I once confessed I played a passable piano. But then I saw Bruce Hornsby play. My definition of "passable" transmogrified into a necessary gastric function. And, he made me want to chop my fingers off.
But I've gotten over that. (Never mind the image to my left. It's just an alter-ego-toon.)
George Carlin makes me feel that way with words. When I try to string a line of maturative, indurative, depurative, and curative words to halt corporate gobbledygoook it pails and fails in comparison to the world's master word-painter, George CarlinVinci
I yield the floor to George.