For those a little light in the loafers and/or in possession of an unfortunate, annoying, yet hilarious lisp, pithy is not a dirty word. Pith is not an acidic liquid.
Use your Google machine and figure it out.
What I do here is not original. I am a copy of other bad copies of something that may have been worth copying originally.
At the beginning of this year, my older brother reached out to ask me to consider podcasting, echoing a couple of suggestions I had received earlier.
The difference between my brother and anyone else encouraging me to do so is that not only is he a consumer of this content, he is an honest and vocal critic. I appreciate that.
By the way, for those keeping score at home, the pronunciation of quixotic is sticky business. My brother and I had quite the text chain going about that very issue.
Back to pith.
I had a great, albeit short phone call on Sunday evening with a wonderful lady who I like very much. It was not a fawning fest; however, she mentioned that one of her favorite features of my content is that it is short. I only waste small bits of her time.
Genuinely, the feedback is appreciated. Thank you.
This is not my “Slim Shady” moment, and I not trying to get cocky, but if you are going to make a veiled slap at me, please, do it prior to the 46:28 mark in a podcast.
Absolutely grueling. Rough start.
Just saying. That belongs a little closer to the beginning.
To my lovely lady friend, I will never, ever waste forty-six minutes and twenty-eight seconds of your time.
Also, isn’t it a bit odd, obnoxious, obtuse, and, dare I say, corrupt, to use the Republican Party to platform oneself? Seems like an abuse of power to me, but what do I know? I’m just a twenty-eight-year-old punk from the northeast side of Elgin.