Off At Tangents: Reticulum Sonata 88

When you die, die with dignity, not screaming into the abyss with wet trousers.

Shut me up with small beans that remind me of San Francisco.

"There's no place I've known. There's no place I've known. There's no place I've known." Dorothy chanted, clicking her heels. Years of experimenting with the ruby slippers had taught her this trick, which granted her nigh immortality. Passing the early years got boring, but gave her the time she needed to plan her next life. So far she'd mastered dozens of sciences, worked countless careers (some more practical than others, such as that one time she grew up to be an exotic dancer) and seen so very much of the world. And she remembered it all. She remembered in so well, that she figured within three more lives she'd figure out a practical means of eternal youth. America in the early 1900s was lovely, but she was sure the future would bring the greatest wonders of all, and she planned to be a part of them.

Unusual fortune cookie messages #7: "Foster the environment for stiff defecation."

Anemone corrosive.  

Mustard Fingers of the Floating Magenta Steeplejack

Soil is really poop when you consider how many animals have lived on the Earth in its 4.5 billion years.

Sacks of blown diffusers.

Who's in the mood for making a turntable large enough to play Saturn's rings?

Rosalee made toast out of five loaves of bread and then laid the toast from end-to-end on each step of her house.