For Philly Who Unfortunately
Already Had A Boyfriend When I Met Her
In 1983,
Roger Waters took a look at Pete Townshend, saw a musician who left a band and
went on to a hit-making solo career, and thought, "I can do that." He
couldn't, and he's still not forgiven the world.
The Germans killed Roger
Waters' father during the 2nd World War; this is the most important aspect of
that particular conflict. In certain non-Euclidean geometries, it is a fact
that 1 > 6,000,000.
Syd Barrett and Roger Waters:
Invention, creativity, toxicity, domination, eccentricity, intelligence:
The first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.
In January 1985, Bob Geldof
called Roger Waters to see if Pink Floyd could perform at a summer event to be
called 'Live Aid' that concerned Ethiopian famine. Waters said, "I'm all
in favour of famines, but unfortunately David Gilmour is dead to me," and
hung up before Geldof could explain the concert would be against famine. Only
later did Waters discover that the money raised went to none other than the
famed genocidal communist famine-author Mengistu Haile Mariam. Oh, how Waters
kicked himself for putting his personal opinions ahead of the good of the Party!
***********
There
it was again, that certain slant of light.
Ellie
Greenwich sat in her kitchen--her parent's
kitchen, as she'd started to call it--in May of 1958. The light cut across her
parent's Formica table diagonally. She was looking at the light before she
turned her attention to the source of the light--which was not the sun, but the
boy next door.
There
had to be a song in it somewhere.
Her
sister was out there weeding the garden, turning the soil, and wetting the
seedlings. Her shorts were short and her blouse was obviously too thin for the
cold.
The
boy next door came out of the house next door. Ellie focussed jetly upon him,
but it had no effect. He went to the fence, and called to Ellie's sister, who
also went to the fence. Ellie was invisible and mute.
A
couple hours later, Ellie's sister returned from her visit next door. She was
energetic, happy, flush. Ellie herself was quiet all
that evening and all next day.
Seven
years later, Ellie was introduced in
***********
One
day, he'll come knocking on my door. He'll knock and knock until I answer. He
may knock for a week, a month, a year or more. Still the knocking will be
happening, and I'll be hearing the knocking even if I go to the other side of
the apartment. Knock, knock, knock, sometimes as fast as my beating heart, or
sometimes as slow as a clock's tick. All I know is the knocking won't stop
until I answer the door.
He'll
say, "It's time. You have to come with me."
"How
much time do I have?"
"You
time is up. Come along."
"There's
just something I have to do."
"You
have to leave it behind. Everyone has to leave things behind."
"What
about Yukio Mishima?"
"That
was drama."
"What
about Sylvia Plath?"
"That
was an accident."
"Was
it?"
"That's
what Alvarez thinks. Look, you're stalling. Come on. I've got a lot to do
today."
"There's
something not quite fair about all this."
"You
seem to have mistaken me for a judge. I am no judge."
"There's
got to be a loophole somewhere. I can't-"
"Come
ON!"
.......On
the other hand, I may answer the door as quickly as possible.......
***********
It
was a fine afternoon at the Arecibo Observatory. Doctors Smith and Jones were
looking for anomalies as outside the sweet birds sang. The 'scope had expanded
its reception to the very limits of the spectrum, way out there--swimming in
the delta waves--and let me tell you there's a lot of clutter to cut through.
So there we are.
Smith
threw down his pencil. "I can't get rid of all these anomalies!"
Jones
came over handwringingly. "Perhaps it's nonanomalous. It could be ... systemic."
"All
this weirdo data are coming from ... our own planet."
"That
makes no sense. The big dish is s'posed to miss all our junk."
Smith
picked up his pencil so he could throw it down again, twice. "Lemme
holoscolapitulitize the data. Perhaps we can get an idea where all this
power is coming from."
Smith
holoscolapitulitized the data and created a map of the sources. They clustered
oddly in two dimensions.
Jones
said, "A hunch. Overlay this on a map of the western hemisphere."
Thus
was done; the clusters corresponded to populous areas.
"It
looks like ... humans create the most distillate energy ever known."
"That
can't be true.... We are but ashes!"
***********
As
a respite, Reginald and Geoffrey enjoyed a 'breather' in one of the saunas.
They were at the Oasis Lounge, on
Reginald
said, "I must say I am abhorred by the commonplace referent
'wife-swapping' when it is used to speak of our present exchange."
