It Stopped Clicking! Thank Goodness For The Antipsychotics!
So, you ask, "What's wrong with shit, anyway?" Well, it's really badly designed, for one thing.
(looks at watch: 7:36 pm. takes piece of paper labeled '7:36 pm' out of pocket and unfolds it. reads aloud: 'time to curl up in a ball'.)
I traveled into the future and damned if my favorite bar hadn't just locked its door. "You better go back," the bartender said, holding up his hours-of-operation sign. It said, 'open 1750 - 2007, weekdays', closed through the double glass. "I don't think there's anybody who stays open this late."
Sasquatch for dinner. I don't feel fitter. Sit at the plate and sulk.
Just like the story about the little crippled boy who prayed just as hard as he could that God did not exist. And he was always very good and obeyed his parents and so his prayer was answered.
Tar and feather beds, just like in illness magazines.
Well, I guess I was a-drinking again. My neighbors tell me that this time I was a-running my old time machine full-bore inside of my other time machine with each one a-going in the opposite direction. Well sir, things was rolling along just fine until I guess I went and crashed the whole damned mess into a telephone pole. So now these days it seems I just get one repair job all paid for and straightened out with the county when thirty or forty more just seem to pop up out from nowhere. And of course now I got so much stress, I got to get myself drunk just to go out and pick up the mail.
(looks at watch: 7:36 pm. takes piece of paper labeled '7:36 pm' out of pocket and unfolds it. reads aloud: 'time to curl up in a ball'.)
I traveled into the future and damned if my favorite bar hadn't just locked its door. "You better go back," the bartender said, holding up his hours-of-operation sign. It said, 'open 1750 - 2007, weekdays', closed through the double glass. "I don't think there's anybody who stays open this late."
Sasquatch for dinner. I don't feel fitter. Sit at the plate and sulk.
Just like the story about the little crippled boy who prayed just as hard as he could that God did not exist. And he was always very good and obeyed his parents and so his prayer was answered.
Tar and feather beds, just like in illness magazines.
Well, I guess I was a-drinking again. My neighbors tell me that this time I was a-running my old time machine full-bore inside of my other time machine with each one a-going in the opposite direction. Well sir, things was rolling along just fine until I guess I went and crashed the whole damned mess into a telephone pole. So now these days it seems I just get one repair job all paid for and straightened out with the county when thirty or forty more just seem to pop up out from nowhere. And of course now I got so much stress, I got to get myself drunk just to go out and pick up the mail.
posted by Noncommutativity at 12:17 PM
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