No question about it. The world needs a little more Foggy, and I�m here to help deliver. Actually, the above captures my basic world view in a way feeble words cannot.

If, that is, you understand from the get-go that the big handsome fella on the right? That would be me. I can provide a laundry list of names suitable for tagging that little creep on the left if you�d like.

But if you�ve got one in your life it�s hardly necessary.

I�d say the IRS comes immediately to mind. Or your average insurance ninny.

Fortunately, I always keep my feathers numbered . . .

I�m not the first to feel the irritation of ninny�s yapping at my heel. It�s not the first time I�ve made mention of it, either, and likely it�s not the last. It�s become a whole sub-theme of the Outfoxed Domain here (after all, you write about what you know, and boy howdy can I tell tales of ninny�s).

But let me mention the rise of the nanny, while I�m at it.

Once the respectful title of a cultured lass from West London, we in these great 50 have inherited a holdover, a by product of too many Saturday mornings spent not watching Foggy for the laughs, but being horrified by his violence, his obesity, his Southern culture. All the things that made him great, in other words.

I for one have had enough of the nanny. I know the difference - the difference betwixt a Ninny and a Nanny. As in . . .

A Ninny is a chafing annoyance with an opinion.
A Nanny takes an annoyance, turns it on you and makes it your problem.

A Ninny is usually an outcast. People know the Ninny and avoid them.
A Nanny gets approval, often given reluctantly, often from the Government.

A Ninny has a sore ass from having it kicked repeatedly.
A Nanny has an ass kissed by all who fear them, and fear crossing them.

A Ninny can be dismissed, and eventually goes away.
A Nanny lingers like a festering sore whose fate is in the hands of the courts.

Foghorn was neither a Ninny or a Nanny. I could have a beer with Foggy. I can�t even imagine having one with (an adult) Egghead. But the Eggheads are the ones who win in the end, leaving Foggy dazed, blown up, and holding a sack of feathers while a Dawg howls approval in the background.

A Nanny is really a Ninny made good, who discovered the power of the fourth estate, who found an audience with those of like mind and even in their minority made enough noise for somebody to take notice and hear the jingle of potential coin (we call �em lawyers in these parts).

That said, I�m calling for a change.

Because my Saturday mornings of old cannot possibly be spent in vain.

And I�m ready for a new sheriff in town. A Nanny slayer. Somebody even more pissed off than me, if that�s possible. And I got us a candidate . . .

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Let�s get this un-fu*ked immediately.

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