"Hear,
hear! Defensible self-interest means a benefit to both parties, both you and
me. This became clear to me in the minutes after my John-Thomas exploded in
your wife's mouth."
"Indeed,
I know precisely how it works. Recall Bastiat's elaboration of Smith. Wealth,
created solely through exchange, to have any moral basis must involve....
Sorry, lost my train of thought, thinking as I am of your wife's soft vulva and
its taste on my tongue."
"Do
you recall how our eyes met beneficially, with low deficit and great asset, in
that sublime moment when all were engaged in coitus more ferarum?"
"How
much richer we are now! If only there was some
Their
wives, looking lovely as naiads, came in to the sauna. "Fellows,"
greeted Beatrice.
"To
what do we owe this pleasure?" inquired Geoffrey.
Imogene
chuckled. "Husband-swapping œconomics!"
***********
I to this day
do not know if only I heard it or if we all heard it or if I did not hear it at
all or if we all did not hear it at all. Out on a road near a pond we all went,
in our cars, late at night, to hear the sound. Free of moms and dads and in our
teens we were, and there we stood as mute as we could so we could hear the
strange hum on the road. We all thought it came from the south, and yet if one
of us walked south the noise would leave. It was as if the sound came from a
place that was not any where; this is why we were all sure it was a ghost that
hummed the sound. What else if not a ghost? The sound was like a wire pierced
by wind; we tried to say what it was but we all failed to a man. And yet since
we got away from moms and dads we said we heard it free. This took place long
in the past. To this day I do not know I heard the thing.
***********
Θεαίτητος: I just
don't understand why Bernie Sanders is so popular!
Σωκράτης: It appears you
believe your ignorance is proof of something.
Θεαίτητος: I am a
reasonable man, ignoring your veiled insult. What I am saying is that I, as a
reasonable man, cannot believe other minds have cogent arguments supporting
Sanders.
Σωκράτης: I don't think
your fallacy has been accounted for in the rubric of logical error. You have
just created the "Argument from Ignorance."
Θεαίτητος: I am an
artist!
Σωκράτης: Not so fast,
Silky-Loins. Your argument is the worst of the worst. O, how the world has
fallen! I suppose we are in the Pressboard Age.
Θεαίτητος: Wait,
wait, wait. Does it not matter that I, reasonable man
that I am, cannot understand something?
Σωκράτης: The result
would be to discount to nullity the knowledge of others. The result would be a
pure power struggle, beyond philosophy.
Θεαίτητος: What if
I am not interested in philosophy?
Σωκράτης: Then I suppose
you've stepped into the wrong dialogue. Go discourse with a Tyrant of Syracuse.
Θεαίτητος: I don't
understand why you're being so hostile.
Σωκράτης: There you go
again.
Θεαίτητος: This is
not one of your better dialogues.
Σωκράτης: GIGO.
***********
3 X 17 = 51 (Dave Bartholomew and Jewel
King, Thirty Years On)
Yes I'm three
times seventeen, just made fifty-one
Now I'm three
times seventeen, just made fifty-one
I'm staying at
home to have myself some fun
Come on baby,
let's watch some TV please
Come on baby,
let's watch some TV please
Now that I'm
an elder I just got to rest my knees
[scat: of mumbling, drooling, non sequiturs, half-remembered
names, regrets brought up at the most inappropriate times, impotent rages, I
forget the rest]
[tenor saxophone solo, during which I think how I complain
vividly about the tedium of my life while at the same time lament that it will
end soon, during which I think about all the opportunities I completely blew,
irrevocably ruined, or arrogantly pissed away]
If I have to
look way back to see when I did done, ain't nobody's business 'case I just made
fifty-one
I'm three
times seventeen just made fifty-one
Staying in
baby to have myself some fun
If I fall
asleep baby don't be mad at me
well now fall asleep baby don't be mad at
me
'Cause I
failed to launch, I'm a lazy and a used-to-be
***********
Today I read a monograph, 'twas called
"The Conscious Mind"
'Twas all about how language rose from
out primordy slime
And made us think we all had selves
(illusiorily)
And shaped ourselves to falsely think
we had autonomy
The book itself was written in a
language clear and fine
It answered many questions, but none of
them was mine
Was mine
None of them was mine
A television flick I saw about two
lovers true
Escaping from the villains ('xactly why
I never knew)
Until upon a beach in
They fell upon the sand and then
intently pressed their faces;
The flick itself was pretty with a
mise-en-scène so fine
It answered many questions, but none of
them was mine
Was mine
