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It may sound a tad pedantic, but saying “flush out” when one means “flesh out” can have a serious and sometimes hilarious impact on the meaning of what one is trying to communicate.

This public service announcement is made on behalf of my jaw muscles, aching from trying to maintain a straight face through about a half hour conversation with someone who was apparently unaware of the difference.

Recently, ol’ Robbo chucked a couple of walnut shells across the table at our Maximum Leader over his professing to enjoy the “Adagio” from Khachaturian’s ballet Spartacus. (Actually, I called Maxy a Communist.  But after all, he asked.)

Anyhoo, let it not be said that Robbo holds other people to standards to which he does not also hold himself.  Bearing this in mind, I must confess that I somewhat enjoy a few of the dances from Khachaturian’s other ballet, Gayane, particularly the famous “Sabre Dance,”  when they come on the radio from time to time.

In my defense, regular port-swillers will know that I have before now noted my weakness for musick reminiscent of the Turk, the Tatar and the sands of Araby.   And Armenia is close enough.

So there you are.  Whether you believe my interest in pre-20th Century folk tunes from far away places is genuine, or else think I myself ought to be polishing up the Internationale, I leave to you.


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September 2010