Donkey, Equation, Man, money, postulates, sleep, Woman
In Pointless Humor on February 4, 2010 at 3:43 pm
Equation 1
Human = eat + sleep + work + enjoy
Donkey = eat + sleep
Therefore: Human = Donkey + Work + enjoy
Therefore: Human-enjoy = Donkey + Work
In other words, A Human that doesn’t know how to enjoy = Donkey that works.
Equation 2
Man = eat + sleep + earn money
Donkey = eat + sleep
Therefore: Man = Donkey + earn money
Therefore: Man-earn money = Donkey
In other words Man who doesn’t earn money = Donkey
Equation 3
Woman= eat + sleep + spend
Donkey = eat + sleep
Therefore: Woman = Donkey + spend
Therefore: Woman – spend = Donkey
In other words, Woman who doesn’t spend = Donkey
To Conclude:
From Equation 2 and Equation 3
Man who doesn’t earn money = Woman who doesn’t spend
So Man earns money not to let woman become a donkey! And a woman spends not to let the man become a donkey!
So, We have:
Man + Woman = Donkey + earn money + Donkey + Spend money
Therefore from postulates 1 and 2, we can conclude
Man + Woman = 2 Donkeys that live happily together!
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91, American Literature, Catcher, Catcher in the Rye, Cornish, David Copperfield, death, Holden, J.D. Salinger
In Chaotic Quote on January 29, 2010 at 7:08 am
Certain authors are like events.
You associate them with the time when they first entered public consciousness. Then they are always there, frozen in time, forever.
This is even truer for J. D. Salinger . After publishing “Catcher in the Rye” in 1951 , which immediately became a bestseller, he was thought to be the most important American writer to emerge since World War II. He died this Wednesday at his home in Cornish. It was socking. May be less shocking than the fact that he was 91 years old when he died.
The very first sentence of “Catcher” struck a brash new note in American literature:
If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.
In 1953, Mr. Salinger fled the literary world altogether and moved to a 90-acre compound on a wooded hillside in Cornish. He seemed to be fulfilling Holden’s desire to build himself
“a little cabin somewhere with the dough I made and live there for the rest of my life,” away from “any goddam stupid conversation with anybody.”
Now that he is gone many tributes and appreciations to Salinger will be in air the coming days. Some will go on fast and others will erect a statue for him. A notion which will surely sound crazy to Holden.
Boy, when you’re dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddamn cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you’re dead? Nobody.
But I’d rather remember Salinger (and Holden Caulfield) with the last words to “Catcher in the Rye,” words that signaled Salinger’s future seclusion even as they allowed for the joy and the pain of human connection:
It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.
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