Merry-Go-Round Monday
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There was once a man who owned and operated a merry-go-round, and he was quite successful as children and adults came from miles about to enjoy the pleasant sensation of the circular ride on the wooden horses. After some years, boredom, (or “ennui” as his Norwegian brother-in-law liked to call it), set in, and for new excitement the man began to run the merry-go-round backwards on some dull days. Soon people began to ask to go backwards, and he arrived at a schedule whereby every other day the merry-go-round would go forward, and on the alternate days, backwards.
He was soon more successful than ever, and all the children and adults appeared to enjoy themselves even more with this mixed running. But soon, (as his brother-in-law had predicted), he grew bored again. Then he decided on a new tack: He would start the merry-go-round running in the posted direction for the day, and then suddenly he would slam the gears into the opposite direction. First getting it going good in the forward direction, then, “Bam!” whip ‘er into reverse as quick as possible; children screaming, adults cursing, bodies flying and falling every-which-a-way. And, “boy-oh-boy” did the man laugh. This was the most fun he had had since he bought the whirling machine.
He sure wasn't bored now, as he watched the helpless people flail about, laughing so hard he cried and almost choked. Boy-oh-boy did he ever enjoy himelf. But the riders didn't, and they beat the holy shit out of him.
*** END OF STORY***
A young boy once told his mother that an invisible voice had been talking to him; telling him wonderful stories about all the exciting things that would happen to him when he got older.
His mother told him to “Shut up about such nonsense”; she said there were no such things as “invisible voices, and that he was crazy.” Later, when the little boy was a grown, older man, and his mother was older still, he told her that an invisible voice had began to speak to him, and it spoke of nothing but doom, and discouragement. His mother nodded now in knowing agreement. *** WELCOME TO THE BIG TIME, SONNY BOY ***
There was once a young boy with musical interests, and as he dreamed of his grown up future as a happy musician, he came to the conclusion that there was a “missing note” in the known musical scale, and he turned his energies to discovering this note so as to better assure his reputation and future fortunes. Meanwhile, unknown to all involved, there were two other lads dreaming of their happy futures in different fields. One had decided that there was a “missing letter” in the known alphabet, and he directed his efforts to being the first to discover this “missing letter.” The third boy had come to a personal determination that there was a “missing number” amidst all of the numbers now known, or suspected, and he began his search for this number. After some years of search, research and struggle, these three lads and their quests became well known, and they were unanimously labeled as “crackpots, kooks, and decidedly weird.” Not only did they not become famous in their chosen fields, but they could not, in fact, even gain minimal employment. (That is until they secured non-existent positions on an invisible project whose purpose was totally “missing.”)
J.