Proclivities wrote:

 Red_Dragon wrote:

Wait. Don't forget about the rooster on the mailbox at the corner of that yuge oak. You CAN miss it.

 GeneP59 wrote:

take a right at the light keep on straight until night and then boys you're on your own

I took a left and a hard right and then drove straight into the moonlight.

"I certainly wish you would have invented a more reasonable story. I felt distinctly like an idiot repeating it."

"Don't worry about the story's goofiness. A sensible one would have had us all in the cooler."

purple

A quote attributed to the 13th century Persian Poet, Rumi, indicates that, "The wound is the place where the Light enters you."
Seemingly of being, I initially read that as the 'womb'. It made sense to me either way but I wasn't about to get wound up in that argument...

Rights are pretty much debatable. Who what when where and why. Work in some how to and here to for and a forge and you have the makings.
Life and death? Pretty much set in stone. Is what is and was what was. Good day and good night. Or bad, depending on the lay and sway or swing and wing...

Onions are the great equalizer...

Projection is nine tenths of the jaw...

 oldviolin wrote:

What if cinder blocks were made out of actual cinders? What would be left to block up, out, or in...

So do photographs of ones self actually steal the soul or just open a window to it when beheld in a confusing gaze?

How the look of jealousy, combined with sarcasm, substituted those of love and bashfulness! How the titter of tainted mockery rang throughout the entire apartment, and could hardly fail to catch the ear of her whose queenly appearance occasioned it! These looks and taunts serving to convince Sir John of Nature’s fragile cloak which covers too often the image of indignation and false show, and seals within the breasts of honour and equality resolutions of an iron mould. On being introduced to Irene, Sir John concluded instantly, without instituting further 19 inquiry, that this must be the original of the portrait so warmly admired by him. There she stood, an image of perfection and divine beauty, attired in a robe of richest snowy tint, relieved here and there by a few tiny sprigs of the most dainty maidenhair fern, without any ornaments whatever, save a diamond necklet of famous sparkling lustre and priceless value.

“Beauty should be edible, or not at all.”
― Salvador Dalí

What we should probably do, and we can put this before the committee, is dig up all the dead people we love to hate, and grind their bones to a specific grade or grit. Then we can adapt it all to our methods and our language and issue personal mind/heart grinders  with which to mould and shape the eventual space we'll occupy when all that's left is people we hate to love.
Ah, screams. The stuff that dreams are made of ..

CYBORG CHAIRMAN MAO: All right, all right, everyone come to order. The 844th Conclave of the World Coterie of Sinister Conspirators has begun.
VAMPIRE JACQUES DE MOLAY: Point of order!
CYBORG CHAIRMAN MAO: *beep* *WHIRRRRR* The chair recognizes Jacques De Molay.
VAMPIRE JACQUES DE MOLAY: I move that we take up resolution WCSC-14402 for immediate discussion.
DISEMBODIED HEAD OF RASPUTIN: Point of odor! I can smell Jacques even in this sealed glass cylinder filled with embalming fluids and proteins!
STALIN CLONE 308: Haha! Sick burn, comrade!
DISEMBODIED HEAD OF RASPUTIN: Haha! I see what you did there, Joey!
DEMONIC REINCARNATION OF JEZEBEL: Pipe down, you. We are trying to address serious business here.
DISEMBODIED HEAD OF RASPUTIN: I’ll tell you what is serious business - getting you undressed! How about it, toots?
DEMONIC REINCARNATION OF JEZEBEL: Thanks, but I‘ve had my fill of dogs.
CYBORG CHAIRMAN MAO: *BUZZZZZZZZ* Order, conspirators, order! We will never bring down the whole of human endeavor like this. We must focus!
VAMPIRE JACQUES DE MOLAY: My motion would recognize Proto-Enochian as the official tongue of our organization.
DISEMBODIED HEAD OF RASPUTIN: Speaking of tongue, what’s a guy have to do to get some around here? Mine is rotting away.
DEMONIC REINCARNATION OF JEZEBEL: And not a moment too soon, if you ask me.
DISEMBODIED HEAD OF RASPUTIN: I did ask you. You said you’d rather kiss an ape.
STALIN CLONE 308: I would watch that.
VAMPIRE JACQUES DE MOLAY: You could be that. Can we get back to my motion please? 

I guess I wouldn’t call it “macaroni”, but I wouldn’t call it “macaroohey”, either. That just seems offensive.

The last time I turned left I wound up in Albuquerque with no Q’s and a handful of Cyrillic characters drawn by a very sarcastic cartographer.

I knew a guy who had measles once. I don’t know why, maybe it was a pet or something. Different strokes for different stripes, right?