One guy said, "Jeeze, it's hell bein' ugly," and his partner (always the helpful sort) noted, "Yeah, but at least we don't have to look at us."
On special occasions, just to entertain the kiddies, one ole guy would reverse his frontal lobes; some of the wee ones were more entertained than others, especially those who could tell the difference.
Another faithful reader writes and says he's now convinced that half of what I say is true, though meaningless, and the other half super true and downright dangerous; he says he'll send me his own personal, post-dated check, for some amount, if I'll just tell him which half is which.
Thinking of This Kinda Stuff as an intellectual aerial act, you could then find a sort of progression going from, "doing it without a net," to "doing it without a trapeze," on to the climax of doing it without benefit of gravity, atmosphere, or audience.
There’s a guy on the phone who says he’s John Milton – Yes, that John Milton. He says we won’t believe where he’s calling from and sure won’t believe the phone bill we’ll be getting.