grasswire
52. I think I know the DU troll identity.
And I am shocked. But -- as a long-time forensic editor -- I recognize the speech patterns after reading his stuff on FR. There is a tell. A tell.
That's hilarious!
Poor, addled grasswire, trundling around town, bundled up in three overcoats even in summer, muttering about a pie shop as she pulls her little red wagon piled high with junk salvaged from the trash set out by normal folks.
She's becoming a common sight along the byways of Milwaukie, Oregon, and none of he normal folks have any idea what she does.
She's a forensic editor! That's the ticket! Through the heavy cobwebs of misfiring synapses, tomorrow she may be a molecular biologist, or a psychic.
She recognizes a troll from his speech patterns. She's the first DUmmy to realize that The Magistrate is actually franksolich, and she's shocked!
His carefully crafted cover has been blown, and this is truly a sad day.
Coach is good, but he's no match for the addled, mumbling grasswire.