There was a chill burglar from Kenya who, as he worked, listened to Enya. It lulled him to sleep, a sleep far too deep. He woke up where burglars, they send ya.
Limerick of the Kenyan Burglar
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The Torrents of Spring by Ernest Hemingway
Right Ho, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse
Humour: A Very Short Introduction by Noël CarrollJourneys start with a cattle-prod jolt & a kick in the soul -- not at an airport, or a ferry dock, or a taxi stand, or at the curb. By the time you've gotten that far, you're already traveling. By the time you've "decided" to go, you're already traveling. Travel begins earlier, if in the dark, because travel is not a dream, & only dreams start in the middle of nonsense. Real life flows down a continuous and unbroken stream of nonsense, drifting at a rate slow enough for your brain to make a movie of rationalizations, so that your brain can tell you: that you're in control, that you know what's going on, that you know what will happen next, & assorted and sundry bullshit like that.
I met a ram in Madurai, 'twas tethered to a pole. Though really it almost met me, taking its cyclic stroll. The ram's target was my keister, but its rope was too short. Saved by the narrowest margin; my path I did abort. The moral of this tale is clear. If you're in Madurai, give tethered rams the widest berth, or kiss your ass goodbye.