Bullets Can't Remember

A certain intergalactic gadabout, sotto voce, told me that in his desire to remain widely welcome in his travels, and true to his allegiance to progress, that in the many conflicts that arise here and everywhere, between “bullets and the flesh” he always sides with flesh, inasmuch as bullets can’t remember and the flesh never forgets.



While accidentally attending an unfitted seminar over near the Zone Seven landfill, a gentleman cornered me in the hall, between the unscheduled lectures, and told me that he was almost “certainly certain that god is trying to communicate with man through human speech.”



Allegory Alert Code Beta-Green:

Or, Can Similitudes Ever Be Safely Predicted In Reference To Their Obese, One Legged, Hunch-backed, and Otherwise, Generally Unattractive Ruler.  One of the mistresses said to her sister, “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen him naked, and then you no longer want to.”



Another deity I met, (whose family coat-of-arms bears the epigram, “We Don’t Mind Being Devine”), said he would have heard of my other recorded notations regarding his particular undertaking, and he said he wanted to go on record by stating that what he liked best about being a god is that “every day is pay day.”  (Oh, and he also adds, “Plus, you can’t be fired.”)



A certain burly green grocer, obviously miscomprehending the intent of the phrase, has, upon hearing the axiom, “Looks can kill,” studiously avoided all mirrors.