In City buildings and institutions
the doors of seriousness guard
the hallways of disappointment.


One man developed so many sores in his mouth that he took the most immediate remedial course of reactions by renaming his oral cavity his “sore,” and saying that therein he had a little painful mouth.  (A passer-by said, “That reminds me:  There is a way to get out of EVERY thing, but sometimes it gets you in deeper.)


One City’s civic slogan for leap years:

“If men were granted the ability
to see the ultimate results of
their present folly, many more
would dye their hair.”


Only one person can validly say, “Don’t take it personally, but I don’t like you.”  “Now for the matching set of lug wrenches – who is it…’Hey Bozo – what chu lookin’ around for?’”)


Got a note this morning from a gent over in the City, who claims that after following some of my intellectual maps for awhile, that he has just realized he now hardly ever thinks about those very, several things that everybody does constantly.


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