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Baby Bunting Bob

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Blogging from 30,000 feet! In-flight internet!! So cool!

I never thought I would say this, but I really hope this ad is fake, because it disturbs me to think that anyone could write this and actually mean it. It's got to be a joke, or a code, or an advertisement; it just can't possibly be real...
My Bob, sweet Bob, pretty Bobby Miller,
Will you come to-night, Bob, you dear lady killer?
Shall I order fritters, Bob, you cooing, booing bubby,
Or will you bring me lozenges, you squeezy, squisy squbby?
If you disappoint me, pet, all night I'll cry and sob,
And never live to see you, Bob, my baby, bunting Bob.
Do you even need me to add my own commentary to this? Is there anything I can say that can possibly follow this piece of drivel? I feel, if anything, that this might be an advertisement, but as you can imagine, a Google search for Bobby Miller isn't too enlightening, given what a common name it is!

What do you make of this? I have nothing. All I can say is that if this was real, and I was Bob, I'd be so out of that relationship as soon as possible. Sounds more like a nursery rhyme for a kid than anything else. I don't know. I am out of clever ideas on this one.

Having trouble reading the ads? Click one to enlarge!

©2009 Pam Epstein

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