|Proverbs, aphorisms, quotations (English)||by Linux fortune|
|"I turn on my television set. I see a young lady who goes under the guise|
of being a Christian, known all over the nation, dressed in skin-tight
leather pants, shaking and wiggling her hips to the beat and rythm of the
music as the strobe lights beat their patterns across the stage and the
band plays the contemporary rock sound which cannot be differentiated from
songs by the Grateful Dead, the Beatles, or anyone else. And you may try
to tell me this is of God and that it is leading people to Christ, but I
-- Jimmy Swaggart, hypocritical sexual pervert and TV preacher, self-described
pornography addict, "Two points of view: 'Christian' rock and roll.",
The Evangelist, 17(8): 49-50.
|It's just a jump to the left|
And then a step to the right.
Put your hands on your hips
And pull your knees in tight.
It's the pelvic thrust
That really gets you insa-a-a-a-ane
LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!
-- Rocky Horror Picture Show
| Everthing is farther away than it used to be. It is even twice as|
far to the corner and they have added a hill. I have given up running for
the bus; it leaves earlier than it used to.
It seems to me they are making the stairs steeper than in the old
days. And have you noticed the smaller print they use in the newspapers?
There is no sense in asking anyone to read aloud anymore, as everbody
speaks in such a low voice I can hardly hear them.
The material in dresses is so skimpy now, especially around the hips
and waist, that it is almost impossible to reach one's shoelaces. And the
sizes don't run the way they used to. The 12's and 14's are so much smaller.
Even people are changing. They are so much younger than they used to
be when I was their age. On the other hand people my age are so much older
than I am.
I ran into an old classmate the other day and she has aged so much
that she didn't recognize me.
I got to thinking about the poor dear while I was combing my hair
this morning and in so doing I glanced at my own reflection. Really now,
they don't even make good mirrors like they used to.
Sandy Frazier, "I Have Noticed"
| On this morning in August when I was 13, my mother sent us out pick|
tomatoes. Back in April I'd have killed for a fresh tomato, but in August
they are no more rare or wonderful than rocks. So I picked up one and threw
it at a crab apple tree, where it made a good *splat*, and then threw a tomato
at my brother. He whipped one back at me. We ducked down by the vines,
heaving tomatoes at each other. My sister, who was a good person, said,
"You're going to get it." She bent over and kept on picking.
What a target! She was 17, a girl with big hips, and bending over,
she looked like the side of a barn.
I picked up a tomato so big it sat on the ground. It looked like it
had sat there a week. The underside was brown, small white worms lived in it,
and it was very juicy. I stood up and took aim, and went into the windup,
when my mother at the kitchen window called my name in a sharp voice. I had
to decide quickly. I decided.
A rotten Big Boy hitting the target is a memorable sound, like a fat
man doing a belly-flop. With a whoop and a yell the tomatoee came after
faster than I knew she could run, and grabbed my shirt and was about to brain
me when Mother called her name in a sharp voice. And my sister, who was a
good person, obeyed and let go -- and burst into tears. I guess she knew that
the pleasure of obedience is pretty thin compared with the pleasure of hearing
a rotten tomato hit someone in the rear end.
-- Garrison Keillor, "Lake Wobegon Days"