Post-Talk Like Slip Mahoney Day: The Encapitation.

Yesterday was the first annual Talk Like Slip Mahoney Day, and I had big hopes of perannotatin' da streets of Noo Yawk, hearin' people droppin' malaprops and wise-guyisms with great acrumb. But sadly, da streets remained unpolluted wit' Slip Mahoney imitators.

Dis is depressatatin'.

Well, Leo, it was just the first annual. We'll start earlier next year. We'll move the decorations into the stores right after Easter. Peeps out, Slip in. We'll have a big Black Toisday sale or something. Get people fired up weeks beforehand. Sell malaprop dictionaries and English/Bowery Boy translator apps.

Maybe it slipped (har!) some minds. Mr. Philbin says he totally forgot for most of the day, until he slipped (hyuk!) some dese and dose into his dialogue after supper.

So assuming that mere forgetfulness was our downfall, I resist his suggestion that we were up against pushback from the Talk Like a Pirate guys. Sure, those guys are scurvied scalawags and all, but their day doesn't fall until September. I consider us cohorts, not competitors. Of course, in the Bowery Boys' film Hold That Hypnotist, it was suggested that in a past life Slip's sidekick Sach Jones snagged a map leading to Blackbeard's treasure, so there may be some bad feelings.

Anyway, enough of this stupidity! Back to our regular stupidity tomorrow!