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I Know That Even Now, Having Watched Enough Television, You Probably Won't Even Refer To Them As Lepers So As To Spare Their Feelings. You Probably Call Them 'parts-dropping-off Challenged' Or Something.

-Christopher Moore

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I Know That Even

Christopher Moore

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I Know That Even Now, Having Watched Enough Television, You Probably Won't Even Refer To Them As Lepers So As To Spare Their Feelings. You Probably Call Them 'parts-dropping-off Challenged' Or Something.

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Cofishes-other Fish In A Group, Coworkers, Cohorts, Etc. Shut Up, It's A Word.

Like Looking Down On A Lubricious Chess Set, Isn't It? The King Moves In Tiny Steps, With No Direction, Like A Drunkard Trying To Avoid The Archer's Bolt. The Others Work Their Strategies And Wait For The Old Man To Fall. He Has No Power, Yet All Power Moves In His Orbit And To His Mad Whim. Do You Know There's No Fool Piece On The Chessboard, Kent?" "methinks The Fool Is The Player, The Mind Above The Moves.

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Winter Near The Shore Is Cold. The Wind Kicks Up A Salty Mist And Elephant Seals Come To Shore To Trumpet And Rut And Birth Their Pups. Retired People Put Sweaters On Their Lap Dogs And Drag Them Down The Street On Retractable Leashes In A Nightly Parade Of Doggy Humiliation. Surfers Don Their Wetsuits Against The Chill Of Storm Waves And White Sharks Adjust Their Diets To Include Shrink-wrapped Dude-snacks On Fiberglass Crackers.

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One Can't Be Free Without Action.

She Doesn't Understand That A Writer Is A Special Creature--that I'm Different From Everyone Else. I'm Not Saying I'm Superior To Other People, Just More Sensitive, I Guess.

I Think There Was Always Some Scrawny Dreamer Sitting At The Edge Of The Firelight, Who Had The Ability To Imagine Dangers, To Look Into The Future In His Imagination And See Possibilities, And Therefore Survived To Pass His Genes On To The Next Generation.

Stephenie Meyer: Her Vampires Are Sparkly, Which I Think We Can All Agree Is Wrong.

The Angel Has Confided In Me That He Is Going To Ask The Lord If He Can Become Spider-man. [...] The Children Need Heroes, He Says. I Think He Just Wants To Swing From Buildings In Tight Red Jammies.

She's Evil. Evil, Evil, Evil. I Want To See Her Naked.

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Ack! Parables. I Hate Parables.

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Only By Being Prepared For Your Death Can You Ever Truly Live.

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Even A Mentally Challenged Shark Would Figure Out That Sea Turtles Did Not Wear Boxer Shorts Printed In Flying Piggies, And No Sea Turtle Would Be Yattering Streams Of Obscenities Between Chain-smoker Gasps Of Breath.

We Ask The Gods For Answers And They Give Us Questions

I've Got To Think That That Was Unethical," Joshua Said. "josh, Faking Demonic Possession Is Like A Mustard Seed." "how Is It Like A Mustard Seed?" "you Don't Know, Do You? Doesn't Seem At All Like A Mustard Seed, Does It? Now You See How We All Feel When You Liken Things Unto A Mustard Seed? Huh?

Which Is Why You Chose To Wear That Delightful Ensemble From The Skank-wear Collection At Hoes-n-thangs?" -tommy

It Was An Eight-harlot Inn, If That's How You Measure An Inn. (i Understand That Now They Measure Inns In Stars. We Are In A Four-star Inn Right Now. I Don't Know What The Conversion From Harlots To Stars Is.)

Don't Bruise The Foo!

As A Teacher Of Fourth-graders In A Public School, Where Corporal Punishement Was Not Allowed, She Had Years Of Violence Stored Up And Was, Truth Be Told, Sort Of Enjoying Letting It Out On Kona, Who She Felt Could Have Been The Poster Child For The Failure Of Public Education.

You Were Supposed To Empathize With Your Friend's Problem, But They Were, After All, Your Friend's Problems.

She's So Small, Yet She Contains So Much Evil.

Love: The Sickest Of Irony’s Sick Jokes. The Place Where Logic And Order Go To Die.

Tommy Moved On. "lash, Your People Have Been Oppressed For Hundreds Of Years. It's Time To Strike Back. Look, You Don't Have Your Mba Yet - They Haven't Completely Juiced You Of Your Usefulness Yet. Would Martin Luther King Back Down From This Challenge? Malcolm X? James Brown? Don't You Have A Dream? Don't You Feel Good, Like You Knew That You Would, Now?

The Fact That 'a Dirty Job' Has Comedy And Supernatural Horror In It, That Both Are Woven In And Out Of It With A Whimsical Tone, Despite The Fact That It's About Death, Makes It Hard To Characterize With Standard Genre Labels - But I Have No Problem With That. I'd Call It A Funny Story About Death, And Leave It At That.

No One Knows Why, But Second Only To Eating The Brains Of The Living, The Dead Love Affordable Prefab Furniture.

Faith Isn't An Act Of Intelligence, It's An Act Of Imagination.

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