There’s this one galaxy where everything’s a fluke.
When a lieutenant reported that a recent battle was a “milepost” in the war, a deaf general exploded, “Fuck a mildpost – what I want is a HOTpost!”
One afternoon, while discussing things uncommon and tenuous, the old man used the word, “mythology,” and one son said, “Sure, a myth is something that’s not true,” and his brother, corrected him, “No, you’re thinking of facts.” (And the old man was sorely pleased.)
There’s this group of creatures on that other planet over there, who may be on to something of transitory use, if not inverted ephemeral fun. They present the idea that you should first think up a slogan and then figure out a business to go along with it.
One guy always would say, “No, please don’t ask me to sing – please don’t,” and they didn’t.