flushed ego to zero,
set goal to here, now.
My arrow is a boomerang.
Chain gang works crucible
against grain.
I got plumb tongue.
Lady K
“You are a fustery man. I love you.”
Ditto, dudess.
“You’re not parallel to the x or y axis. You’re an oblique asymptote.”
I’m the axis of even, the Wizard of Odd.
“Oh, dear. Ah, a curve can intersect its asymptote, even infinitely many times. I’ll be your curve. You had all this stuff, didn’t you? You had Calculus.”
I had all that stuff.
“I’m thinking I should practice some math. Just to make sure I still have it. I used to do Calculus problems for fun. I’m really crazy.”
I reduce my mathematical functions to off/on, stop/go, yes/no, now/not now.
“I like that. You’re binary.”
I’m binary. Yes. I’m the Six Billionth Binary Man.
“Hello, Unit One.”
I want to be Unit Zero.
“I am Unit Zero. Take me to your leader. Are you my leader?”
I’m your leader. I used to be a quart, but now I’m a liter.
This is the kind of humor Groucho Marx used.
“Do you think he smoked?”
I think he smoked. I read about him doing some acid.
Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana.
“I like that one. That’s like a popping tile pattern.”