Including but not exclusive to sentences like, 'my mistress gave me a full half hour of pure awesomeness last night..."

Allright Tim, just kidding...It's an awesome word.  By why didn't you just call it Night of Making Love to Flying Vampire Monkeys? I might've thought about going.

Now I want to take this next moment to offer up the first review of the Dylan segment of the show tonight. The first song was great, and had that magical awesomeness we've all come to expect from God.  The rest of the set was typical toad garbled four-bar lounge mud. How in balls can you strip that much melody from a song you created?  I guess after 40 years if you've sung it more times than there are lakes in Minnesota, you want it to sound like something else after that many runs. Melody so distant as to be barely discernible from say, Porky Pig singing about the whirling dervish as he emerges from the casbah, clicking his heels. 

Your eminence, your highness, your patent coolness, grand poobah of skinny minstrel hobo Jewish wizardry.   I'm glad you're still kickin' Double B.  Even if you are a legendary asshole. The world has come to expect no less. Besides, it happens to all of us as we age, and our brains shrink like roasted peanuts.