Lemme regale you with splendid and fabulous exuberance

Lemme regale you with splendid and fabulous exuberance Despite being an amateur paperback writer wannabe, whose storied protagonist stars colporteur wannabe (thinly veiled cover as yours truly), whereby his antagonistic doppelgänger donned as a frotteur trumpeting animalistic, chauvinistic, egoistic, averse to gradualistic, individualistic... narcissistic, opportunistic hauteur with a penchant for littérateur, whose favorite genres constitute the blending (think Louis Pasteur) of one criminally and mysteriously hellbent expert pathologist, whose found role of self chosen prosateur loosing overactive imagination to guide and to craft believable scenarios, whereby provocateur earned himself title of master raconteur this side of Schwenksville, actually a double agent gussied up as rapporteur, whose burning side kick (splitting hairs over being primary most intrepid gumshoe), dolled up as a répétiteur and co-owner as restaurateur catering to Norwegian bachelor farmers freshly baked Powder Milk Biscuits, (cuz heavens they're tasty and expeditious made from whole wheat that give shy persons the strength to get up and do what needs to be done your family must try them), and also serving the chattering class, yet always being affronted courtesy basket of deplorables, the whole bunch of rapscallions nothing but nattering nabobs of negativism buzzfeeding, growing, and jump/kick starting wild asparagus and overgrown kudzu in serious need for secateur to be placed in the hands of well muscled olympian shamateur adroit to handle tools of the horticultural trade with both his arms and legs. I ask myself the following rhetorical question. How does that hot germ oven idea coalesce from figment of imagination to fully fleshed out magnum opus? Lucky those prospective and potential authors, who start writing at a young precocious age, perhaps when in utero, hearing mellifluous cadences of punctuated words courtesy family and friends (constituting a veritably healthy melting pot of diverse creed (dancers fluid in movement as clear water in attendance at a revival) ethnicities, genders nationalities, political stripes with the caveat (so long as each person considers him/herself a Democrat) races, religions, et cetera comfortably ensconced and seated within or upon a cozy environment of lazy boy chairs, and bean bag pillows, thus auditorily exposed to countless languages spoken with various and sundry naturally uttered modulations and amplifications particularly homeschooled with access to online material and tutorials writing their first of many New York Times best sellers, when just a lad or lass. Bennett Cerf, Theodore Geisel (otherwise known to children as Doctor Seuss) Roald Dahl, Shel Silverstein, represent a small number of popular kids writers during growing up years of mine, which came to mind courtesy Google search videre licet list names of children's authors during the 1960's and 1970's, when Beatlemania in full swing, though yours truly totally oblivious to the fab four, who burst upon the scene skyrocketing to fame and fortune. Ineffable and mindblowing how ingenious an attention grabbing an innocuous sounding title (many times an obscure author whose book(s) purchased at Worthwhile Thrift Store in Collegeville for pennies on the dollar (more so when color coded tabs confer discount on certain days, plus getting that senior discount knocks the total price even further), yet within minutes attention of mine riveted, where I must continue reading until sleep overtakes me, or less likely death do me part.