this some kind of plot that everywhere I turn, I am being bombarded with HIPPOPOTOMI?
Clearly that fertile aquarian has become the mother of all posts.
And speaking of maternal pride: The tale is told of three american-indian ladies, talking one fine afternoon while seated at their labors. The first, seated on a bearskin, boasted that her son was so fine a hunter that he had killed 20 deer that season. The second, seated on a buffalo hide, countered that her son had accomplished that same notable feat. But the third lady, seated on a hippopotomus (!) pelt, smiled quietly, secure in the recollection of her younger days when, as a warrior princess and Artemis, she had personally had equal success in the hunting arts.
Proving once again the Pythagorean insight that the squaw on the hippopotamus is equal to the sons of the squaws on the other two hides.
