New Year, Same Me

I am going through another one of those identity crisis blogging phases. Don't know what to write or why anyone visits. blah blah blah. I did something different this time. I told that little voice inside me to shut the fuck up (as long as I'm just talking back to one of the voices, it's okay, right?) and I went back to read over some of my older posts. That led me to remember something I stumbled across when I needed to translate my questions to Russian for Dr.X on the MDOD calendar post. I'll bet you thought those weren't real Russian words.

Yeah, even I know you can translate anything to another language on the internet. But I learned you can also "convert English text to any of several comic dialects," including redneck, pig latin, moron, Elmer Fudd, etc.

I converted my blog description to Redneck (The Dialectizer):
It is as though someone has drilled peep holes into th' walls of emerjuncy rooms, operatin' rooms an' docko's' offices. ah cain't look away.

Ok, I'll admit it. It doesn't sound much different from the way I say it.

Here's part of Dr. Schwab's latest post Sampler in Redneck:

ah present a samplin' of whut this hyar blog has been about. Occashunal rant aside, it's been mah goal t'let varmints into th' operatin' room, an' into th' life an' thunks of a surgeon; t'share mah take on some surgical corndishuns, an' sometimes jest t'git a laugh.

Memo'able Patients: I've told sto'ies about varmints who made a trimenjus impresshun

har, (the dawgoned-est stool I've evah see in a belly)
har, (when mah partner got sick)
har, (she killed her caregivah, an' almost killed herse'f)
har, (thirteen years old, an' ah c'dn't save her)
har, (until th' end, she kepp brin'in' me grub)
har, (kidney kincer in his pancreas, an' he kepp on truckin')
har, (bleedin' so fast, ah c'd hear it)
har, (no stomach, kepp eatin' steak)
har, (breast-heart cornneckshun?)
an' hyar. (a screw-up in a great guy)

Here's part of Dr. Dino's The Wiseass on the Elevator via Smurf the Web:

Our local mall has two levels. Darling Spouse and I headed over there this afternoon to get a few gifts and enjoy some smurfy people-watching. Smurfilicious! At one point, we were on the bottom level and needed to go to the upper one; the most direct route was smurfily the elevator.

(well, just be thankful there was no mention of Itchy Smurf)

One more, in Pirate talk (The Voices of Many) from MDOD's The Naked, the Fat and the Dead:

Here’s some free advice: Don’t get so fuckin' fat that when ye die, yer family has t' deal with yer ginorm'us whale-carcass.

One o' me local pathology colleagues had a gastric bypass patient die today – he be 45 years old an' 780 pounds. I think his BMI be, like, a trillion! Avast!!

Listen, I be havin' nothin' against fat people. First o' all, fat chicks love t' be havin' sex, an' be good at it, because they be so grateful fer the attention! Avast!! Second, fat people get sick an' die m're often, which be great fer business. Third, an' most important, fat people be great t' make fun o'.

(I make it a policy not to criticize other people's posts on my blog, but Eto-whatever's post kinda pissed me off when I read it (and, no, you little E-shit, I'm not fat). However, I just finished off a pound of fudge in four days and now I plan on reading E's post every day until I lose the holiday weight. Although I did like that part about being good at sex...)

If you have some time to kill and want to play with your own blogs:

Smurf the Web
The Voices of Many
The Dialectizer