And still this other guy I met (who says his goal is to “write a column,” and if that doesn’t work out, to BE one), after looking thoughtful for awhile, propounded the following: said he: “Those who continue to confuse fear and good-taste will at least always have something to be afraid of.”
For those in a hurry with real good ears, the world’s shortest moralistic fable – ten words: The panting dog said, “You think I LIKE chasing cats?”
In a striking display of enthusiasm, if not electrified bile, one ole sorehead shouted out, “Okay, all you ‘forty-watters,’ if there IS any basis for believing in the benevolence of fate and the serendipity of chance, why don’t we ever just ‘accidentally’ spell a real hard word correctly?”
One well-honed father, in an attempt to encourage and in a coup de maitre of condensation, said to his son, “Why sweat it? Just look at this as a prelude to a conclusion.”
While over in Bill’s Bar, you know, over on Bill’s Planet, I overheard the following conversation: This one guy says, “I heard that over on Francine’s Planet they’ve banned erasers, apologies, delete keys, and correcting tape.” And his imbibing companion retorted, “Hell, why didn’t they save time and just outlaw brains.”
Okay, I’ll admit it…I’ll even say it for you – it’s hard to plan for a revolution.