To be glib, medieval Ireland sounds like a somewhat crazed Wisconsin, in which every dairy farm is an armed camp at perpetual war with its neighbors, and every farmer claims he is king.
Totally rad! Warring Wisconsin farmers! Nacho cheese! Anarchy!
But ...
"To be glib" is a sucky way to start any sentence. "Guys! Hold on. Just to warn you, I'm about to be seriously glib. So I don't want you to get carried away with what I'm saying. It's just glibness. Okay? Here we go!"
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