Tuesday, July 4, 2017


If I became famous, 
I'd have to live up to myself,
which would become distasteful.

Success is no guarentee
of happiness...just ask
Richard Corey...
fame is a scam.

Ask Jimi, Jim and Janice...
ask Martin, John and Bobby...
ask all of Hillary's corpses...
these days, better keep your
brilliance as a hobby.

Talents you have they sell in
the market
you become 
the product...
Soylent Green:
it's not just food 


At July 4, 2017 at 1:46 PM , Blogger John Tischer said...

Richard Corey by Edward Arlington Robinson

Richard Corey

WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
  We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
  Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
  And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
  "Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king,
  And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
  To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
  And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
  Went home and put a bullet through his head.


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