In his personal attempt, I suppose, to avoid the oft used,
trite proverbial symbols of “dogs and fleas,” “pigs and mud,”
this one poetically inclined lad writ as follows:
“Lay down with Milton, get up with Blake.”
After years of what seemed to be futile efforts
to improve the intellectual properties of his birthright,
this one guy drove a sign in at the edge of his head that said,
“Commercial Potential: Could be Rezoned.”
One little fellow, with what seems to be some sort of shifty,
supernatural grip on the universal untidiness of reality,
was last week quoted as saying that,
“Nature abhors a vacuum cleaner.”
Where land based, ordinary men seek knowledge
is in much argument, noise and debate.
Where the subversive pursue theirs is mostly silence.
Party Game With No Particular Political Alliance:
Question: How many brain cells does it take to change a light bulb,
or an opinion, or anything else for that matter?
Answer: Just as many as an ordinary man has operating at that moment.
The ghastly looking, hacking ole man, pretending to be dying,
pulled the kid up close to his ole man type face and said,
“I know your time with me ain’t been easy, and I understand
that much of what I’ve told you seemed vague, if not downright improbable,
but, cough-cough, just before I go let me leave you with this,
something on which you can always depend,
a mental anchor to secure your safety in the troubled waters
of ordinary, intellectual uncertainty – cough-hack –
you may forever and a fortnight rest assured that Anything
another man tells you is ‘absolutely true and correct’ is not.”
(And being so pleased with this final note, he went ahead and pretended to die.)