"Unknown animals are appearing all over the place you know, global warming and all that."

Wrote Chip Ahoy in the comments to last night's post "Fox news," about our sighting of a fox running across the frozen Lake Mendota. Chip added, "Still, whatever it is, clearly between wolves, coyotes, bobcats, and humans, it is bobcats that pose the greatest hazard to survival in the wild." He linked to this:



Now, Chip Ahoy is an amazingly great commenter. We are blessed with his exalted presence. But there was another commenter who impressed me greatly yesterday. It was Mr. Forward, who invented — as far as I can tell — a whole new commenting game. He wrote:

One year ago today at the Wisconsin protests, Fox News utters a bizarre sentence played over the years, "We can not afford to indulge this madness, everything Mark Twain wanted to eat when he arrived home at Meadhouse."

Apologize, atheists, accusing others of taking pills at the Snowhill Cafe. It's completely bizarre, a symbolic victory, one year ago today.

Do you get it? He's pasted together bits from my blog posts of the last few days into a fanciful vignette. I'd love to see more of these, I thought, and then I did. For there was Chip Ahoy, in the very next comment — 3 hours later, in the middle of the night — and he's all:

Oh Mr. Forward I'm afraid you have that misread. It's like hieroglyphics, they're read the way they face, in this case they go bottom to top. Strange, I know.

So something like,

The Snowhill cranes ate breaded flounder strips called fingers at the cafe and then delivered pills to Maureen Dawd's recreational porpoise. The atheists are timid in their charges that religion wears contaminated contact lenses but that is surpassed by Glenn retweeting Wright's column about Breitbart dancing with glow sticks at a Rave. A blogger drank mead at the alehouse and casted about and married a broad. Mark Twain traveled around America and ate France and Italy. It was widely known he indulged his madness and engaged in a same sex marriage with a Cardinal and they argue about what words mean and Cardinal said Twain just wanted a sex slave. And Twain said,"I'll always have Erica who is very erotica. So he threw in his keys and left with the frizzy-hair Schultz and said, "Hey, check out my stone foxy lady. Where can I lay this pipe?" And Schultz was all, "Yeah, I wonduh about duh rotunda."

Scampering fox, and — whoa! — the Bobcat!

ADDED: I'm just seeing that Mr. Forward read from the top to the bottom, in order, from one "year ago today" post to the previous day's "year ago today" post, and then Chip did the same thing from bottom to top.

Mr. Forward's poem.

From the "stupid/evil" post:

Did Bradley act badly?
Did Lueder delude her?
Did Prosser cross her?

"He was drinking straight from a bottle of Grey Goose..."

"... and when the deejay started playing M.I.A.'s 'Paper Planes,' he got up, started dancing like a loon and kept on yelling, 'Shots!'"

Aw, leave Michael Phelps alone! What's wrong with drinking in a club? If you go out dancing, why not dance like "a loon"? Let him drink from a bottle of Grey Loon and dance like a goose if he wants. What business is it of yours?

[T]he athlete skeeved out onlookers when he persisted in PDA-ing with his girlfriend, cocktail waitress Caroline (Caz) Pal.

"They wouldn't stop making out! They were literally sucking face, and not caring that anyone was watching," says our snitch, who added that Phelps danced up such a storm that he briefly went shirtless, changing out of his T-shirt in the club and putting on a zip-up hoodie with nothing underneath.

Literally sucking face, eh? Who are these people who go to clubs and are nevertheless susceptible to the skeeves?

You know my position on public display of affection:



So just yell — good-naturedly — "Get a room!" and go find a love of your own. Or sublimate usefully.

IN THE COMMENTS: Mr. Forward has a poem:

Swims like a fish
Dances like a loon
Drinks Grey Goose
Sings off tune
Affection in Public
Isn't so wrong
At least he wasn't
Kissing his bong.

Mr. Forward wrote a poem.

Here. It's a tad "inside Althouse" but very charming (to me, anyway):

Althouse's favorite commentater
Lives under the refrigerator.
He appears as a ghost
when he bothers to post,
Admits "it's the only way I could date her."

AND: Psychedelic George follows on:

A mere common tater,
a tuber who wishes he knew 'er.