Received a note from the creative force behind the aforementioned seafaring feline(as well as several other 'top secret' projects in which he has graciously allowed me to have a hand!), seems at least one of his other co-contributor has the same dim view as my own, expressed in recent email, of the oft-repeated, overused, beaten like a dead horse, tired out, worn out, trite, hackneyed, rusty, misapplied, sarcastic, sardonic catchphrase, 'It's all good.'

Quote: "Totally unsolicited. (I never use the term) But just like you, he said, "As much as I hate the term..."It's all good".  Haha!"

To which I replied: "Well, they say 'great minds think alike'. There's your proof."

And to which I add the following:

"Points to ponder: If this true is of 'great minds', that they all 'think alike', then it must be true of 'mediocre minds' as well.

And of 'miniscule minds'.

So, logically then, all minds 'think alike'.

If that is true, why can't we all agree that sayings like 'It's all good! are, in fact, no good?!?"

Just something to think about. But not for long. Here's another nugget: They say 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions'. Well, especially in light of the foregoing, would you imagine that 'The road to genius is paved with moments of madness'?

Or that perhaps 'The road to enlightenment is paved with used matchbooks'? Or with 'dead C batteries'? See?

See, I'm just rambling now. What is the source of that truism about the proverbial 'road to hell...'? I confess, I do not know. John Donne? Shakespeare? Alfred E. Neuman? Perhaps they also considered these other 'roads not taken' in their enlightened moments.

I'll tell you this much: I worked with a fellow not long ago who you would have guessed had the patent on that egregious phraseology-

 which, hopefully, will soon pass from the common vernacular into the bedarkened land of 'What Was' where forgotten characters of popular culture- Milli Vanilli and The Noid, for example -pass along the dirty sidewalks of even dirtier cities, giving each other dirty looks and muttering a cursory greeting of, 'Where's the beef?!?' and 'Fugeddaboutit!' then walk home to their dirty, rundown tenement flats and cry themselves to sleep each night moaning the lyrics to Flashdance(What A Feeling). Ewww, creepy...

because he used with every breath, like an addict! He enjoyed hearing himself say it so very much, I guess, he would interject it as the last word, the summation, the subject, verb and predicate, the crowning thought to every sentence.

Now, here's a thought... Maybe it was a great social experiment he was conducting all on his own, gauging the reaction to endless and meaningless repetition of the phrase to whomever he would meet. A social experiment the results and ramifications of which he alone is privy to... Maybe he actually did invent the phrase and now is doing his utmost to ensure it's survival in the everyday vocabulary of the population of the entire planet!

Frightening...