No, I'm Doug

[Eulenspiegel7646 at aol.com]

In the expostulation of the existential post-modern deal, the frazz is equal 
to all known substances.  In the meantime, Terrance & Quail, feeling like a 
one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest, bemoan the fate of the Market, 
while Barbara commiserates.  In an Ideal World, peripatetically, strange 
things begin to befall, swimming through the conscious mess like primordial 
slime. Coffee time.

Irwin Corey
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