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Tag Archives: 2002
2002 Wisdom
Wisdom
There is milk in my shoe.
The trashcan has not yet moved.
A chair with two legs is really a broken ladder.
A computer is empty when the power is out.
Three monkeys and the Jones boy have pondered the matter.
Sometimes people stare at things that attract dust.
Cold and delicious plastic has made millions of children happy.
The love of a pig can be found in your pickle.
Carpet is really permanent dirt in the color of your choice.
When one cleans their hands, one trains bacteria.
Where the light is rare, I am tired and sleepy.
In the future, farm animals will fax love.
There is a third world republic in my nudity.
A sentient being will sometimes eat what it cannot digest.
Most followers of Christ own things.
A war in a country of plenty will get you laid,
But a war in a country of less will get you high.
Democrats will blame the pencil,
And Republicans will blame the paper.
The first line will be a general statement,
And the second line will either contradict or compliment it.
The first line will compare,
But the second line will contrast.
When white people adjust the color,
Black people will adjust the contrast.
The trashcan still has not budged.
An intelligent person may raise something to kill it.
The lactose intolerant crave milk and feel left out.
Some people would rather have a successful enemy than a successful friend.
Some people will risk the future for the moment.
A museum and a baseball have very little in common.
Would you like to have a picnic on me, I said.
Thanks to modern technology, humans are the only predators that do not hunt,
But graze for their meat.
The trash can not.
1 2 3 4 7
While evolution naps, culture has the run of the house.
Seven is the most special number because it has two consonants.
Zero counts for nothing.
No one pretended.
Sometimes things mean something,
Sometimes they don’t.
No pun intended.
In an overpopulated world, the intelligent tend to have fewer children,
So the future tends to belong to the stupid.
White people have made certain that only black people can say n*****r politely.
As long as the threat of rape exists,
Women will require the protection of men.
There is magic on the day you turn twenty-one,
The booze fairy sprinkles you with the maturity required to become inebriated, responsibly.
When something is not spiritual, it is a hobby.
I wrote a poem about two days ago,
About how in two days I will refer to this poem.
In the far past,
Toilet-like creatures bred us to keep themselves full.
All life is a reaction.
I was going to bring you some distance from me,
But I dropped it on the way.
One cup of coffee is worth two apples,
But one pop tart will get you three cups of coffee.
The farmer’s son has eaten the farm.
I sleep when I’m sad so that I can be awake when I am tired.
The name of a hole is denoted by what creates it.
The last line may have been an ambiguous reference.
You may be wondering just how this will end.
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2002 Resume
I want to be an Actor. I want to be a producer. I want to be a writer. I want to be a costume designer. I want to be a director. I want to be a dancer. I want to be a singer. I want to be a choreographer. I want to be a composer. I want to be a lighting technician. I want to be a scenic designer. I want to be a lyricist. I want to be a key grip. I want to be an artist. I want to be a cartoonist. I want to be a teacher. I want to be a professor. I want to be a student. I want to be a bartender. I want to be a stage combat coordinator. I want to be a stage manager. I want to be an editor. I want to be a musician. I want to be a fireman. I want to be a farmer. I want to be a makeup artist. I want to be a critic. I want to be a hairdresser. I want to be a cook. I want to be a cowboy. I want to be a clerk. I want to be a dramaturge. I want to be a courtesan. I want to be a secretary. I want to be an ideal. I want to be the summer sun on a hornet’s wings. I want to be a superman. I want to be hot and spicy snow. I want to be Buddha. I want to be the three legs of the glass corner table upon which the world rests. I want to be a stroke in a Gustav Klempt. I want to be a breath of Thoreau. I want to be the first thing ever. I want to be inside the mind of an animal. I want to be on the tip of her tongue. I want to be ethereal sensation. I want to be the suppleness that doesn’t decay. I want to be a low, throbbing hum.
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