Spouting gibberish

 

The word "gibberish" originates from the Middle English term "gibber," which referred to the chatter or language of a young child or someone speaking in a rapid, incomprehensible manner. "Gibber" itself likely derived from the verb "gibe," meaning to speak or talk inarticulately or nonsensically. Over time, "gibber" evolved into "gibberish," which came to describe speech or writing that is unintelligible, nonsensical, or difficult to understand. Today, "gibberish" is commonly used to describe language that lacks coherence, logic, or meaning.

--ChatGPT

 I'm thinking of inventing a new dance called the Gibberbug. And in retrospect, Tom Robbins should have called his book Gibberbug Perfume. Now that would have been even more classic than his loveable, intellectual gibberish.g a

If you are wondering about the "Will trade first class ticket for Chex Mix" image, it refers to a Wall Street Journal article about how much Chex Mix costs at airports now. In La Guardia, a small bag costs almost $10. Apparently it blew up Twitter X (or X Twitter) recently. I thought I'd jump on the trend and give people something to wear in the security line.

But apparently the high cost of Chex Mix is so yesterday and we're off to the next trend like a dog barking at squirrels. My old Biden-like mind reels at keeping up.

Which leads me back to gibberish. I feel that I am spouting it regularly at times since no one seems to comprehend my humor, my insights, my puns or my t-shirts.

I'm going to try out "Pause for lugubrious gibberish howling."

I do like the sound of lugubrious gibberish.

I've probably recounted this story (but what story haven't I recounted by now), but back when I was in Junior High I used to see this man walking alone along the main roadway that you took to get to my Junior High. He wasn't a very big man as I recall but he always wore a large cowboy hat. And as he walked along, he carried on a pretty animated conversation with whatever demons or angels that spoke to him.

I'd hear bits and pieces of the conversation as we drove past. It was nothing terrible profound, just stuff like, "Oh, she's fine, she was just telling me the other day how find she is." If he wasn't just walking along alone (in a time before cell phones, mind you) you'd think he was just talking to a friend. Who knows, maybe he was just a ghost from the future talking on a cell phone.

At the time I just thought the man's elevator didn't quite reach the penthouse. But lately, I kind of understand him.

Pause for more lugubrious gibberish and howling.