Ninety Proof Proof


You can’t throw away glue…
(and if you can, it wasn’t real good glue to
start with.)



And now another exciting episode
in the continuing day-time, and part-time drama of
“Life In Blabberville”;
Our hero, recalling the subversive idea
regarding the “Ultimate Triumph Of Talk” suddenly realizes the futility of
being mechanically taciturn, but understands the benefit of remembering the
above very, very, very, very often.



Can you see that in intellectual worlds wherein power is perceived to be divided
between good, supreme gods, and evil, subordinate anti-gods, that men apparently
serving the former are perforce, unknowingly toiling for the lesser force.
(By now some of you should clearly realize that such as this is indicative of worlds
far beyond any ideas of irony, past any sense of justice, and outside the orbit even,
of truth and reality.)



In a world of limited (that is, known) dimensions,
no envelope can ever expand enough to hold itself.
Even as knowledge increases, man’s need equally expands,
and thus the needs are never filled.



Whilst conversing with a neighbor this one guy says,
“Frogmyer, if indeed that is your real name,
Frogmyer, there are three kinds of talk; motor, limbic, or cerebral,”
and his son broke in saying, “You forgot liquor!”
and the ole man realized that he himself was at least
ninety proof proof of the kid’s observation.


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