"Impossible..."- Esquire Magazine, 1964
"The World's third most accurate Impossiblist of 1971."
- Wodenferd Academy of Impossible Sciences
As you well know, I am a Christian Impossiblist and I would never sacrifice my faith in Jesus Christ to make a quick buck from one of those trashy Journals of Impossiblism. I self-publish all of my own findings.
Travel back ten thousand years - and science has proved this beyond the doubt - a man was only one foot tall. Go back even before this, to our ancient forebears, and science knows the very first man was only a speck. These primitive men hunted mites and built their shelters from dandruff. They were so tiny that a million could live in the feathers of a sparrow.
To think, coming from that miniscule existence to a strapping man of nearly six feet! You can see we have grown to an immense size in what is, to the ageless mountains, a very short time indeed. It should come as no great surprise that within the passing of only one more decade men are expected to be born already nine feet tall. These immense babies will grow to 30 and possibly even 40 feet in height as adults.
A fine time, looking over the top of a church, but not so fast! Women will not grow at all, remaining as they are and as they always have been. Conception will be difficult and there will be a terrible reduction in the rate of births. Though men will be larger, the decrease in population will mean there will be the exact mass of men in 100 years as there is currently. Such are the bitter ironies of the future.
My anglocentricity has sometimes been mistaken for crude racism, but make no mistake, I have great respect and affection for American blacks and their advances in musical science.Word has come to me through channels both academic and esoteric that American blacks are on the cusp of achieving a breakthrough in musical science. Not since Jellybone Samson first hooted upon a jug has American musical science felt such an upheaval. Called "rap talking", the technique blends the use of a computerized "beat box" synchronized with a man speaking.
Of course, the blacks will talk about the things such as they do. Their dancing and their shenanigans, and I mean them no offense, but their concerns are baser. Imagine the power of the beat box if unlocked by the likes of Buddy Murphy or Sweet Dan Michaels. The white musical scientist could transform this rap talking into a revolution akin to the discovery of the violin. Imagine, the beat box blurting out its tune, and a well-dressed gentleman speaking calmly about mathematics or aeronautics.
Within ten years the first white rap talker will unlock the secrets of the beat box and change the face of musical science. You can bet your house on it!
No parlor trick, these. I offer honest predictions of the days to come.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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