There are strings. And there are theories. That’s all I know. That’s all I want to know. Now fix me a tuna cacciatore, and make it quick.
At the Dairy Queen oh-so-long ago, in the intermission between Saturday night movies at the Rex Theatre, some boys would buy a soft drink with a famous name (rhymes with bloke), add the contents of a once famous headache powder (rhymes with hex) mix it up, and, gasp, drink it. It gave them a little high. That’s all I know, your magnificence.
Did you know that dogs are being cloned nowadays? Yes, they are, friends, so why should the rest of us miss out? Personally, I kind of like the idea that there’s only one of each and every one of us, but technology is amok in the world. What do you reckon? Love and a dusting of fairy sparkles from Dr On Mars (call me last, go on).