More Than True, A journal of. Published under the auspices of the HiSky* Trust, founded 1957 to promote disorder. (*Hiss-Key)
HiSky Trust ReviewYou love me, she said. You love me. Just admit you love me.
But she was too early. Because I didn’t love her yet.
And then it was too late.
There aren’t enough containers in the world to hold all of your desires.
We have a container deficit.
Desire, uncontained!
Desire, lost!
Youthful Spirits by Richard F. Yates
Artist: I need a muse.
Queen: We are not a muse.
Artist: All is forlorn!
Queen: Amuse us!
Artist: But I am without a muse!
Queen: Amuse us then with a tragedy.
Artist: This is the story of an artist without a muse.
Queen: I’ve already heard that one.
Unreasonable expectations at the palace.
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A story about a man and his place in the universe.
A story about the many uses of cell phones.
A story that asks the philosophical question: What is it that makes a chair?
An excerpt from Tragic Stories Disguised as Jokes.
In my upcoming release “At the Existential Sandwich Shop,” like the previous “Perils of Free Thought,” I talk intermittently of bears and robots.
That is because I am a robot bear.
Thank you in advance for your understanding.
There is also a reoccurring motif of baloons.
This is a selection of older material from my first book “Rhyme or Treason, hard fought illusion of choice.” This is basically the sampler CD I used to bring to readings, without the ebook which was included on the CD.
[amazon asin=B002OHD220&template=iframe image]
Emoticon by Richard F. Yates
via his site image links to
I lost my emotions in a previous decade.
Coincided with a war, I think.
I simply put them somewhere and they disappeared. I can only assume someone took them. And somebody is out there right now, you see, playing with my emotions.
People think Trauma Bunny is funny. Yes, even that time he was drowning in honey. People laughed and laughed and helped not at all. It was lucky for the bunny he got out of that sticky situation at all. Nightmares in the day has he. Yes, he is always dreading the return of the bumble bee.
Three men walk into a bar…
At this point a lady asks me, “Why men?” And I say, “It’s a sexist joke.”
This art stolen from Richard F. Yates, C’mon, click it.
Three Swedes walk into a bar. It is full of leprechauns. It is the wrong bar. They are lost. “Who is lost, the Swedes or the leprechauns?”
The Finnish man asks the Irish man how it’s going. “Oh, could be worse. I still have the one leg.” Arbitrary Ethnic Humor.
Science is the cruelest discipline. Followed by comedy.
When science and comedy meet they intersect. And then they are dissected. It is cruel. Doubly so. Cutting.
Three scientists walk into a bar. It is the start of a cruel social experiment. The result is a matter of interpretation. Based on evidence.
One scientist says to the other, “I thought you were in control.”
“No,” says another, “I said I was the control.” Misinterpretation=comedy.
The role of the third scientist is observational. The humor in this needs no explanation, as it is universal.
Three bears walk into a bar. They argue about the relative coldness of the porridge. Then they start to make trouble.
Three Magi walk into a bar. It’s a setup. They are robbed of precious metals and fragrant oils.
Two thousand years later, three mobsters walk into a bar, only to discover that it’s a setup. They sit there, feeling foolish, waiting for the inevitable punchline.
The joke goes right over their heads. They are not the intended audience. No, this joke is not for them.
Three men walk into three different bars, simultaneously. Joke averted.
A Priest, a Rabbi, and a Laughing Hyena walk into a bar. The bartender asks, “Is this a joke?” There are many hurt feelings this day.
Perils of Free Thought: a book of no small danger [amazon asin=B0080AGLNC&template=iframe image]
David Raffin
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