In the alley, on the back wall of the building, in large dripping letters, someone had scrawled, “I think with my knees.”
Wallace Weeks, S.O.S.
Gloves are a warming thing.
My browser is the one called Bing.
I stripped the mitten off my right hand,
I played drums in a high school band.
I now dwell in a churning ring of liars,
I would turn it round with a golden pair of pliers,
So it turns, turns, turns,
That bunch of tires, that bunch of tires.
Patrick Malmsey, Verse.
With psychology, it is all or nothing. One “psychologizes” everything—not just this or that.
Desmond Urquhart, The Unsocial Sciences.
“Okay, class. Imagine you’re an airplane flying overhead. And you can write messages in the sky. What words would you inscribe? Elizabeth? Tell us your message.”
Chadwick Graves, Maoist Struggle Session and Other Stories.
He seemed to be saying, “Look! I am a clown, dancing for your entertainment.” But no one was ever actually entertained by a circus clown. That’s an established fact. And is easily proved.
Clifford Apogee, Draining the Pools—A Collection of Stories.
“Something that at least resembles arithmetic should have been considered before plunging onward.”
Ralston Dowd, The General Ghastliness.
Under the title were these words: Ink Jet Print on Archival Paper. And what do those words mean? That we will never be rid of the item.
Archer Sturtevant, What’s Happening Now.
Indeed, they seem somewhat silly when they specify pure mathematics and when they make claims about elegance.
Paul Michael Dowling, The Behaviours of Proof.
“Gag me with a spoon.” (Moon Zappa)
Marley Grayshott, The Giants of Popular Culture.
“Jack did tell the truth, Lizzie. He told the truth by telling a lie. Anyway, that’s how he put it.”
Tyler Bardwell, Heading West.
dennis scharnberg 