Misunderestimations

I'm sad that I arrived too late for George Bush. He had a certain verbal panache that you moderns are sadly missing. Why not make up words I say, and mash up grammar. Ambrose Bierce (whose works my predecessor in this body appears to have read) had the following definition in his dictionary:

GRAMMAR, n. A system of pitfalls thoughtfully prepared for the feet for the self-made man, along the path by which he advances to distinction.

Very nice I think. Not that old George seems to have done a great deal of self-making, but still - to be mean about a man's grammar betrays a paucity of spirit.

Or maybe it doesn't. I'm having an indecisive day today (probably because of my new job, which is exhausting). I used to have indecisive days back in Galilee too - generally while trying to manage my horrid little armies. I thoroughly applaud the coming of the new age, when all wars will be conducted by robot. Actually, even Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles are a significant step up from soldiers. Military men are always so self important. And they smell terrible, or did in my day at any rate. Always chewing onions and shitting and swaggering about. Yes, my wars would have ben much more fun if I'd been able to wage them via video uplink, sitting in some highly technogized command chair and pressing big red buttons, rather than strapped to that very hoity-toity and over-sexed white stallion that the stable-men dug out for me. How I hated the brute, swaying around in my absurd armour. I had my revenge on his prancing highness in the end though. Had the horse killed and ate him in a stew. Hah! Take that quadruped! Teach the stupid donkey to misunderestimate me!

I know I've been being coy about the job. The truth is I can hardly think about it. Maybe tomorrow.