I stumbled on this ancient draft post earlier today. It was apparently intended as a response to something Thers (above, seated) posted at Metacomments, which has since been lost along with the blog itself. It still seems timely, though, and it's also a heartwarming reminder of the high times we had in those dear dead days.
Recently, Thers had the idea of bringing the Myles na gCopaleen Catechism of Cliché (up to date), (little knowing) that Crooked Timber had (gamely) attempted it (some years ago).
Unfortunately, (much as I admire) the (good people) at CT, their effort was (woefully inadequate). Like most (human endeavor) in our cold age, it lacked grace, fecundity, and a certain greatness of spirit. Given the dearth of these commodities in (general society), and their superabundance in the warm wellsprings of my own person, it were (rank injustice) if (false modesty) prevented me from sharing my bounty with these (poor but worthy) intellectual starvelings.
Step right up: it's safe as houses and no electric shocks will be given.
Against what embracers of arboreal flora are we to inveigh?
Along with what idolators of the dear old sod?
For what purpose?
To advance the principles of free enterprise and limited government.
What will happen if these principles are not advanced?
Economic collapse and socialist tyranny.
Who argues that climate change is real?
Of what do their arguments consist?
Based on what?
What do they say is falling?
To which avian Cassandra do they accordingly bear a resemblance?
What do they hope to destroy?
No, American Capitalism.
Who might unwittingly aid them in this endeavor?
The gullible masses.
What may I now be permitted to let rest?
(Illustration: From "Hints for Sots," by Flann O'Brien.)