The first thing I saw was this. Then the right reverend Al said "it's becoming clear to me that cricket jargon is made up on the spot." That's how it should have happened, but the reverse was true. I was caught wondering, whilst petting oour zitty Ali, maybe crickets do make everything up on the spot. They get out there in that feild, looking for some hot cricket poon, and they all just start rubbign their legst together at random. After a short period of time, they just start listening to each other and breaking into smaller signalling rings, and eventually single pair. they find each other through the torrent of sound by frequency, and the smae frequencies will meet, mate, and creeate a new one.
A collective song created from scratch every night. A giant jam session.
And it occured to me that cats and dogs might behave the same way. Their language is so much more fluid than ours that we could barely comprehend the thought processes that create their consciousnesses. While some barks are obvioiusly the same: angry loud barks kinda mean the same thing no matter who's emitting them; other sounds change depending on the situation. Two dogs have worked out a system of communication between themselves. There is, therefore, no vocal international dog language. There does, however, seem to be a universal smell language.
Matt told me a story his dad had told him. All the dogs were at the town hall meeting, discussing doggie affairs. When they came in, they all hung their tails on the wall by the door, so they could sit in the chairs. Suddenly, a fire broke out, and in the confusion, everyone grabbed whatever tail they could and ran out. So now, when two dogs meet, they always smell each other's tails to see if it might be their original tail.
I suppose you could make the same sort of story work with buttholes, but I am not the man to write that script.
The A's rocked the house last night. Vivaldi acccomplished that task on Tuesday. Travis will further the cause on Friday.