None of them was mine
I went to hear a bishop preach about
the worldly ways
And he explained it plainly how we're
at the end-of-days
He told us of our origins, and how we
came to be
And told us 'bout that blessed thing
they call autonomy
The pontiff thus enlightened us with
rhetoric so fine
He answered many questions, but none of
them was mine
Was mine
None of them was mine
***********
¶You recall, truthfully, the beginning, when one of your
father's sperm merged with one of your mother's ova ¶You were there, weren't you, when the
matrix opened and you had your first good cry ¶Recall now your first
step, with your hands away from any support, one foot lifted then the other
foot lifted ¶Recall now the pride you felt having conquered spelling, the times
table, clocks, maps, fire and water ¶Remember it, the time you almost went mad
with desire for another person, cursing that you couldn't think of anything
else and felt about to die ¶And you're certain to recall when you were forced
to make a choice for no good reason, when A equalled B but you couldn't have
both, forever and ever and ever ¶There you were when that pain in your side you
expected to go away did not go away ¶Remember the day you no longer knew who
the people winning popularity contests (Emmys, Grammys, Oscars) were ¶And there
was a time, some time ago, when you noticed that everyone older than you was
gone ¶And there you were, at the moment of your death, alone ¶remember remember
when ¶You were there, always there
***********
‑What else has to be packed,
Mother? We got most of the stuff.
‑Oh Father, I've barely started
the bathrooms.
‑We can get all that along the
way or when we get there. It's just toothpaste, bandages. Fifty bucks tops.
‑I'm sure there's something of
value in there. Come along.
‑I don't see anything here. Like I said.
‑Look, Father. Look at this comb. This was Mary's
comb.
‑We don't have to keep every
little memory, do we? I loved the girl too but there has to be limits.
‑How can you be so mean?
‑We have to be going. The 'bus
won't wait for us.
‑I want to take this comb.
‑Then take the comb. Anything else?
‑Can't you be patient for once? I
have to check the stove. Go away for a while.
‑Why check the stove? It's going
to be incinerated like everything else.
‑I'll feel better if I check the
stove.
‑In three days it'll be molten
elements.
‑That's three whole days, Father.
I need peace of mind.
‑All done now?
‑Yes. Lock the door.
‑Why?
‑Just lock the door, Father.
And away they went, looking back at the
planet Earth, for the last time, forever.
***********
There
was a strike, and I was on the picket line. Someone said something about
needing some goons.
Then
I was at a dinner party, me and my shrink. There were three other people there;
they had their shrinks there too.
Then
I was the King of some place; everyone was trying to poison me. What had I
done? Paranoia.
I
gave cameras to monkeys and put the pictures on exhibit at the Brackett
Gallery. (Why the Brackett Gallery?)
Jean
and Joan‑talking to one I remember, while the other stared jealously.
Then
I was asking Beatrice Somebody if she wanted to go to bed with me.
I
was known as Jones and I crushed a faerie in a garden.
Then
I was on a ferry going to
My
sister and me wanted to see a movie, but the movie
house was being bombed.
I
burned a lot of paintings once; I could smell the smoke, three years later.
The
federale arrived. They didn't like my tempi, they didn't like my keys.
How
can I be remembering all these dreams today of all days? That I can must prove
something divine.
***********
Wealth o' Nations
"My
son: long ago, your
great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather
took a notion in his head, and this notion was this: to build an automobile,
from scratch.
"He
had the notion that some kind of hard material was necessary to make the body
that would sit upon the wheels. By chance, someone mentioned metals.
"He
died before he got any further, but your
great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather
continued his work. He searched for metal everywhere, and discovered it was
often found in underground rocks. He dug for fifty years, getting nice-looking
rocks.
"Your
great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather
continued the work. He thought: 'Can one melt rock?' It was a chore, but still
he managed to concentrate heat to five hundred degrees: but died in the
process.
"Let's
skip some centuries. Your
great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather hammered and
beat metal into shapes that looked moderately automobile-like, but the pieces
wouldn't stick together. So he, his son, and his son's son worked on making
bolts.
