When they stormed the high walls I slipped my arm along the back of the seat, timing my questing fingers to the explosion of the black powder cannons. As the rebellious hordes raced through the streets and alleys I dangled my fingers lower and gradually cupped her right breast. She remained focused on the sounds and sights of the siege on the Technicolor screen. Suddenly there was a breakthrough from below and I reached with the other hand to slip under her dress and stroke the inside of her thigh. She rushed two defensive hands to her lap and repulsed my flanking maneuver. I retreated but immediately attempted to make a new breakthrough below. Again a flurry of hands repulsed me. I sat back, regrouped, and accepted a conciliatory kiss. My hand never left her breast.
The famous mathematician Stanislaw Ulam thought of the following paradox, which is now known as the Ulam Paradox: When President Richard Nixon was appointed to office, on the first day he met his cabinet he said to them: ‘None of you are yes-men, are you?’ And they all said, ‘NO!’
— Raymond Smullyan, A Mixed Bag, 2016
[Reblogged from The Futility Closet]
Carl Sandburg wrote this little poem:
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
To a Contemporary Bunkshooter
YOU come along … tearing your shirt … yelling about Jesus.
Where do you get that stuff?
What do you know about Jesus
Jesus had a way of talking soft and outside of a few bankers and higher-ups among the con men of Jerusalem everybody liked to have this Jesus around because he never made any fake passes and everything he said went and he helped the sick and gave the people hope.
You come along squirting words at us, shaking your fist and calling us all dam fools so fierce the froth slobbers over your lips… always blabbing we’re all going to hell straight off and you know all about it.