in Life’s R & D Department
has resulted in many contemporary people
having an experimental engine in their pants.
(Note: Some wear their trousers lower than others.)
A little after two, last Sunday, I was sitting in the park next to a guy on a bench close to Monday, and after a bit of routine chit-chit-chat he confided to me that he now wished he had a kid so that he could pass on some advice he had finally gleaned from his life’s observations. After tossing a few more peanuts back toward Saturday he told me what was on his mind; he said, “You should be most wary-of, or at least fascinated by, a man who you’re sure knows something astounding and yet it has nothing to do with you.”
(I suddenly yearned for the return of the pigeons.)
A guy with a black car says he hasn’t had his damaged front end repaired for fear they can’t match the paint. Some body and fender men may not grasp the metaphorical treasure herein, but by some token, politicians and priests are the last to know, and cobblers STILL don’t understand why shoes work.
Down under the City lights is a contemporary, secondary thinker whose latest contribution is the notion that, “All religions, philosophies and the sciences are attempts to overlay a world of ‘real chaos’ with patterns of imaginary chaos.”
Someone faxed me a memo
suggesting that I attach a “Manufacturer’s Notice”
to my comments and stories saying,
“For Optimum Benefit You Should Not Take Any
Of These Items Personally…Unless You Can.”