"I
am called to make a 'wrench.' Fortunately your
great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather
discovered 'measurements,' God rest his soul.
"And
you, my son, will have your own son, and together you will continue the
work."
"But
dad: I'm gay."
"What?!? Oh well. It was a dumb idea to begin
with."
***********
Prayer
for St. Francis of
St. Francis: do you know how I want to know you?
Mary's aunt‑you know her‑Sister Helen MacDonell,
Of your order, of OSF, St. Elizabeth House,
Go
you John into our library and find a book
About
St. Francis. We
have plenty to look over.
I noted some titles there, and through amazon.ca
I found a book there
called Francis of Assisi
The
Life and Afterlife of a Medieval Saint
And I put in the order at the same time
As I sent her Evelyn Waugh's devotional novel
Now it is Friday (which is meaningful I think)
And I haven't seen her since Tuesday, in
Where we parted ways, she into the clinic
To see about the thing on her octogenarian nose
And we across
When we came out her car was gone and later we learned
Whatever it was wasn't nose cancer, God bless.
The biography about you, Francis, was supposed to come today:
But it didn't; what are you trying to tell me?
***********
I'm burning for you tonight, Cheryl
Lancastle,
I'm burning to see you as you were,
I burn to see you with these old eyes
As I used to see you when I wanted so
much
To kiss you, when I said I wanted to
kiss you
And you kissed me, right there on the
street.
Why didn't I; why didn't you?
If we hadn't been junkies‑if we'd
not been ourselves‑
O your chestnut hair, your pretty face‑
Cheryl Lancastle, I hope you're still
alive
Because I have something to tell you
That's not what can be written here
This junkie here is melancholy here
Because if I had said clearly that I
loved you
Cheryl Lancastle
You would have said yes to me.
This is the sense of death, this is the
sense that
One's missed something, this is the
sense that
She loved me but I didn't do anything
about it
That there on Avenue Road when I said I
really wanted to kiss you
You kissed me.
Cheryl, Oh Cheryl: do you ever think of
me?
Do you love me like you did back there
on Avenue Road?
This is the sense of death: me here,
you where
***********
Jorge Luis Borges, Author of William
Shakespeare
While
we were wandering through the Plaza San Martin, Bioy Casares made to me an
interesting observation. "You have had a hand in the popularization of
Shakespeare in the Spanish-speaking world. In a sense, our Spanish-speaking
sense of Shakespeare comes from your avant-garde influence; it is no longer
possible to see Shakespeare in the Spanish-speaking world; we can see only Luis
Borges's Shakespeare."
I
thought he was almost certainly exaggerating for a moment, but then I got to considering this almost impossible idea. As with my
character Pierre Menard, or perhaps how Kafka created his own predecessors,
thereby altering them forever, it is possible to alter the past irrevocably if
one is a powerful enough intellect.
I
said, "Here in the Plaza, we are seeing plants unknown in the old world.
These plants, no doubt, have influenced my ideas about William Shakespeare.
Perhaps we are living in Caliban's Savage-speaking translation of The
Tempest."
We
then went on to consider a Spanish-language translation of Tobias Smollet's
English-language translation of Miguel de Cervantes's Don Quixote; it would be
a very different, and longer, book; we furthermore wondered how the Don's
surname would be properly pronounced.
***********
Voiceovers for Terrence Malick to use
MUST GIVE CREDIT
God. How did you get to be so big? What
were you like as a little baby? Did you cry a lot?
This path I'm
on, it's in the dark woods, and it doesn't seem like a path. I should drop some
scat.
Do you
remember the child you once were? Do you wish you could punch him in the head?
Why do we
capitalize proper names? I think we should capitalize everything other than
proper names sometimes.
This
consciousness we have is sized as the head of a pin. We have to contract.
Where did all
this dirt come from? I remember once hearing that soap does nothing but get
dirty. Why not ... get rid of the soap then?
Hello mother.
Hello father. Here I am in. A
Walmart. Aren't there enough walls in the world
already? Seriously.
I don't
observe the sky as often as I should, even though I know it's like chewing on
only one side of one's mouth.
The world
keeps getting bigger and bigger, and it scares me to death. Oh look. Electric disco roller skates.*
*MUST CREDIT
SHARY FLENNIKEN
***********
The
problem as I saw it was that whenever you went to the top of a mountain in
This
logic worked with the lakes too. Whenever you swam to the bottom of a lake in
Naturally
for me that mean that I had to take over every single inch of
I
couldn't stand to see such waste.
