A Rose Is a Sore Is Eros, Dept.

You know, people write to me sometimes and they ask questions. All sorts of questions. Personal questions. Probing questions. Personal, probing questions. One of the most popular goes something like this: 'Ey, sobsister! Whatfor you always gotta be callin' the president a 'cunthead'? Huh? Whatfor?!

When I receive these bits of poorly-spelled, badly-redacted correspondence, I usually chuckle, wipe my spectacles with a sizable handkerchief I keep in my left sleeve, and down another two fingers of Everclear. Ha ha! Just kidding! It's only one finger mixed with a little Red Bull.

Anyhoo, yes, the time has come to clear up this tragic-yet-humorous misunderstanding. As a result of kerning issues in most browsers, you may think that you're reading the word 'cunthead' in entries I've written about our beloved President. But that could not be farther from the truth. You see, what I've actually typed here in Sobsister Central is 'cún thead', a Gaelic phrase which means "honorable beyond description". So that when I say something like "Cunthead George is at it again", you know that I mean to pile nothing but accolades on our Chief Executive's sun-kissed shoulders.

Ain't language grand?
It's what separates us from the apes.
And Southerners.