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said that if fire was a discovery, then pockets were also a discovery, because pockets are like the ass cracks of pants, some caveman put his hand between his buttocks and decided, ‘Hey! I can keep my keys here! We should have these in our clothes!’ ”
Bodil Malmsten
“Where does the poop go?” “Excuse me?” “The poop people poop on the train, where does it go?” Ted clears his throat the way the most uncomfortable man in the world would clear his throat. “I… I assume there’s some sort of container beneath the train.” “What happens if that gets full, then? Do they just empty the poop onto the tracks, or what?” He looks almost shocked by the idea. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She thinks for a long time before asking, very seriously: “What if it’s really windy outside? So if you were walking next to the rails, you’d get a poop tornado right in your face?” “I’ve never
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Marina Abramović:
footsteps behind them and Joar turned around like he always did, fists clenched, prepared for war. The minister walking down the aisle jumped in surprise. “Terribly sorry, you startled me,” he smiled. “Don’t creep up on people in churches, you psychopath!” Joar roared back at him. “I… work here,” the minister said in his defense. “Like I care, you psychopath!” Joar pointed out. The minister looked like he didn’t exactly know what to do with that information. So instead he turned sympathetically toward Ted and said: “I’m very sorry for the loss of your father.” “What for? Was it you who killed
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Zeuxis and Parrhasius,
Donna Tartt

