Fixer-Upper

A sailor I was drinking with had this to say, “With intelligence as my principal, I will expect its ensuing interest to be phenomenal.”

On yet another little planet I recently visited, they have this service available to intellectually “match people up,” and one guy, (apparently I say, apparently), confusing it with real estate sales, listed himself as a, “great little fixer-upper,” and “a do-it-yourselfers delight.”

There’s certain privilege in not being any particular sort of thing.

The leader of a band of loose woven revolutionists, with a history of erratically realized, proposed meeting schedules, announced that instead of each person being contacted on a Monday regarding a tentative Tuesday meeting, hence forth each member would call a number where through they would hear one or two possible recorded musical tones, either a B-sharp, or a double-flatted-C, to signify whether the meeting was “on or off.”  In their opinion, some found this confusing, some found it annoying, while others found it unnecessary, but they ALL found their pay checks docked for having an opinion.

Since the old man had no material wealth to pass on from his dying bed, he offered this advice, “Regarding men in all matters non-lethal, never take the serious seriously.”

J.