This was in a paper from the West Coast

One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. – unknown

While getting some “donated” furniture for the living room a few months agoInside the nice hutch was a bottle of Dom Pérignon from 1982! sealed in the box, unopened.

This weekend I opened it and drank it.
No special occasion, we were drinking Champagne, anyway.
Not to be confused with sparking wine.

It ain’t Champagne, unless its from Champage, a province in France.
What does a 24 year old bottle of wine taste like?

Coffee. maybe because it had fermented that long, OR it could have been the chocolate covered expresso beans I was nibbling on…or I was just plain drunk.

Not sure if it was overload of what was going on in the news or pre-thankgivings angst.
I hardly ever have dreams but last week had the weirdest dream.

Fade in:

I’m on my way to a meeting (somewhere) and walking down a long hallway.
I bump into Vice President Dick Cheney, who makes a comment about how good I smell.
(This summer I started using AXE body spray deodorant, comes in six fragrances)

, I usually wear Essence, which is described as:

“Essence brings out the sweet, polite, jewelry-buying, “aw, shucks” side of you that girls want. Along with the racy, adventurous, expert knot-tying, “saddle up” side that girls need. It’s good. It’s bad. It’s exactly what she’s looking for.”

So the VP is telling me how great I smell and he will give me a whole case of soda if I give him a whole case of my AXE deodorant.

He then produces a wooden crate case with plain bottles of soda with white labels which I notice has the coke-cola formula typed on it in small letters.

I then go into a room, where my a friend of mine is and a cousin who i havent seen since he went to MIT.
I ask them both if I should do the trade?

They say we have to go to a meeting and don’t have time.

We exit the room and Dick Cheney is still standing in the hall waiting with his case of sodas with a secret service guy we walk right pass them.

Fade out. Dream ends.

Anyone care to interpret this?

English is a crazy language.
There is no egg in the eggplant No ham in the hamburger.
And neither pine nor apple in the pineapple.
English muffins were not invented in England.
French fries were not invented in France.
We sometimes take English for granted But if we examine its paradoxes we find that Quicksand takes you down slowly, Boxing rings are square.

And a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
If writers write, how come fingers don’t fing.
If the plural of tooth is teeth. Shouldn’t the plural of phone booth be phone beeth, If the teacher taught, Why didn’t the preacher praught?

If a vegetarian eats vegetables. What the does a humanitarian eat? Why do people recite at a play, Yet play at a recital? Park on driveways and Drive on parkways.
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy.

Of a language where a house can burn up as it burns down.
And in which you fill in a form by filling it out. And a bell is only heard once it goes!
English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (Which of course isn’t a race at all)

That is why when the stars are out they are visible, but when the lights are out they are invisible, and why it is that when I wind up my watch it starts, but when I wind up this observation, it ends.

kis?met Pronunciation Key (kzmt, -mt)
n.
Fate; fortune.

[Turkish, from Persian qismat, from Arabic qisma, lot, from qasama, to divide, allot. See qsm in Semitic Roots.]

Had a bit of cosmic KISMET last Friday.
I was going to dump some mp3 on a friend Iriver H-10 and I was bumping the 2001 classic hip-hop album
“Disposable Arts” which he never heard (hmmm, if YOU havent, you should)

Long story short around 1amish we are hanging in front of my building and a neighbor decides to go on a
White Castle run.
4 of us pile in his truck and what CD do you think is in his deck?

Masta Ace “Disposable Arts”.

What are the odds?