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LA | NY A Special Edition of The East Village
Survivor Species Today downgrades the Minotaur to Bullwinkle. Tonight's wrong number delivers matter-of-factly in a singsong twang addressing Jimmy the death of Banky in Florida to my machine, and when the fever breaks I change my teeshirt for the one with the Insectarium de Montreal orange monarch on it whose wings lie right on the lungs like lungs. Narcolepsy lepidoptera, sunburn & insomnia! Listen to how dry the leaves are compared to that survivor species, phragmites, without a peer in the thesaurus, which went extinct eons ago, when a muscled ice age modeled the bedrock. I hear stand-up comics are intelligent,neurotic, competitive, operating at high intensity, operating on another level, burning brightly, fine-tuned, incendiary in person and if unable one day to turn off crack up totally. "What do cats & Maoists have in common?" "Ever get that feeling, festinating down the boulevard, that a tribrach's coming on?" When omelettes unfry themselves then I'll be rich, painting breakfasts for the cook back. Tonight's wrong number is looking for Mike and the minute I'm witty "You're much more interesting than Mike!" "Gee, you caught me on a good night." Bye!
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