We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
There is something about a Martini, A tingle remarkably pleasant; A yellow, a mellow Martini; I wish I had one at present. There is something about a Martini, Ere the dining and dancing begin, And to tell you the truth, It is not the vermouth-- I think that perhaps it's the gin.
Harvard drop-out Nash was a master of the fine art of doggerel, aka light verse. It is a much-underappreciated art form. Thanks, reader MM. Always enjoyed him.
And by the way, friends, these people [Dorothy Parker, Ogden Nash et al] were talking about Real Martinis, not this modern claptrap like raspberry martinis, peach martinis, and similar unattractive combinations to lure people who like to drink whiskey and Dr. Pepper together and call it a cocktail. As all you sophisticated maggiesfarmers and their readers know, a Real Martini is made with gin and vermouth and decorated with an olive. It's a real He-Man She-Woman drink which, if you drink enough of them, will render you knee-walkin' drunk. But when you wake up next morning, at least your mouth won't be contaminated with sour sugar aftertaste.