Here-to-There

Those who enjoy flattery deserve it…oh, okay, NEED it.

One tale I heard said that the way from “here-to-there” is over a high, narrow ridge made of diamonds, gold, and razor blades.

Whilst poking about at his prunes one morning, a man aloud mused, “You know, a string of bad luck is like a string of twine,” and his wife said, “No, it’s not,” and he shot her.

One ole sorehead, chided for his anger and asked, “Where was his human compassion?” replied, “It fucking died and went to live with the angels where it belongs.”

On a well versed bathroom wall I recently found this writ:
“Poets never sleep.” 
Now if THAT doesn’t keep you awake all night, what will?

J.