Shoot-Out At Cosmic Corral

With little enthusiasm does death come…
that is why it is death.

 

In a pathetic – I’m sorry, I meant “paternal” attempt
to cheer the little rascal up, one father noted,
“Well kid, you can at least remember (ha-ha)
that a man without a brain hasn’t got anything
to worry about – (ha-ha).”

 

I heard the following recently from a new ole sore head,
(he didn’t per-zactly fit the routine mold for such critters,
so what else would we call him – how’s it goin’ – aye?),
any-how, here’s what he had to say, (and as you damn
well should know – “and I quote”):
“Anyone who would talk about their private life
ain’t GOT one worth talking about!”

 

The air in the closet is IN the closet.

 

Yesterday’s shoot-out, down at the Cosmic Corral,
was based on a disagreement over the best antonym
for the word “variety.” The Old Timer insisted on “uniformity,”
while the Young Kid From Parts Unknown slapped his
leather in favor of the word, “death.”

J.