Thursday, June 11, 2009

Cranky Large Medium reading, 11 June

Go away.

When will you be going? I try and try to be left alone, and all the time people like you come a-calling on me. It's not as though I live next door and can lend you a cup of sugar. And you must truly have great animus toward me. Why do you come all this way, if not to torment me? Oh, just to ask a favor of me. As if that makes things better. All right, all right. Which will it be -- a cup or sugar or -- what? Oh, you want a reading. Sigh. If it will make you go... It will? Wonderful! Here you are, then:
You are an omnivorous reader, and a toothbrush alone will not remove the pulp from your back teeth. You have a brain, and could, potentially, use it for sparkling conversation, as long as you're not trying to engage me. Other than coming to me, you have remarkably good judgment, seldom act in haste. You are a bit fussy about your wardrobe (leave your poor tailor alone, for once, will you?), and do a reasonably good job of keeping your family from being too miserable. You make friends easily, in the laboratory.
Are you happy, now? Of course not. But you could see the positive side, were you to try. At least you're still able to read, to play, and all that other stuff that comes with living. That beasts what these people have, since, on this date in history, they all turned the final page: Henry of Flanders, King George I, Klemens Wenzel von Metternich, Daniel Carter Beard, Nikolai Bugaev, Lev Vygotsky, Michael Bartosh, Imre Friedmann, James Curtis Hepburn, Julius Evola, Robert E. Howard (speaking of pulp), Catherine Cookson, Karl Briullov, Chesley Bonestell, Théodore Dubois, Marion Morrison aka John Wayne, Ray Sharkey, DeForest Kelley, Mala Powers, Jim Konstanty, Samuel Whitbread, John Franklin, Karen Ann Quinlan, Timothy McVeigh, David Brinkley, Egon von Furstenberg,
and Earl Grant.

I think you were already out of it.
Happy birthday, anyway.

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