It began as the GODFATHER OF MATH, evolved into the GOODFATHER OF MATH. Now this. Go figure...


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The kind of humor I like is the thing that makes me laugh for five seconds and think for ten minutes = G. CARLIN...Stain glass, engraved glass, frosted glass
–give me plain glass = JOHN FOWLES...Music is the mathematics of the gods = PYTHAGORAS... Nothing is more fluid than language = R. L. SWIHART
I cannot live without the oxygen of laughter = DAWN POWELL + + + But please be sure to season that with the hydrogen of gravitas = PAUL OLIVERIO
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Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Bilingual Commentary ... [ pST #27]

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© Mrs. CarPeo
At The Aquarium



The next 
Superimposed Text page
is
TBD



The p in the title
stands for
photoverio
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More Quotes From ACKROYD (The Novel, Not the Actor)

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He fits into his mood changes
as if they are custom-made.
Whatever the  emotion
it looks right on him.
That, I suppose,
is a description of class.

Most men are unable
to work together
beyond a certain level
of mediocrity...
to exceed that level
is to declare yourself
an enemy of your fellow worker
and therefore an exile,
open to envy, suspicion,
subversion and attack.

This is a country where you
can land in the brig
for cigarette smuggling
and get promoted into
the high command for smuggling
weapons to the enemy.

Intimidation is modern man's
last viable weapon against being
devoured by his loved ones.

"When Warhol paints
it is not to make art
but to make
the cover of Time."
 ***

(1977)  
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Monday, October 16, 2017

She Is Now In The Witness Protection Program

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After being featured
in a cat food commercial,
Silhouette was placed in
the Federal Witness Protection Program.

© Oliverio
While the commercial
was being filmed,
an assistant camera man farted.

The director was so angered
by the flatulence,
the camera man
was forced to eat cat food
while crawling across the floor.

The camera man is suing
a major film studio.
  
Silhouette witnessed
his humiliating experience.

She is now wearing a Victorian collar
with an imbedded detector
to track her every movement. 
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Sunday, October 15, 2017

Not For Public Consumption ... 68 Year Old Boy Does So Declare

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Yesterday, Today And Tomorrow
(Forty Six Years Ago)

****************

A boy dropped out of school.
The next day,
he drank himself
into a stupor.

The next day,
his mother served him
his favorite breakfast.

It was the last meal
she ever cooked
for him.

By midnight,
she was re-united 
with his father
who had died
five days after
his fifty-fifth
birthday.

She was fifty.

The boy had to 
identify her body
at the city morgue.

According to
his driver's license,
the boy was twenty-two.

According to
his poetic license,
he was twelve years old.

He was escorted
to the city morgue
in a flashy sports car
by his estranged 
brother-in-law.

He could not wait
to tell his sister
that her -ex
was now ready
to be her 
un -ex

And that mistake
would ultimately
result in
the next funeral,
four years later

When his sister
was re-united
with her parents.

However,
in 2017,
the boy has no desire
to be re-united
with his
HOLY TRINITY
anytime soon.

All because he has
finally discovered
his better half.
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Friday, October 13, 2017

Written By Zelda Sayre Before She Became Zelda Fitzgerald

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THE ICEBERG
 
Cornelia gazed out of the window and sighed, not because she was particularly unhappy, but because she had mortified her parents and disappointed her friends. Her two sisters, younger than she, were married and established for life long ago; yet here she remained at thirty years of age, like a belated apple or a faded bachelor’s button, either forgotten or not deemed worth the picking. Her father did not scold. He kindly suggested that perhaps Neilie would do more for herself if the rest of the family would leave her alone. Her brother said, “Cornie’s a fine girl and good looking enough, but she’s got no magnetism. A fellow might as well try to tackle an iceberg.” 

For all that, the family cat found her responsive enough, and the little fox-terrier fairly adored her, to say nothing of a blue jay that insisted upon a friendly dispute every time she stole to her retreat in the old-fashioned Southern garden. Her mother said, “Cornelia is not sympathetic. She looks at a man with her thoughts a thousand miles away, and no man’s vanity will stand for that. What good are beautiful clothes and musical genius if humanity is left out? No! No! Cornelia will never marry, Cornelia is my despair.”
 

Now Cornelia sometimes grew weary of disapproval and resented it. “Mother,” she would say, “is marriage the end and aim of life? Is there nothing else on which a woman might spend her energy? Sister Nettie is tied to a clerical man, and, between caring for the baby and making ends meet, looks older than I. Sister Blanche finds so little comfort in a worked-down husband that she has taken to foreign missions and suffrage for diversion. If I’m an economic proposition, I’ll turn to business.”
 

So, without more ado, she secretly took a course at business college, and taught the fingers that had rippled over Chopin and Chaminade to be equally dexterous on the typewriter. Her eyes seemed to grow larger and more luminous as she puzzled over the hieroglyphics of stenography.

