The Universe is a Tricycle

A fellow writes The News:

     “After hearing all of your many and far-reaching comments regarding seriousness, I’d like to ask you this:  Can I at least take death to be a serious matter?  Yours, etc.”
Dear Fellow:  “Why Certainly.”

Down in the village tavern, a critic of court told a companion:

“I suspect that the greatest ploy ever played by the king’s Intelligence Agency, was in surreptitiously promoting, amongst the people, the belief that they were little more than bumbling incompetents, worthy only of ridicule.” 
His table mate thought for a moment and said, “That sounds a lot like my mind.”

A hobby with more frequent payoffs than even “lightning spotting,” is that if you’ll Look Around you’ll always see some irony.  This universe is a tricycle, and to the ordinary eyes, one of the wheels always “acts funny.”

On special occasions, this man would roll up his best hormones into a pack, (like candy), and call them, “Tootsie Baby-Bundles,” and pass them out to his friends.

Raise the bridges and let another definition through:
A Revolutionist: Someone who doesn’t compare himself with anybody.


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