The Guy in Dusseldorf

Yet another way (if one is truly needed), to gauge your “dumb potential” is to ask yourself this question, “Do you tend to talk just a bit more in areas in which you do have some knowledge?”  Tut tut.

 

 

Heard another one of those ole soreheads declaim, “Seems like all our gods are determined to stay invisible, and untouchable; that’s just so’s you can’t get your hands on ‘em when they deserve it.”

 

 

There’s this guy in Dusseldorf who actually seems to know what he’s doing…(at least it sometimes appears so.)

 

 

In the City, I must have seen a hundred poems that speak of sleep as the “brother” or “sister of death,” yet why no verses that mention the kin of the daytime hours?  What’s the matter…chicken?

 

 

After a lengthy, stinging criticism of something or other, one City pundit concluded by screaming, “Would we even recognize the truth if it ran up and bit us on the ass?!”  I slid further down on my cool sheets, under my warm blanket, and smiled at the ceiling.

J

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