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That’s the New World for you!
The music stopped. She shrieked, “I FRY MINE IN BUTTER!”
“If such-and-such were the case in our surroundings, what then, what then?”
Lancelot Andrewes was the chief translator and para-phraser among the scholars who gave us the King James Bible.
Kurt LOVES translators.
When the tupelo Goes poop-a-lo, I’ll come back to youp-a-lo.
All male writers, incidentally, no matter how broke or otherwise objectionable, have pretty wives. Somebody should look into this.
crinkum-crankum,
Bashers, while ostensibly making sentence after sentence as efficient as possible, may actually be breaking down seeming doors and fences, cutting their ways through seeming barbed-wire entanglements, under fire and in an atmosphere of mustard gas, in search of answers to these eternal questions: “What in heck should we be doing? What in heck is really going on?”
I still quote Eugene Debs (1855–1926), late of Terre Haute, Indiana, five times the Socialist Party’s candidate for President, in every speech: “While there is a lower class I am in it, while there is a criminal element I am of it; while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.”
My big brother Bernie, the born scientist who may know more about the electrification of thunderstorms than anyone, has an invariably fatal cancer, too far advanced to be daunted by the Three Horsemen of the Oncologic Apocalypse, Surgery, Chemotherapy, and Radiation.
clinically bughouse.
Face it! Some women are!
Vonnewhat?
“Pictures are famous for their humanness, and not for their pictureness.”
Old beer in new bottles. Old jokes in new people.
I am too lazy to chase down the exact quotation, but the British astronomer Fred Hoyle said something to this effect: That believing in Darwin’s theoretical mechanisms of evolution was like believing that a hurricane could blow through a junkyard and build a Boeing 747. No matter what is doing the creating, I have to say that the giraffe and the rhinoceros are ridiculous.
For Christ’s sake, let’s help more of our frightened people get through this thing, whatever it is.
Kilgore’s Creed: “You were sick, but now you’re well again, and there’s work to do.”
Men loving men can happen, in peacetime as well as war.
Case of the not-gays?
Listen: We are here on Earth to fart around. Don’t let anybody tell you any different!
buckareenies
???
Guess what? TV is an eraser.
The only contemporary American writer we could think of who had given us a new word, and surely not because he is a famous pervert, which he isn’t, was Joseph Heller. The title of his first novel, Catch-22, is defined this way in my Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary: “A problematic situation for which the only solution is denied by a circumstance inherent in the problem.” Read the book!
I believe in original sin. I also believe in original virtue. Look around!
He said the pyramids and Stonehenge were built in a time of very feeble gravity, when boulders could be tossed around like sofa pillows, and people loved it.
Slapstick?
I picked two points of light maybe ten feet apart. One was Polaris. I have no idea what the other one was. For all I knew, it was Puke, Trout’s star the size of a BB.
When his son Terry had cancer of the throat, Bernie, ever the experimentalist, prayed for his recovery. Terry indeed survived.
