There is a place
where all records are kept,
but no one can get in.
Most info food is adequately cooked
by just blanching.
After the king discovered that the rebel leader, because of his “serious commitment,” couldn’t be bribed, or frightened by death, hired a band of unemployed polka musicians to go around and laugh at him…which settled the matter in short order.
In one City, the entire population is engaged in and undergoing “talking analysis,” and this includes all of those who’ve never even HEARD of a psychiatrist. (Oh yeah, that City is your City.)
One chap tried to tell himself that, “Those who cry at the inevitable might also cry at the evitable." (And who says some people talk too much.)