I'm surviving strictly on a diet of tuna these days.
It's not so bad; some cats do it.
Not all of them, though.
Some cats eat Chicken Florentine.
Cats who belong to stock brokers.
Cats with names like 'Spreadsheet,' and 'Non-Equitable.'
"Junk Bond! Din-din!"
Maybe when I run out of tuna I'll start eating their cats.
They'll taste superb because they've been so well-fed.
Cats eat flies.
Children eat flies.
And you wouldn't feed a child Chicken Florentine.
This is simple logic, folks.
Modus Polens, maybe.
Sobol? Are you reading this?
Help me out.
Ponens! It's ponens.
I still don't know if that's the right one, though.
I could have been a stock broker, you know.
And I would have been, too.
But I blew out my knee in the championship game.
If that hadn't happened, I'd be singing this song to some woman by now:
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