Con me with a kiss, my love; con me with a kiss.
In a hole me with a kiss, my love; in a hole me with a kiss.
On a high me with a kiss, my love; on a high me with a kiss.
Sort me with a kiss, my love; sort me with a kiss.
And if you must, and if you insist,
Unclassify me with a kiss, my love;
unclassify me with a kiss …
* “A con, in a hole, on a high – or sorted?” was the once upon a time tagline of a now very dormant political blog I used to write until a few years ago. The four phrases related to different meanings of the term “fix”, all of which became the categories and definers of the content:
- to fix something – as in a confidence trick or fraud
- to be in a fix – as in a quandary
- to experience a fix – as in positively pleasurable feelings
- to fix a problem – as in repairing or resolving
There was also a fifth category: unclassifiable.
I commonly see the world in such intimately tied together terms. I think a lot of us around here do. I’ve never seen it as a virtue, nor anything special. It’s been a daily happenstance for me. I just do it.
I’ve seen yous do it too. And it gives me grand satisfaction.
I hope, equally, what I do continues to provide you with utility and pleasure.