The bear that was frolicking down the street from here made it onto the front page of today's newspaper. He was up in a tree in one picture and he looked so cuddly. So cuddly, as bears in pictures often do. There have been a lot of such interactions here in the urban/wilderness interface. That's the kind of jargon that people looking at pictures of bears use. Confronting a real bear in your little corner of the interface often leads to screeches and then sprints. "Sprints", it turns out might have more phonemes than any other one syllable English word. It has seven, which kind of casts doubt on the whole meaning of the word "syllable". Good to know when you're running for your life. Well, maybe not just then, but if you survive, you'll have a good story, and you can just kill on trivia night.
By the way, is it just me, or I should say, me and Rush Limbaugh who I still can't stand but who has been blaring down one of my streets lately (and now, a new aside, a lady on the new part of my route asked me today if I would always be coming about that time; I had to tell her that I didn't even know from day to day if I would be coming back at all) so by the way is it just me (and Rush) but what's the deal, is Obama running for the presidency of Germany, or of the world, or what?
Now, for extra credit, you can diagram that last sentence.