in a child’s cry of why and woe is me, my tears filled a teaspoon but i’d swear it was a sea.
Monday, 14 July 2008
I’ve just done you a tremendous favor. I’ve given you proof positive that spelling counts. Smart people who like to learn don’t only make more money, they find more and better porn.
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Merry Holidays, Sed, from a fellow Chalkboard guest. This is one of my favorite places. It's cozy and familiar, the only way I can describe it is: it's a digital fireplace and I'm The Dude and you're like The Stranger, and we're sitting around watching the flames flicker about. And although we never quite see the same pictures in there, that's not a prerequisite, ever, for the privilege to toast our drinks in a merry way - as the evening keeps churning along, almost out of sight, and the night beyond is dark and full of terrors (or so they say).
[Sed · Don’t get cute with me, Mister! You see, Ivan, that’s how the real men react to any sort of sentiment. And are we not men? :P]
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A rich old farmer, who felt that he had not many more days to live, called his sons to his bedside.
“My sons,” he said, “heed what I have to say to you. Do not on any account part with the estate that has belonged to our family for so many generations. Somewhere on it is hidden a rich treasure. I do not know the exact spot, but it is there, and you will surely find it. Spare no energy and leave no spot unturned in your search.”
The father died, and no sooner was he in his grave than the sons set to work digging with all their might, turning up every foot of ground with their spades, and going over the whole farm two or three times.
No hidden gold did they find; but at harvest time when they had settled their accounts and had pocketed a rich profit far greater than that of any of their neighbors, they understood that the treasure their father had told them about was the wealth of a bountiful crop, and that in their industry had they found the treasure.
Take that, subspace.