It
drove me crazy!
My
invasion plan was successful. I came into possession of
The
Bolivians didn't know what hit them if they knew what had happened. (Understand
that my takeover wasn't announced anywhere in the world.)
It
was mine, to the tops of the mountains and to the bottom of the lakes.
I
constructed domes at the bottoms of all their lakes which took some time
considering they have 9,289 of them.
I
built towers at the tops of their mountains which took some time considering
they have 122,654 of them.
I
did wonders for their country. I'm expecting medals any day now.
***********
Our House
Have
you ever heard of "Home Box Office"? It's a cable television station.
It's abbreviated as "HBO".
So
anyway some people from 'HBO' showed up at our door today. They explained
(there were three of them, two women and one man, but they all spoke with the
same mind) they were looking for a typical
I
was interested. I asked them what they were going to shoot. They said,
"It's a murder thing. Story is, chick gets
kidnapped by the bad guy. The chick is pretty inconsequential; we're just using
her to set up that our bad guy is a bad guy. So in your house he rapes her,
tits everywhere, HBO trademark, then he chops her up and puts her in garbage
bags."
"In our house?"
"We'll
clean up after. There's gonna be lots of blood."
I
thought about it; they could see me thinking about it.
"We'll
give you $10,000 extra."
"$10,000."
They
glared at me. "This isn't soft-core-pornography; this's HBO."
***********
Elton John -
What
did we call those big things with the big speakers we suburbans played records
on in 1972? The word 'console' comes to mind. It sat on four legs in the den
proportioned like a coffee-table. A bunch of LPs were leaning against it: old
jazz stuff, West Side Story, a Spike Jones record, all of history was there
leaning.
Then--I
guess my brother David bought Elton John records. They would up there--Honky
Chateau, the live record
The
old jazz stuff LPs we ran a knife over to see how the needle followed the
groove. Kids.
We
heard in these Elton John records ideas expansion. I
don't want to qualify this unduly. When I was 9, ignorant, I heard an idea that
the world was a whole lot bigger than a den with a console.
Now
I'm fifty-one--(older than Don Quixote)--listening to this record. I can't
judge it because it's been bred-in-my-bones. "I cannot disavow this disk
for to do so would be to disavow my whole heritage."
Recordings
are situated in retrospect. Records are sweet, and melancholy.
***********
We now join
the short story already in progress.
ditor along with me," he said, "because she knows
stuff about publication law."
The
officer looked them both over once more. "It's a serious charge, young
man. I hope you are taking this ... seriously."
The
officer looked down at his report. "A topless protest.
And you felt all right filming it."
"Not
to the police."
"And
how was he to know this woman was only fourteen? It was a public event, and we
are allowed to videotape public events."
"None
of that matters to The Law. You have been charged with creating child
pornography, and the facts are clearly against you."
"Yes,
and that's why your television network, that's why we're looking into broader
charges. In today's atmosphere, the creation and dissemination of
We interrupt
this short story to bring you a special update.
***********
Trying
to catch up with consciousness, I believe I am always behind it.
I
am aiming for unmediated immediacy, yet there's a something that holds me back;
I do not believe this is not entirely not by choice.
At
the chronological frontier of my existence (otherwise known as experience) I indisputably am, yet this
is merely the raw material from which I create my beliefs and so on.
What
can possibly be there, at this α
point of being? Can it be that I cannot get there because I am afraid of what I
may find there?
And
a voice said, You are afraid of what you
will find there, and with good reason, for this is what is here, says the
immediate; for here, in the immediate and of the immediate, is a horrific
nothingness that is the nothingness of the non-conscious; the nothingness which
you cannot comprehend no matter how you try; the unnameable horror of the
abyss, at the brink of the irrational and chaotic, where all is mute and
brutal; stay back, stay away from the ledge; do not fall into madness.
The
voice was from the future of my consciousness. (Not from my experience's future.)
***********
RIGHT-NESS U-NIT
A portable
personal apparatus that maintains, monitors, and ensures the bearer's cognitive
fitness.
Due
to circumstances, I could no longer avoid the appointment. So there I was, at
my mechanic's office, at
"I've
been avoiding this," I told him, "but there's a lot wrong with it
now." I showed him my rightness unit. "Look. This doohickey here, the
screw's broken off flush. Can it be gotten out? Do you have some special
tool?"
