how perfectly swell: matthew prins (or matt prins, or thew, or...oh, you don't care) alone with his stupidity
"I can't operate on him. He's my son."
Within the past 24 hours -- but not as I am writing this -- I have worn a specific item of clothing. If I were 100 pounds larger, I would not be able to wear this piece of clothing successfully, but if I were 100 pounds lighter, assuming that I were not dead due to malnutrition, I would have no problem wearing this item just as comfortably as I did within the past day. What is it?
---
Martha, a 50-pound child, read in a book that a helium balloon three-feet in diameter has can lift about 9/10ths of a pound. So when Martha went to the carnival, she bought 60 three-foot balloons, tied half to each arm, and waited to be lifted in the air. She didn't move an inch. So she bought another 60 three-foot ballons, tied them along with the originals to her arms, and she still wasn't lifted into the air. She untied all the balloons and continued surveying the carnival. Half-an-hour later, she bought 60 more three-foot balloons, tied them to her arms, and was promptly floating in mid-air. Why?
i sincerely do not know what you are doing here. are you lost? were you
looking for your delicate calico cat, and did you follow her up two flights of stairs
to this room? she is not here. she was here, yes. we gave her a warm bowl of milk, we talked with her about campaign finance reform for a time, and then she bid us good day. i believe she was
going to the post office two blocks down, but i don't quite recall.
for surely you did
not find your way from prinsiana, the least traveled site on
the internet. if you did, though, perhaps you are looking for humor. perhaps you are looking for profundity. perhaps you are looking for answers.
i'm sorry, but you shall go naught-for-three.