i'm misunderstanding it so much that i'm almost not under it at all.
hardly since the beginning of time has man ever discovered . . . what tell me!!! what is it that man has never discovered???? please, i must know--it is a matter of life and death. . . . "that's right," he said (the whole in the wall in the wheel of the world). . . . "it's a matter of your life, heh, heh." . . . and then he zapped him with a tompson submachine gun brrrraaapppppp. but the pellets dissolved and scattered into a 1000 tiny motes that resembled pieces of the 160 tons of sunlight that fall to the ground every day. "i'm a sunflower" the perturbed tommygunner cried. "quack, quack!" the captain replied; "after all," he added, "i was only following my own little order-phrame of mind," said humpty the dumpty, who, by this time, had been mistaken and identified mistakenly as one of those participating in the standing under the miss from baltimore. "you duck-egg!" the tommygunner burst out, "how can you talk of ORDER! a point of order! a point of order! mr. share-man, when will you allow me one poise of ardor? one piece of order? one, please, of otherness. GIVE ME A CHANTS!? -- . . . all this and more is what Billy the Surf Bum saw in the now-opened capsule on the end of the dart he was holding in the soon-to-be-empty dating bar in which he (believe it or not) was still standing in fresno beach california, even at this hour in what what was, after all, pacific standard time.
but in the ever-more-erotic and exciting Straight Backwards Time (S.T.B.), Billy the Surf Bum's mother was gazing at her navel (belly-button to you). she was entranced. in her navel were crawling four miniature St. Bernard puppies, each with a cask around its neck containing the hole whorl. "my, mmmmmmmmmy," Billy the Surf Bum's mother was saying. "i do hope my seeking son can bark better than the first. hardly since the beginning of time has man ever discovered. . . . why why why x y y? people should be more aggressive in their searches for trooth. it's more manly that way." trudth trudth, what's all this shit about trudth? anyway hunh?" said Jos, the big affables truck drivers who (as you remember from my last story in this magazine) are always smiling and sending out god vibrations, to, among other people, the Beach Boys. now what it's most important to understand about that argument is that it never really existed (ha! the end came on slow and fooled ya.).