The Life Phone

Every word
has its own unique color
except the word “color.”
 (Justice will be served
in the 3-D dining room
no matter who’s present,
absent, late or un-hungry.)

 

An unnamed source has leaked a story that says a certain writer is immersed in Star Chamber proceedings against him by the Inner City Literary Guild; his apparent offense is that he proposed that all authors, whenever they reach an area in their writings wherein they lack any substantive knowledge, would leave a number of blank pages, (the exact count to be properly reflective of the extent of their ignorance).  (Perhaps unrelated, but you may recall that several weeks ago a spokesman for the Guild announced that they had suspended capital punishment as one of their organizational reprimands.)

 

To pursue the Revolutionist grail you must, in times of need, be prepared to eat your own foot; (in times of plenty, you must likewise be prepared to realize there are no times of plenty afoot).

 

This one particular chap one day said to his partner, “Boy, you’d really be scared if you knew what I know.”  To which his partner replied, “What do you mean, ‘if’ – look at me – how do you think I got this pale – carrying buckets of water?”

 

One guy, off on his own,
developed an apparatus he called,
The Life Phone.  (It didn’t work,
but he called it that just the same.)

J.

 

 

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