Cool Out...

Soon after dying and discovering there was no after-life, this one guy whined, “Boy – there’s probably not any catsup either!”

Submission overcomes violence
half the time in half the places;
that is, all the time in some worlds,
none of the time in others.

As they were reflectively wiping the elk droppings from their shoes, the ole man finally broke the philosophical silence by saying, “My boy, cool out…”  And his son quickly attempted correction by injecting, “No, Pop, you mean ‘chill out.’”  “No, dear sonny boy, I meant to say cool since I was trying to move you gradually to my ultimate attention-grabber – but enough of this inter-family digression – what I wanted to tell you was to – ease-up, cool-out, and tramp through the woods for the beauty of the day; no need to worry about the ‘past catching up with you’ as long as you’re carrying it around in your back pocket.”  (And the lad suddenly comprehended what it was he’d been uncomfortably sitting on for the last three months.)

This one guy used to feed the rats around his house, because, he said, they might keep away the roaches.

Another fan, (who says he picks up The News courtesy of the inter-play between his bridgework and the steel plate in his mother’s head), says that reading it has proved to be a two level experience.  Before reading it,  he says he’d never even heard of a “Neural Revolutionist,” and that now after being informed on the matter,  he doesn’t know what one is.