My
mechanic looked it over, frowning or maybe disapproving. "Looks
pretty bad. There's a back-up, though, over here, if you take off this
plate." He brought out some tools and unscrewed the plate. "Oh dear."
"I
was going to mention: I'd been getting warnings from the vision part about
there being a fail for the back-up some months ago, but I ignored them."
"This
is pretty bad. You should have come to me sooner. There's another way, let me
see." He attached it to some kind of diagnostic thing and all lights
turned up red. "There's no hope. It can't be fixed. You're gonna have to
fork out for another one."
I
stared at him blankly. "How do I do that?"
***********
DOES THE INERTIA OF A BODY DEPEND
UPON ITS ENERGY-CONTENT?
By A. Einstein
The results of
the previous investigation lead to a very interesting conclusion, which is here
to be deduced. I based that investigation on the Maxwell-Hertz equations for
empty space [...]
[...] (i.e. E=mc2
- ed.) [...]
[...] If the
theory corresponds to the facts, radiation conveys inertia between the emitting
and absorbing bodies.
***
223 Comments
Pedro Dimaggio 10 minutes ago
LOL.
Duke of Prunes 13 minutes ago
F=UCK
Carrie Underpants 18 minute ago
This is
garbage. Kids are so stupid these days. FAKE
AaaaaartFag 25 minutes ago
I knew about
this for a long time cuz Jesus told me
IHEARTSCIENCE 28 minutes ago
Doesn't this
shithead know that the science is settled? 97% of science agrees with
Pontius →
IHEART SCIENCE 27 minute ago
Yer
an idiot
IHEART SCIENCE → Potius 26 minutes ago
Least
I can spell
Pontius →
IHEART SCIENCE 24 minutes ago
Piss
off stupid wanker
Duke of Prunes 29 minutes ago
F=
Lauren Stevenson 31 minutes ago
My
brother-in-law paid off his car loan using one simple trick. See how! http://www.seabluerose.de.pl/
Pedro Dimaggio 38 minutes ago
Link broken
***********
'The Witches' Explainer
1st W: Our numbers are down. Way down.
2nd W: Maybe we should move our
headquarters to
1st W: The woods? You want us to go
live in the fucking woods?
3rd W: Why do you have woods? They're
very private.
4th W: Our husband Satan likes the
woods.
2nd W: But where can we get new women
to join our order? Not even witches live forever.
5th W: It's a wilderness out there. Almost a jungle.
SATAN: Hello, my lovelies. We're all
heading to the
2nd W: We were just talking about that!
6th W: Is this more magick?
SATAN: Not at all, not at all. You see,
there's a whole bunch of puritans heading there, and they pretty much don't
believe in external evil. They think it mostly only comes from their own souls.
7th W: Arrogance!
8th W: Pride!
SATAN: Rockin'! So we can kill whole
families and take their nubile daughters very, very easily.
3rd W: Easy pleasy!
6th W: Cherries for the choker!
SATAN: Get your stuff together, we
leave tonight.
1st W: Woo-hoo!
3rd W: The Anabaptists I hear are
especially utile.
SATAN:
***********
Dénouement
I was standing outside my place of work,
about three metres from the door, enjoying a cigarette. A security guard came
up to me and said, "You can't smoke this close to the door."
I said, "Says who?"
He pointed to a sandwich-board sign. "Says that."
I read the sign out loud. "No smoking
within fifteen metres of the entrance for a greener tomorrow."
"See?"
I said, "But that's not why I'm
smoking, so I don't see how that applies to me."
"What?"
"I am not smoking within fifteen
metres of the entrance for a greener tomorrow. I'm smoking within fifteen
metres of the entrance for pure pleasure."
"You know that's not what it
means."
"It means what it says. If I saw
someone smoking within fifteen metres of the entrance for a greener tomorrow,
I'd tell them, 'Hey! No smoking within fifteen metres of the entrance for a
greener tomorrow!'"
"You'll get in trouble for this."
I put out the cigarette with my shoe.
"Not until the sign is changed."
The security guard stomped off, knowing
he'd been thoroughly beaten.
The clouds above parted, and Aristotle
looked down. He said, "Good one."
I said to him, "Thanks, Ari!"
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