Beware the windy satisfaction of the tongue
The sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick.
According to the Guinness Book of World Records, this is officially the 'World's Hardest Tongue Twister.' They are all hard to me though, my tongue is as thick and stubborn as a superglued brick.
The tongue is the most troublesome thing in the world, and governments have been brought to their knees by nothing more than the power of an unruly tongue.
Supposedly the brain doles out the commands that rule the tongue, but I personally think that many tongues have their own brain. Take mine, for example.
I can't remember the times my tongue has cut loose with a sudden lash of what some might call wit, only to realize two seconds later that my foot was suddenly taking up the space where the tongue usually resides. It is no use slowing down and keeping the lip tightly zipped either, for the tongue has the power to unzip any lip.
It may not come as a surprise to anybody that 50 percent of the bacteria in the mouth live on our poisonous tongues. Airing them out does no good either, for a wagging tongue is as germy as a silent one.
There are approximately 9,000 taste buds on the tongue, with each tribe fighting for supremacy.
The salt and sweet taste buds are at the tip of the tongue, in the high rent district. The bitter buds live in the ghetto at the base and the sour ones are in the suburbs along the sides. They all conspire to torture and tantalize us our whole lives.
Women have more taste buds than men, which comes as no big revelation to me. I've seen men eat things without a second thought when just the sight of it could bring a woman to her knees. Yes, in some cases, seeing can jumpstart the taste buds.
It is said that 85% of the population can curl their tongue into a tube. I don't have a clue why that is important, but I'm sure that somebody got a government grant to study it. If anyone gives a lick, I am one of the curlers.
Every person has a unique tongue print. Don't ask me how they label or categorize them, for I don't really care to know what my tongue print is. It is probably one of the disgusting ones, whatever that might be. Once again, a government grant was probably at the root of discovering tongue prints.
One reason a dog is such a loveable creature is that his tail wags instead of his tongue. There is nothing more nerve wracking than a perpetually wagging tongue that has become disconnected from any semblance of a thought process.
Saints preserve us from the unsightly flapping of a piehole from which there is no escape, for many of us would sooner face waterboarding or the fangs of a poisonous serpent.
That is one reason I hate election years.
About 35 or 40 years ago I got trapped next to a motor-mouthed woman for 12 hours on a jampacked Greyhound bus. Luckily I have always had the ability to turn my brain on and off like a lamp, inducing an open-eyed coma that allows just enough grunting to fake cognition. I still think my ears may have turned a pale shade of blue from the incident. Little did I know it at the time, but I was practicing for my role as a husband in a future life.
Uh oh, did I just have a slip of the tongue?
You’d think I would have learned when to hold the traitorous little bugger by now.