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Quackduckery: Ductionary Definition

Ducks and Chucks,

Quackduckery, my friends, is a ducking bad thing. It's when a duck is quack-driven, instead of duck-driven. The duck in question will quack their beak off about this or that without really engaging their duck-brain AT ALL. The result? Some poor, innocent pond-paddler is stereotyped, offended, or ducking ignored.

For example, once, Sir Mallard Jones was in on of his rare bad moods (something to do with Harrods delivering the wrong pair of velvet curtains) and announced to all the birds at the pond that the quality of pond-conversation had plummeted. “All of us can articulate more than a couple of words now, can't we?" he quacked loudly. "We're not complete fools, I take it? Then let us speak in full, sweeping sentences, if you please!"

At which point I had to take him aside and remind him that not all birds can speak in full, sweeping sentences. Ableism is bad and literacy is a privilege, which makes what he said TOTAL QUACKDUCKERY. Plus I reminded him that my Pond CEO, Goose Luce, who'd heard Mallard's little outburst, can only say two words—"Goose" and "Luce."

"What you said gets the flipper from me!" I told him, raising my right flipper. Mallard looked somewhat alarmed, because what bird likes to get the flipper? No bird I know, that's for ducking sure. "You don't have to say more than two words to be a good communicator," I explained. "You need to be less narrow-minded, Mallard."

"Alas, old chap!" quacked Mallard. "I've offended Goose Luce! What am I to do?"

"You need to apologize," I said, "to everyone, without making Goose Luce feel like she's on the spot."

How did Mallard do this? By buying everyone Starbucks. He invested in 28 Venti Quackaccinos and had his robot-butler bring them down to the pond. The Quackaccinos had to be Venti-sized, because on each cup Mallard penned the words, "My dear friends, I was wrong and I apologize profusely. We can't all articulate more than two words because everyone is different. Duck save the Queen!" And that's a duck of a lot of words to fit on a Grande-sized cup—especially when, like Mallard, you write your messages in flowing Medieval-style calligraphy.

I also suggested that if Mallard stopped being snooty about the number of words a bird can use in a sentence, he might write more concisely.

"Good point, old chum!" Mallard replied. "That way, there'd be less to pen on the coffee cups, and I'd only have had to invest in 28 Grande Quackaccinos."

There we have it. Quackduckery never pays.

Loves ya,

Duck T


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