You have truly joined the Revolution when you realize you’ve started something you cannot finish.
The once-and-sometimes, mighty leader of one fearful, faceless barbaric horde cried out each morning, “At peril of my snarling wrath, may ye never forget: at the first sign of success – RETREAT!”
I propose for our “Ole Sore-Head Of The Week” Award the gent who last night was heard to say that while “Waiting for his ship to come in someone stole the ocean.” (One of his caliber may not often pass this way…instead of “may” perhaps I might say “shouldn’t.”)
At one of those erratic, unscheduled “God Conventions,” one of them stood and said, “May I offer a suggestion?” And another asked, “Is that anything like criticism?” And the first one replied, “Well, I guess you could say that.” (All that was then heard in the hall was the sound of seven hundred guns being drawn.)
One semi-sparkling squire, after a certain exposure to certain subversive data like this, mused, “It somewhat strikes moi as a ‘robbing of Peter so as to teach Peter a lesson.’”