Pronunciation makes me fill the world with broken dreams

When your seduction technique involves the flawless delivery of the word "rhomboid" and you fail to deliver the goods you might as well lock yourself in the basement and read Blood Meridian until the peace of eternal sleep washes over you.

I will swat your art and wag a finger and yell "Not in my house!"

Back in '85 I opened a dive on the corner of Division and Alderson in Billings. So one day we get this guy who insisted pointillism is the definitive post-impressionist form of civil disobedience. I disagreed so vehemently I poured a bucket of rusty nails in his Boddingtons and forced him to drink it lest he incur a post-impression of my fist in his soul.

And that man was Thomas Jefferson, the liquor license commissioner.