Last Monday, over near that other place, I heard a fellow say that trying to be truly intelligent under ordinary conditions was like having a forty acre farm on thirty-five acres.



This week’s Come-On-And-Let’s-Stick-It-To-Words gambit, to wit:
Is anything truly “misplaced” until you realize it is?

Okay, Brandenburg Variation, Opus One:
Is anything actually “misspent” until such later time as you might come up a penny short?



Under local conditions of this planet, “true love” would seem to be a passion A has for B that drives B nuts.  (Or did I miss something?)



Questions rococo, answers terse.  (Oh, okay, we can execute a 3-D expansion of this and admit to the validity of its vicey versey?)



First Voice:      “Remember, you get what you pay for.”
Second One:   “Don’t threaten me!”