iss Information has been watching this board from afar with the same sort of bemusement that befits a train wreck in progress, and she thinks it's time for a one-time resurrection of the Nom d'Aplomb award... My Mother's Maiden Name may have been Direction, but this Miss-ive is no more obfuscatory than the usual "sources tell me that Professor Plum saw Colonel Mustard clubbing Miss Scarlett with a lead pipe in the conservatory of JGH" posts that have been popping up in these parts of late. We're just stuck in The Matrix, Rated PG-13.

Alas, folks may need Elephant Memories to remember the NDA, but even a Email Packrat in CoB or a first-rate Googler might find it's the Same Old Deja Vu all over again. So Let's look in the mirror, take a hop through the looking glass & head Back to the future one more time.

Discount degrees done daily, anyone? Just be a Mallwalker in Mean Joe Green Hall (aka CoBmart) where they're dancing the CoB hop & doing all that Theoretical, fundamental, and basic research (except on Fridays, of course).

Now, Miss I is no CoB-basher. Any college that has its own CoB geneologist is bound to score points with the Ladies Missionary Society. We're surprised, though, that Ed-Psych doesn't have its own geneologist in a bottle, since that's where Shelby's Fam'ly Tree is located these days. [Miss I does not with some dismay, however, that the CoBsters can't seem to spell genealogy properly.]

On the gustatory front, it's okay to head over to Gussie's Fried Chicken for your favorite Southern Fried poultry. Tell 'em to Heap on a little moe. Just remember that when it comes to arteries, dunking that pullet in a vat of sizzling lard is bound to be a Lamar County Clogger. And remember, too, that the cook Robbie Burns at least one batch a day, so be choosy.

So as we reflect on this board, or what remains of it, we are reminded of the Hobgoblin of Little Minds. If there's one thing that's been consistent about this place, it's its inconsistency, which is similar to that of a soup made by boiling the shadow of a sparrow that's been starved to death. It doesn't take a Blue Collar Pollster to figure out that half the noms that are listed above more than likely came from the same IP address.

Accordingly, we present this Nom d'Aplomb Award which anyone (or no one) may award to themselves, collectively or separately.

Until next time, if there is a next time, next time.