An Apology of Sorts

Oh, dear.

It seems that I might have crossed the line of good taste in yesterday's post about feces transplants. I thought it was all in good fun. If not exactly good clean fun. No malice was intended. Yet it seems that some found my goodwill gesture of spreading news of cutting-edge developments in the field of intestinal medicine to be less than savory. For all who were offended, and afraid to leave a comment expressing your true feelings, all I have to say to that is..."Up your nose with a rubber hose!" Oh! Did that really fly out of my fingertips? I most certainly did not mean that! That is what Horshack on the Welcome Back, Kotter show used to say. Not me. I don't quite know where that came from. I am a lady of tact and refinement. So here is an open apology to all who might have been put-off by my off-color topic.

Dear Readers Who Found Yesterday's Post Offensive:

The messenger readily accepts the blame. In trying to inform the masses about the work being done to foist feces into other folks' bowels, I did, perhaps, cross the line of good taste.

I thought I had charged right up to the precipice overlooking the chasm of inappropriateness, and put on the brakes in time, before I became a cartwheeling Wile E. Coyote spinning down to a dot and a puff of dust. However, it seems that I took the plunge. So...since that horse is out of the barn, that train has pulled away from the station, that poop has left the chute...allow me to apologize.

I get it. Feces is not your cup of tea. Like schoolchildren, some bloggers seek approval, and some simply seek attention. It seems that I am one of the latter. The potty-mouth of the classroom becomes the poopy-fingers of the internet.

That's me. I cannot change my spots. I can only offer a half-hearted apology when the poo hits the air-circulator.

As my husband, Hick, would say: "Well, IF I really offended you, then I GUESS I'm sorry."