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Abstract

The 1980 presidential race was going to be close, they said -- too close to call. To obtain a logological view of the outcome, I paid a visit in September to my friend Dr. H. K. Wombat, an ologist in everything having to do with words and tongues. The diminutive authority received me in his study, the Marsupium, seated behind a wide desk piled high with Pauly-Wissowa, Du Cange and other arcane volumes. His tiny, sharp eyes belied the bluntness of his face. I knew that he had no mental fur except upon his chin.

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