A convoke of pies

No idea why, but some weird spambot blog has used a post of mine but fed it through some sort of olde worlde Babelfish translator thingy. This is now my favourite edit of this chapter so far. I would never have thought of describing my discomfort as “fugacious.”

Here are a few of my favourite lines –

Me: I have not learned from my risky trip to Truth or Consequences.

Spambot: I attired in be committed to not cultured from my iffy dance to Truth or Consequences.

Me: I personally react better to the call of pies.

Spambot: I as far as one is concerned get even swop one’s inclination to the convoke of pies.

Me: A few erratic mouse scurries later, I find what I’m looking for, smirk with delight, and snap up a flight to Tennessee.

Spambot: A rarely errant mouse scurries later, I discovery what I’m looking recompense, ridicule with put off attention to a boot from, and deride up a send incorrect to Tennessee.

Me: It’s the prospect of both a Dourest Scot tournament and a Bonniest Knees competition that makes a trip to Clanjamfry, Memphis’ Scottish festival, irresistible.

Spambot: It’s the seascape of both a Dourest Scot contest and a Bonniest Knees daring that makes a dance to Clanjamfry, Memphis’ Scottish feast, irrepressible.

You know, it has been somewhat of an irrepressible dance, this Scottish-American adventure.