Final Word Friday

At the birthday bash his creatures threw for him, this one god got a bit, shall we say—tipsy – became malt-moved-magnanimous and made the following revelation, “Ah, my little beings, my smallish friends; when malicious things occur in your lives, existence itself seems malevolent, but when pleasure is your personal attendant, all of life becomes exquisite.”  (Man, you can just imagine how upset they were upon hearing that someone had forgotten to bring the tape deck.)


The ultimate corruption
of acts is facts;
their salvation, the same.


One guy had so much fun he
didn’t come back. (“Yeah,
but some of those left here
could still smell him.”)


If you’re going to wait
for the final word,
at least resist
the urge to do so.


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