Zen Yogi: people, you know, Silas ... you can't live with them; you can't eat them
You're not thinking of eating me, are you, Yogi?
Zen Yogi: well, no, Silas. I don't think anything at all is thinking of eating you.
It's the story of my sad life, Yogi.
Zen Yogi: I'm feeling it, Brother Silas
So long as you're not feeling like eating me, it's all good.
Zen Yogi: there are so many angry people, Silas. What's the trouble with them?
Well, see, they get old and they get this rheumatism. It makes them tell fishing stories over and over and they don't remember things so well.
Zen Yogi: so why aren't you angry?
It's my job to make them angry, see. I do remember and that really fries their goose eggs.
Zen Yogi: those must be some huge eggs!
Well, from the standpoint of a chicken they would be, Yogi.
Zen Yogi: we probably don't need Egg Zen just now
Probably not.
Zen Yogi: they keep saying the South will rise again
Probably not if it doesn't float, Yogi. (New Orleans Advocate: New Orleans drainage at mercy of ancient, often broken power plant; cost for full upgrade: $1 billion)
Zen Yogi: I guess they didn't advocate too much for a new power plant before?
It doesn't look like it, Yogi.
Zen Yogi: did you ever play putt-putt golf, Silas?
Actually, I have, Yogi, and I participated for some years on the P3T.
Zen Yogi: what is P3T
That's the Professional Putt-Putt Tour and we don't get money and drugs as with PGA but we get the hot babes.
Zen Yogi: hot babes like putt-putt golf?
It's one of my love secrets, my furry buddy.
Zen Yogi: what if she wins?
Of course she will win, Yogi, but you will lose so gracefully.
Zen Yogi: that's throwing the match!
Sure it is but go ahead and get competitive over putt-putt golf and see her disappear faster than you can say in Tombstone, "Slap leather, cowboy."
Tip: hearing that means you're about to get shot.
Zen Yogi: do you have any other lessons on love, Silas?
I do but none of them are likely to work (sob).
Zen Yogi: it's so sad
Not really, Yogi, since I can eat fried chicken all day now.
Dick: let them eat quail
Zen Yogi: STFU Dick
Cripes, Yogi, how much cosmic radiation damage does one's brain need to suffer before eating quail becomes a valid idea. Maybe you would have to shoot half a dozen of the little fuckers to make a meal and that's a whole lotta bird death for one crumby snack.
Zen Yogi: does it make any difference to the cosmic spirituality if it's one bird death or six?
Well, Yogi; I imagine it probably does make a large difference to five birds.
Zen Yogi: Bird Zen?
We probably don't need that either.
You're not thinking of eating me, are you, Yogi?
Zen Yogi: well, no, Silas. I don't think anything at all is thinking of eating you.
It's the story of my sad life, Yogi.
Zen Yogi: I'm feeling it, Brother Silas
So long as you're not feeling like eating me, it's all good.
Zen Yogi: there are so many angry people, Silas. What's the trouble with them?
Well, see, they get old and they get this rheumatism. It makes them tell fishing stories over and over and they don't remember things so well.
Zen Yogi: so why aren't you angry?
It's my job to make them angry, see. I do remember and that really fries their goose eggs.
Zen Yogi: those must be some huge eggs!
Well, from the standpoint of a chicken they would be, Yogi.
Zen Yogi: we probably don't need Egg Zen just now
Probably not.
Zen Yogi: they keep saying the South will rise again
Probably not if it doesn't float, Yogi. (New Orleans Advocate: New Orleans drainage at mercy of ancient, often broken power plant; cost for full upgrade: $1 billion)
Zen Yogi: I guess they didn't advocate too much for a new power plant before?
It doesn't look like it, Yogi.
Zen Yogi: did you ever play putt-putt golf, Silas?
Actually, I have, Yogi, and I participated for some years on the P3T.
Zen Yogi: what is P3T
That's the Professional Putt-Putt Tour and we don't get money and drugs as with PGA but we get the hot babes.
Zen Yogi: hot babes like putt-putt golf?
It's one of my love secrets, my furry buddy.
Zen Yogi: what if she wins?
Of course she will win, Yogi, but you will lose so gracefully.
Zen Yogi: that's throwing the match!
Sure it is but go ahead and get competitive over putt-putt golf and see her disappear faster than you can say in Tombstone, "Slap leather, cowboy."
Tip: hearing that means you're about to get shot.
Zen Yogi: do you have any other lessons on love, Silas?
I do but none of them are likely to work (sob).
Zen Yogi: it's so sad
Not really, Yogi, since I can eat fried chicken all day now.
Dick: let them eat quail
Zen Yogi: STFU Dick
Cripes, Yogi, how much cosmic radiation damage does one's brain need to suffer before eating quail becomes a valid idea. Maybe you would have to shoot half a dozen of the little fuckers to make a meal and that's a whole lotta bird death for one crumby snack.
Zen Yogi: does it make any difference to the cosmic spirituality if it's one bird death or six?
Well, Yogi; I imagine it probably does make a large difference to five birds.
Zen Yogi: Bird Zen?
We probably don't need that either.
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