Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Cranky Large Medium reading, 11 August

Go away.

Why aren't you going? For that matter, why aren't you gone? It's not as though the exit were concealed. In fact, I've tried for some time to hide the entry, and people still come in . So, go on, now, outward bound with you. Go. Go. Go. You're not going. Why? Oh, right, you came here for something and you won't leave without it. I am shocked and stunned. Stunned. And shocked. So, if I give you this something, you promise to leave promptly? Nift-o-spiffy. This thing you want -- let me guess -- it's a reading, no? Ah, then, let me help you on your way. Here you are:
You occasionally have fairly good ideas and opinions, but are too wishy-washy to speak up. You have plenty of energy, and could muster up perseverance if you wanted to, but lack the determination. Sports appeal to you, as does the sybaritic lifestyle, if you could just figure out a way to get there. You will not fall in love at first sight, but will prove yourself an idiot for love.
Are you happy, now? Of course not. Too bad. I'm not here to coddle you. You ought to be able to muster up a positive opinion of your life. After all, it's certainly better than what these people have, as, on this date in history, they all boarded the infinite train: Leonidas, Magnentius, Flavian, Wilfred the Hairy, Möngke Khan, Nicholas of Cusa, Pedro Nunes, Macedonio Melloni, Enrico Betti, Max Theiler, Armand Borel, Clare of Assisi, John Henry Cardinal Newman, Henry James Pye, Edith Wharton, Hans Memling, Lavinia Fontana, Jackson Pollock, Bartolomé de Escobedo, Tom Drake, Peter Cushing, James Booth, Anne Ramsey, J. D. McDuffie, Herb Brooks, Hamnet Shakespeare, Andrew Carnegie, Jean Bugatti, Alfred A. Knopf, Phil Harris, Mike Douglas,
and Mel Taylor.

Run, don't walk to the exit.
Happy birthday, anyway.

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