If you're going to slump, DO IT RIGHT: scrunch down deep in yourself until there isn't a straight place anywhere in your body!
Honest politicians are rare.
Most of us slow down mentally as we age. But there’s a world of difference between “just slowing down” and moving into Big League Bogglement – which is, of course, that huge stew of memory-loss, confusion and total muddle we all strive for.
The more questions below that you answer YES to, the better your chances of discarding your old life, advancing into the bogglized one that I, personally, thrive in. The questions:
Did you understand what you just read? If not, you may be on the way to a delightful, fact-free, highly-boggle-ated inner life!
Enjoy every moment!
If one thing is identical to another, both are identical.
Bottomlessness of glasses, cups and bottles is directly proportional to unfillability.
Never end a sentence abrup
Pure virgin filth is not substantially cleaner than old-fashioned dirt.
What post-mortem smiles lack in warm, they make up for in durability.
The funnier the jokes you make up, the more easily remembered by people who forget they heard them from you first.
The less absurd a politician’s promises, the less likely they’re believed.
The more aimless your path, the more likely you are to get where you don’t mind going.
The shortest distance between two points is another point.
Regreta oozed out of bed like a comatose anaconda. The first 24 hours of the morning were her worst.
And so were the last.
She snaked across the floor to the coffee machine under her bed. She splashed a cupful on her blouse - though it would’ve been neater to drink it straight from the cup. Slurping coffee off herself was awkward – especially with a furry tennis ball in her mouth.
The newspapers on the living room ceiling were piled down almost to the floor. Instead of reading them, Regreta read the tea-leaves in her underpants and found the news was really putrid.
What time was it? Unfortunately, her hourglass had bottlenecked as the concrete inside it rock-hardened solid. Thankfully, the loss of precision was more than made up for by the savings on batteries.
As night plumped down its big black rump on the town, Regreta drove her riding rug-mower up to the bar.
What to drink? A bottle of Coke—or just the Coke itself? She was really thirsty!
She drove back to the sofa and took a huge gulp – barely getting the cushions down her gullet.
When the bottle was empty, she marveled how the sofa had fit inside it in the first place. (She was glad she had paid extra for a liquid sofa.)
She snailed toward the bedroom, optimistically considered her body half-full of booze, not half empty. Her strait-jacket fell up from to the ceiling as she crawled into bed. She poured concrete into her nose and mouth to keep the booze from spilling out.
Sleep would come, that was for sure, or maybe even the big sleep. She had made sure not to drink so little gin that she stayed conscious, and passed out before the concrete set. This was important to her; she didn’t want to be in control of herself or appear sane to any one of the thousands of roaches that might observe her.
Sleep did come, the late writhing sun found her at peace. It was the first time she’d made it through the same day twice in one 24-hour period.
Experience not only teaches us what not to do, but how to find workable methods of doing it too late - although, in the case of the Iraq war on Terror, this, of course does not apply, all other things being equal at this moment in time.
That being said, The Decider is the ultimate judge of whatever I have not said here, which, incidentally, I have neither read nor understood. Clear?
Not to ME!
(And so, the battle for disease-free phone sex continues. The only answer may be smoke signals, pending a congressional inquiry or very surprising breaking news about ENRON.)
