"Da-da, Why Does Pteranodon Start With 'P' "?

OK, who left 'P' on the chair?   [P available here.]

Da-da takes great some small pride in flexing his wide-ranging, near-worthless education and capacious swiss-cheese memory before his minions children, answering most any question they ask without resorting to Google. (This makes Da-da oh so valuable in power blackout situations, in elevators, camping, etc.)

So, when Da-da's oldest, Nagurski, asked, "Da-da, why does, 'pteranodon' start with 'p'?" Da-da was ready. He was ready to give up and look online, as he could not recall what the Greek word, "ptera" meant. Then Da-da's mommy brain fog (replete with homicidal ghost pirates seeking revenge) parted for a brief moment, allowing Da-da to spot the necessary info tidbit next to that rusty pirate scabbard.

"Ptera" (really, "pteryga") is Ancient Greek for, "wing-y," with "-nodon" meaning, "giant vending machine with teeth." Da-da remembered this because, "ftera" means feathers, and lots of bird names have ftera in there someplace; "ftero-" is Greek for "winged"... but that could make said reptile a, "fteranodon," which involved so much potential flying spit that the powers that were opted for "ptera." Aren't you glad you asked?

But Da-da... why does pteranodon it start with P? Who knows, kid. Go ask an Ancient Greek. Perhaps it begins with P because it had to go to the bathroom all the time. (That's what Da-da told Bronko and Nagurski and they died laughing. It's good to be king.)

Hey! Put that sword away and go sweep out Da-da's corpus callosum!
Lousy cranial fog pirates.

They Saved Da-da's Brain (Well, Not Really)

Luckily for Da-da, he lives with talented 3- and 5-year-old brain surgeons. After seeing Da-da this morning (full fee, o'course), they realized that SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH DADA. Jeez, what was their first clue? Da-da always drools before 10:00 am. Anyway, behold the sorry state of Da-da's brain after a scant FIVE YEARS OF DA-DA DUTY:

Ew. Note the satellite dish and errant lizard. Da-da thought his soft tissue faired pretty well, considering; he was certain he'd have more noggin lizards by now. Regardless, after dangerous lizard- and satellite-dish-ectomies, Da-da's brain now looks like this:






















Much better, though Da-da's corpus callosum still needs work. He won't be happy till his brain looks more like CHER, and less like a spoiled blancmange. At least his L-parietal and L-occipital lobes are showing better definition, post-lizard, though he technically has no R or L without a corpus callosum. Really, everyone will be sporting these new UNIBRAINS in future, starting on Capitol Hill. Ahh, the enlightenment of undifferentiation. Damn, why does Da-da suddenly feel like a giant cockroach? Gotta write a novel about this.