The eighty-eighth installment in our intermittent series.
I guard myself against insults, but even moreso against praise. Anyone who insults me is a fool. With those who praise me, it’s different: only some of them are fools.
The eighty-seventh installment in our occasionally dreadful series.
I channelled Rodney Dangerfield for a moment
and all I got was this natty dread.
The eighty-sixth installment in our divinyl series.
Who’s the God of Insouciance? I’d like to add him on Facebook.
The eighty-fifth installment in our super superficial series.
That girl — she has less of an hourglass, and more of a stopwatch, figure.
The eighty-fourth installment in our inquisitive series.
Answer: More Benson or more Mr. Belvedere?
Question: What’s an effective, question-long personality test?
The eighty-third installment in our periodically dramatic series.
The phrase Lay-Down Comedian is a euphemism for at least two things — as I will now demonstrate for the audience.
The eighty-second installment in our occasionally unusual series.
After reading Le Rochefoucauld, I’m capable of writing only sentence-long maxims. After reading Wodehouse, I can’t restrain myself from effecting the voice of a British aristocrat.
For the present aphorism, then, I’ve conducted an experiment: I read only my interior self.
“Your interior self?” the reader is maybe saying. “That’s impossible.” To which I respond: “You’re confusing the unusual and the impossible. This is an instance of the former.”
The eighty-first installment in our definitely not pornographic series.
I read minds, but just for the articles.
The eightieth installment in our constantly vigilant series.
CORRECTION: In Aphorism #75, I cited a fictional political debate called the Freaking Issue when, in point of fact, the Big Fanta Situation, Great Home-Gym Concern, or Panty Removal Initiative would have been more pleasing for the reader.