Professor Humphrey jamming on his didgeridoo. I've travelled the world over, teaching the intellectually malnourished how to read. For my pay I've recieved nothing more than a thank-you and a few trinkets. My most cherished gift is a didgeridoo I recieved from the Australian Aborigines about three years ago. Oh, how I love to play that ravishing instrument. If only she had ivories to tickle, but I digress.

I've been teaching this class for over fifteen years and have yet to see one of my students fail. In any event, if I sense even the slightest bit of slacking off, I am going to be right there breathing down your neck making sure you don't screw up again. And so help me god, if you do fail, I'll drive my didgereedoo up your ass so far you wont be able to take a crap til' next semester!

You know, when I was a young man working at the Canayjin embassy in Beirut as part of a senate page exchange program, a wee tot of a boy told me a story, about a goat. I'm not sure how it went, nor does it matter, but the way the lad spoke was something else. Proseful, elegant, and articulate as the sun is bright! Only the great Skalinskavisk rivalled this boys' speech -- history buffs alike will atest to that. But memories as these are like a dying breed, so I must move on.

And move on I will. International trists of insightfulness are good as credentials, but in today's world, where and how do they rate? Yes, I know what you're thinking -- they don't rate very high at all. I can tell you all the stories in the world but when you get right down to it, how does that give one Lionel K. the right to teach a course on Linguisticks, especially when he spells it with a "k." Well, how about doing something for me. Take some time to go over my little questionare on my Linguisticks course page. There's no need to send me your answers, for this is just for you. Hopefully it will give you a better sense of where you stand on the intellectual ladder of life.