction confirm’d by the sudden near-rabid milk-hoarding among the townsgentry.
  13. @TBones_mom As is my tradition on Thanks-Giving, I shall eat like Cornelius Vanderbilt; then nod off like Grover Cleveland.
  14. When a mash goes in the still, I am prone to ex-claim, “Sweet Transubstantiation!” (I hope any Papists at-hand will off’r me an indulgence!)...
  15. The onions in Gussie’s Smoky Mountain Rabbit Pie, I presume, serve main'ly to ensure the aroma drifts clear to the grist-cove. O rare woman!...
  16. Why can’t a Kentuckian make a 12-year whisky? He has but ten fingers! Huzzah! {I trust you will kind'ly indulge me a rare puerile de-tour.}...
  17. We did not discuss the terrible crop of 1871. It never came up.
  18. Perhaps the most charming aspect of the Kentuckian’s particular dialect is the way in which {coal oil} is pro-nounced {bour-bon}.
  19. You young-sters had best be careful with your boist’rous Presidential calumny; You certain'ly shall bring a Sedition Act down up-on us all...
  20. Corn, barley; commodities! Rare is the fire of persisting dissatisfaction and the bless’d hand of a strong woman. O, and these gaiter-boots!...