Last Month in ManageIQ: quandaries
Since its founding in 2018, Last Month In MIQ has been the absolute golden standard for journalistic integrity, never afraid to grab truth by the scruff of the neck and shake it up a little. Of course, that being said, we do ever so occasionally take a break from our regularly scheduled program to bring you insights into the minds of our crack team here at MIQ. I know you look forward to such rare occasions with baited breath. Best not to think about what it’s baited with.
Unfortunately the current run of our blog has had to be mostly abandoned because of its low visibility and a striking case of writers’ remorse, but we felt that our readers would still want to know a little something of the private lives of our contributors.
On second thought, no, never mind, I’ll spare you all.
Does the average person get enough sleep? What is enough sleep? What is the average person? What is “does”?
While we’re on the subject of sleep, even seven hours’ sleep does a soul no good if they are spent wondering what it is that is lying across the foot of the bed just over their ankles. As many of you know, I am without a dog at present, so there is no way for me to explain even to myself what it is that lies across my ankles just after I get to sleep. I mean, if it’s not a dog… Perhaps that is what hope is, the thing that lies across your ankles after you get to sleep. Emily Dickinson must have been confused. She is also said to have been convinced that a recuperative night can be spent only by sitting bolt upright in bed, with the eyes as wide open as humanly possible and a large blunderbuss resting across the knees.
My latest fiasco, incidentally, involved the writing of a post entitled “How To Be Funny”, targeted at jrafanie (who has the honor of being picked on this time because he has a one track mind, and it’s a dirt track), and included the following gem: “By some historical accident, puns are lumped in with things that make us laugh. Ignore that mistake. Don’t make puns.” Though, please feel free to tell him that “he has the spirit of a Cossack, and that with boots and a sabre and a Persian lamb hat he could ride down peasants in the grand manner.” It is not intended as a compliment, though he of course is peculiar and contrary enough to take it as one anyway.
Speaking of LJ, a shockingly vast number of people use faulty English without knowing it. Ain’t you?
You know how you regularly have desperately wanted to use the word “eleemosynary” and have found yourself simply unable to do so without laughing? So you have of course used “whom” instead, thinking that it means the same. Well, it don’t—doesn’t.
Now all this may have seemed a very funny joke to you (or perhaps not, but if it doesn’t, please never darken my door again) but I have an actual word of serious warning to end on. Pay attention. This month will be a bad one for those people who bruise easily, as meteor showers are predicted. The month is April. The date is the fourteenth. The time is nine PM Eastern Standard. The moon is the same round old yellow thing. The meteor is the thing that may hit you in the face if you’re searching for the same round old yellow thing. We shall cover fatalities by meteor in our next blog post.