What the hell. I thought I put that sucker out to the curb. Is that the same one, or another, identical one? Hey… same to you, Lincoln! Jeezus. Why are you so bad tempered?
Man, I’ll tell you - tempers run short here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill in the middle of July. All this [...]

I have suggested a collection of aphorisms. Witticisms, as it were. Or as they are. Or as we were. (As you were!)

Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has mustered a small army of robots to do his bidding. (And me to help.)

There’s a little thing called opportunity … and a little thing called luck. One or the other of those little things may just get close enough to be considered a big thing.

I haven’t seen the man-sized tuber in a couple of days, come to think of it - perhaps he was mistaken for a great bull zucchini.

Not everyone in our songs is for real, okay? Sometimes we make up unlikely personages, like “Jane” or “Abraham Lincoln.”

A chicken’ll make you a meal… or it’ll lay enough eggs for a thousand breakfasts.

If the specific gravity of a song is too heavy, we try making an alloy by blending it with some more light-hearted material.

Anything down there belongs to US. That’s right… a pie-slice shaped vector of earth stretching from the perimeter of the hammer mill down to the core of this planet. Own it!

No more fighting the mongooses for bits of breadfruit (those bits that they don’t want).