- Rough cough.
- Sandwichification of the fingers.
- Dyspeptic sanguinity.
- A very specific and rare type of aphasia in which the only sentence you can say is “Forget it, Jake: it’s Funkytown.”
- Yo-yo balls.
- Hydrophobia. (But not to the point of rabies. Just mildly startled by water. Like, you’d walk by a lake and go Ah! Shit! but you wouldn’t sprint in the other direction.)
- Box-backed nitties.
- Great big ennobled thighs.
- Boar’s-hog eye.
- Tennis elbow.
- Pickleball hip.
- Jai-alai shoulder.
- Heebies, but not jeebies. (The presence of jeebies is a complete counterindicator for coronavirus.)
- Rhinophyma.
- Hypertrichosis.
- Po-faced skepticism.
- Scrofulatic estrangement (spleen).
- Amnesia, but only about the Wu-Tang Clan. (And if someone reminds you about them, you’d be all Oh, yeah, the Wu-Tang Clan and then immediately forget about them again.)
- A weird kind of pica where you’re compelled to condition before you shampoo.
- Deep sloppy tongue.
- Haunch bloatation.
- Fire in the nethers.
- The irresistible urge to find a bell tower and wait for a sunny day.
- Increased gumminess.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
© 2026 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Damn. Was hoping my jai-alai shoulder and haunch blotation were not a sign. The scrofulatic estrangement pretty much nails it. I’ll have to get over my po-faced skepticism and get tested.