_ Are you putting any money on the derby this year?
_ I like to wear mine at a rakish angle, so it would most likely fall off.
_ The Kentucky Derby.
_ I actually got it at the Susquehanna Hat Company.
_ The run for the roses.
_ The point of no return supplanting the 'You Are Here' sign with a new one that states 'You Are Here'. Sort of like retracing your steps through the trackless desert of time, and wondering why you've sand in your shoes.
_ Slip into the mainstream every now and then, kiddo. It might do you some good. Hell, it might do us all a world of good to have you wet your beak in the same birdbath as the rest of us. Besides, you might get lucky and pick a winner; maybe you'll win a couple of quid.
_ The Kentucky Derby... now I remember. As I recall, the last thing you want your man in the silks seeing is a horse's ass. Ride 'em high on the haunches... Two mint juleps here, Colonel. And here's a hundred to put on the slowest horse in the race. In fact, if the nag were smart, it wouldn't move at all. It's already there, so why burn the morning oats? Just stand right where you are, horsie, and win what the others are running like damn fools after - renown.
_ There's a place for horses who don't run after they've been saddled-up and had a midget loaded on their backs. It's called the dog food farm.
_ We all gotta eat.
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... Flying carpets made of wool, silk and macadam. We travel on cushions of air. On what does air travel? We travel, travel, travel... busy men and busy women; our children are raised by strangers. We know and condone this because we get paid for our silence concerning it. No worries... All roads lead to home. And we all ride on a cushion of air, with the dwarf, who abides in the middle, unshaken though the seas are roiling. He would slyly smile, but that would blow his transcendent cool.
" ... Supporting this mighty universe with but a single fragment of My self, I remain unchanged and transcendent."
Srimad Bhagavad Gita 10:42
... When something strange happens are you aware of the strangeness of the backdrop wherein nothing happens? Does it occur to any of us that within all of the insane happenings of life, nothing is ever happening? I would say that my socks don't match, but they do. They match the one's that are not here. You know that as well as I do. My hat, though worn at a rakish angle, matches perfectly with the derby in Kentucky.
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