“That Miss Holton is a wonder,” said the manager of the college. 


“Yes, she’s a social failure, but she bids fair to be a business success,” agreed a young man who had once fallen into her indifferent keeping.
 

Just then the phone rang. “At once, you say! Wait a moment, I’ll see.” Proceeding softly to her desk, he said, “Miss Holton, I consider you quite efficient as a pupil. Do you care to answer an emergency call? The firm of Gimbel, Brown and Company wishes a stenographer at once. What do you say to the place?”
 

“What do I say? Why, it just hits the spot. Let me get my hat and I’m off.”
“Well,” said the manager, “I do like a girl who knows what she wants.”
 

If her mother could only have heard that! Perhaps, after all, Cornelia had always known what she wanted—and failed to find it. Perhaps, after all, a social equation in trousers had not been just what Cornelia craved. Perhaps, after all, Cornelia was seeking self-expression. At any rate, she lost no time in finding Gimbel, Brown and company, and was not the least aghast that this was the mighty multi-millionaire Gimbel who needed her services.
 

“Miss Holton, you say? Cornelia Holton, the daughter of my old friend, Dan Holton? Why bless your heart, have a seat! This is so sudden! When did you enter the business arena, pray?”
 

Cornelia was not abashed. With her usual straight-forward earnestness, she said, “Yes, I’m Cornelia Holton, and I’m in business to stay. If the arena is full of Bulls and Bears, I’m here to wrestle. What can I do for you, Mr. Gimbel?”
 

With a twinkle in his eye and a queer little smile, he pushed toward her the pile of snowy paper and began to dictate. North, South, East, and West the messages flew, and Cornelia’s fingers flew with them. White, slender, and shapely, they graced the machine as they had the piano, and, when lunch hour came, her face had flushed, and the little brown curls clung to her forehead with a slight moisture of effort. Cornelia was beautiful over her first conquest of the typewriter!
 

As she rose to go, she blushed, and stammered, “Mr. Gimbel, I’ll thank you not to tell my parents of this. They have no knowledge of my business enterprise and would be quite horrified. You know, nothing succeeds like success. I have been a failure long enough.” And she smiled as she left, the old grace of the distasteful ball-room clinging to her in spite of her steady resolve.
 

“Well, by jove!” exclaimed Mr. Gimbel. “By Jove!” he reiterated, “who’d a thought a Holton woman would go into business! Why, that girl’s mother was the greatest belle that this city ever produced. Well, she couldn’t get married, maybe.” So he too, went his way thinking of the little wife that had died years ago and of the great emptiness that had taken her place and that he had tried to fill with money.
 

Several months flew by. The Holton’s had their shock when Cornelia announced her business success, and were again in the normal path of life. The cat said, “I told you so! I knew she had the element of success in her!” The little dog barked, “Doggone her! I always knew I didn’t wag my tail for nothing.” The blue jay noisily called, “Aw, come on now and let’s finish our dispute. You can build a nest if I can, and you can hatch a family, too, if you try. Aw go awn!” But that was nothing to what the society world said when Cornelia Holton and James G. Gimble walked quietly to the study of the Reverend Devoted Divine and were made one, even to the millions and the famous homestead was also a palace of art and aesthetic refinement.
 

Mrs. Holton fainted over her coffee-cup when she unfolded the morning paper and beheld the head-lines, side-by-side with, and quite as large as the war news. Mr. Holton chuckled, as he emptied the water-bottle over her most expensive negligee. “I always said Cornelia had something up her sleeve.” “Well, the old girl must have warmed up at last,” added her brother.
 

The front door opened and in walked the disheveled sisters, screaming, “Mamma, mamma—Cornelia, the old maid—she has out-married us all!”

Zelda Sayre

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Footnotes
A prize-winning story, THE ICEBERG was published
in the 1918 Sidney Lanier High School Literary Journal.

One month after graduating from High School, Zelda met Scott Fitzgerald.
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The 82nd Bullet: With And Without

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Knowledge with wisdom
yields intelligence.
Knowledge without wisdom
yields information.

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 Footnote
THE 82nd BULLET  is the copyrighted property of  LCSoL.

Only the first 45 Bullets are linked together
because we do not want to make life easy
for our favorite thieves.
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Song About That Thing Which Runs Interference For Fear

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Doubt comes in 
and turns the wine
:::
Doubt comes in
and leaves a trace
of vinegar and turpentine
:::
Doubt comes in
and kills the lights
:::
Doubt comes in
with tricky fingers
:::

Doubt comes in
with fickle tongues
:::

Doubt comes in 
and my heart falters
and forgets the songs it sung
 
Where are you? 
Where are you now? 

Lyrics for
Doubt Comes In
written by
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