(You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
Whether you can hear it or not,
The universe is laughing behind your back.)
Remember the Pueblo.
Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, and
mutilate.
Know yourself.
If you need help, call the FBI.
Exercise cautionin your daily affairs, especially
with those persons closest to you... That lemon on your left, for
instance.
Be assured that a walk through the seas of most
souls would scarcely get your feet wet.
Fall not in love, therefore, it will stick to
your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth: the
birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan - and let not the sands of time get in
your
lunch.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time, call 606-4311, ask for Ken.
Take heart in the deepening gloom that your dog
is finally getting enough cheese.
And reflect that whatever misfortune may be your
lot, it could only be worse in Milwaukee.
(You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
Whether you can hear it or not,
The universe is laughing behind your back.)
Therefore, make peace with your god, whatever
you perceive him to be: hairy thunderer or cosmic muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises, and urban
renewal, the world continues to deteriorate.
GIVE UP!
(You are a fluke of the universe.
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