Is it green or is it red?
Or is it playing with my head?
Whether it is red or green
I can’t decide. What can it mean?
I’m looking at it from my bed.
And yet what is it? Green or red?
Green or red? Red or green?
I’ll banish thought. Away! Sweep clean!
red
green
ARRGGHHH!
Here is a still from the first view through the camera attached to the head of a local sasquatch. The loon, on discovering slumbering sasquatch under a gully hedge, managed to install the device without awakening the huge hairy monster. The loon is looking forward to viewing much more tromping through the woods.
Loon: Now we’re talking. Freaks in the circus and stuff. Mr. P. T. Barnum is in the house. Now I know the P stands for Philip, but what does the T stand for?
P. T. Barnum’s ghost: The P does not stand for Philip.
Loon: It doesn’t?
P. T. Barnum’s ghost: No sir, it most certainly and miraculously does not!
Loon: How about Paul?
P. T. Barnum’s ghost: Not Paul. No, not Paul, not by the lengthiest stretch of your imagination.
Loon: Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. That’s 3 questions for this week. Come back next week when once again we will probe in depth the secret mysteries of the land beyond the grave.
P. T. Barnum’s ghost: Well said.
Loon: It’s over. Shut up.
I had been to school most all the time, and I could spell, and read, and write just a little, and could say the multiplication table up to six times seven is thirty-five, and I don’t reckon I could ever get any further than that if I was to live forever.
That’s a fine sentence, Sam. Mighty fine.
Joe E. Brown:
a. rolled a wheelbarrow filled with his weight in marbles off the end of the Santa Monica pier.
b. ,in his first season playing pro baseball, pulled off an unassisted triple play after lunging like a fish at a looper in front of second base and catching it in his mouth.
c. taught Bing Crosby how to fence.
d. spent years knitting the longest scarf ever.
e. insisted on being paid in kelp.
Hey, little fella, appreciate the hair. It’s only going to be there, give or take six months, for 15 more years.
When my life stash of learning I dump and sift
From the trash heap resultant I’m able to lift
A three word phrase, a whimsical gift
The three words are random, genetic, and drift
This was the last thing seen by the unsuspecting stag before it was eaten by angry suction leaves. Oh, friends and foes, beware the bush triffid.
Loon: Today I’m pleased to announce they’ve brought me for the 3 Question Interview a writer named Burt Monokat … Huh? … Oh, it’s what? … Kurt Vonnegut? Okay, whatever. Anyway, Mr. Vonnegut, here’s my first question for you. Boxers or briefs?
Vonnegut’s Ghost: Depends.
Loon: Diapers? You wore diapers?
Vonnegut’s Ghost: No, no. Whether I wore boxers or briefs depended entirely on what phase of my life we’re discussing.
Loon: So you want me to narrow it down, do you?
Vonnegut’s Ghost: I don’t want you to do anything.
Loon: Fine, I won’t do anything then. That’s 3 questions anyway.
Vonnegut’s Ghost: Fine.
Loon: Fine.
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Doc's Lunacy
5 of 5 stars to The Great Train Robbery by Michael Crichton goodreads.com/review/show/55…
