My Type Of Humor Is Me Not

When You Think About It, The End Of The World Is A Little Bit Like Death: We All Know It's Going To Come Eventually, And As We Get Older, We Feel We See The Signs More And More Distinctly.

This Is Not To Say There Are Not Chicagoans. But I Would Suggest That They Are A Nomadic People, Whose Lost Home Exists Only In Their Minds, And In The Glowing Crystal Memory Cells They All Carry In The Palms Of Their Hands: A Great Idea Of A Second City, Lit With Life And Love, Reasonable Drink Prices At Cool Bars, And, Of Course, Blocks And Blocks Of Bright And Devastating Fire.

Houdini, The Magician Who Debunked Magic, Could Not Bear To See The Great Rationalist [arthur Conan] Doyle Enchanted By Ghosts And Frauds. And So He Did What Any Friend Would: He Set Out To Prove Spiritualism False And Rob His Friend Doyle Of The Only Comforting Fiction That Was Keeping Him Sane. It Was The Least He Could Do.

I Don't Wish To Brag, But I'm Very Intelligent.

Life May Be Miraculous In Its Unlikelihood In The Universe, But It Would Be A Fallacy To Suggest That Its Rareness Makes It Inextinguishable.