if anyone needs me, I'll be behind the large green mantis in my back yard for a while.

I once sat for half an hour to watch a mantid stalk a ladybug. patient, cold, and implacable, the little green killer moved with alien grace over the lawn.

this, of course, was a diversion; the much larger mantis was behind me the whole time. in spite of the excruciating agony as it seized and devoured me, I was able to retain my sense of whimsy and critique its table manners.

pain makes fools of the wise, cowards of the strong, and bolognas of the pig.

time sings the same song, endless and inventive. it's only people like you who think it's freeform jazz.

In case you were wondering, your wonder is in a case. that way, in case of wonders, you're wonderfully cased.

Fortune favors the bold, but Business Week favors the italic.

Do you suffer from pleuresy? Grippe? Lumbago?

How would you know? I mean, what even are these things? Do they even exist, or are they euphemisms for common bodily functions that we used to be too polite to talk about?

Well, whatever. Dr.* Wittgenstein's All-Purpose Liquid Restorative will not only cure them, it will make you taller and less prone to awkward social encounters. Try some today! Recommended by people we've paid.

*Not an actual doctor. All models engaging in active sporty things in stock photos shown actual size. Not available in Latin.

Unlike a lot of Jewish women I'm not angry about my upbringing.

Also unlike a lot of Jewish women, I'm not Jewish. Or a woman.

How much for the Viking funeral?

What if I bring my own Viking?

I'm an optimist. When I get a loose tooth I go to the dentist to get it pushed.

The nominator goes on top, the denominator goes on bottom.

 oldviolin wrote:

I know they are, but what are we?

Don't forget to drop by the Fruit Of The Loom hospitality tent for your free soul patch and butt floss sample grab...

how many woodchucks would a chicken cut in half, if a chicken could cut woodchucks in half?

science says three. but that's science for you, taking all the mystery out of the irrelevant.

every New Year's Eve, I wonder the same thing; do we really have to do this again? it always ends with me looking for a 24-hour dentist and a lawyer who's passed the bar in Senegal.

the last time I was here, you
were indelicate; lively, wicked,
and savage - a cat hissing fire,
a demon with reading glasses and a
"Logan's Run" tattoo in bright ironic scarlet.
you told me you loved three things;
epic haiku,
abrupt transitions,
and the singular feeling of being
the only one who knew the joke.

I went on a quest once. it was not bad; dragons, treasure, a princess.

I probably should have read the manual, though. I wound up bringing home the dragon after slaying the princess. If I'd read the manual, I could have fireproofed my home and saved a lot of trouble.

my favorite pencil is the one that has the best eraser, because that's the one that tells the truest tale. every first draft is a lie, a gesture both pointing toward and distracting from the central truth. we are all guarded fortresses, and writers more than most.

when we talk about poetry,
we talk about rhythm, meter -
artifice, cold and airless.
but then the breath of god enters 
from the mouth of man,
and this bland confusion
finds its lost clarity,
as the tuning fork guiding to the note.

if you can imagine such a thing? of course I can. I'm ten times the thing you imagine I'd imagine, and that's on a dark and dreamless night of fever-sweat and sleepless sheets.