In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion reads the paper
If you miss the first sound, it is impossible to know whether or not people are chanting “Stan! Stan! Stan! . . .” or “Dance! Dance! Dance! . . .” (Go ahead and try it. I’ll wait. Pick one and start chanting it over and over again. See how it sounds just like the other? Now pick up the pieces of your blown mind and read on.) Therefore, if you walk into a room and people are shouting, “Dance! Dance! Dance!” you might want to hold off on your running man, because maybe they are cheering for Stan. (If your name happens to be “Stan,” then the running man will be appropriate regardless.)
If Gene Autry refuses to enunciate, then how am I ever going to know whether or not he’s a Roman cowboy or a roaming cowboy?
Things I can’t get enough of: when people pronounce “WD40” as “dub-ya-dee forty” or say “tuba for” instead of “two-by-four.”
I can’t tell you why I ever started trying in the first place, but I’ve learned through sad experience that I cannot say, “The crack of the pool balls,” in a Pepe-le-Pew-style French accent without it sounding like I’m saying something else really, really disgusting.