Will Rogers once:
a. met a man he didn’t like.
b. roller skated through Central Park with W. C. Fields.
c. pitched horseshoes for 9 straight hours with Charles Lindbergh.
d. mud wrestled with Zelda Fitzgerald.
e. ate pancakes off of solid gold plates with Babe Ruth.
*an example of ‘brain toy’, a dada effort to make something happen in your head when image and text meet in an unexpected manner.
Loon: I can only do what I can do when they bring me people I’m not too sure I’ve ever heard of for the 3 question interview. The Lords of the 4th Dimension delivered the weekly scrap of paper, and written on it was ‘mahatma gandhi’. I had no clue. But now that the apparition is floating here in front of me, I think I know what to ask. Tell me, sir, what do you think of Kipling? And let me just say that the interview will be terminated if you say you’ve never kippled.
Mahatma Gandhi’s ghost: Ah, Kipling. I believe that, given the opportunity, he might have made a splendid footman.
Loon: And along those lines, who else would have made a splendid footman?
Mahatma Gandhi’s ghost: Clark Gable, I do truly believe, would have been most popular with house parlor maids.
Loon: I agree. And finally, what is your favorite swim stroke?
Mahatma Gandhi’s ghost: I have always had a particular fondness for the meditative aspects of a soothing side stroke.
Loon: Thank you, and good day.
Mahatma Gandhi’s ghost: The pleasure was partially mine.
The sun was resting on the hill like a drop of blood on an eyelid …
Tom, the future full time poet, practices in prose. (from The Mayor of Casterbridge)
Yes sirree bob, that Em, she sure was a one for fishin’.
On the day of her marriage to the future Uncle Henry, the future Auntie Em (pictured above):
a. looked forward to the dream of exploring the Nile with her beloved.
b. looked forward to Henry selling the farm and moving with her to Chicago.
c. looked forward to a lifetime of drudgery with a twinkle in her eye.
d. hoped her Maid of Honor, Miss Gulch, would one day be as happy as happy could be.
e. was in a hurry to get the ceremony finished so she could go fishing.
Spice Island Hal sashayed into the local beverage dispensary and partook of nectars sufficient to render him incapable of movement. Whereupon Portugese Nell Pasternak, entwined overhead in a complicated arrangement of chandeliers, brought forth the following tapestry of speech:
“And the flaccid tentacles of night descend
Entrusting our hope to a writhing dawn
Oh when, oh where, oh why, oh what
Can truth be leveraged under its oily sheen?
And what about the moth?
Oh, the moth and I despair.”
Silence followed. Then noise, silence, noise, noise, silence, noise, silence, silence, atomization, star formation, and a new chance for secret robots to make nice with eternity.
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Doc's Lunacy
5 of 5 stars to The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton goodreads.com/review/show/55…
