If You Like What You're Reading, I

This Roberto. He No Like The Light.

If They'd Been Dogs, They Would Have All Been In The Yard Eating Grass And Trying To Yak Up Whatever Was Making Them Feel So Lousy. Not A Bone Gnawed, Not A Ball Chased-all Tails Went Unwagged. Oh, Life Is A Fast Cat, A Short Leash, A Flea In That Place Where You Just Can't Scratch.

The Prospect Of Change Is A Many-fanged Beast, My Dear.

Words, Words, Words, A Million Million Words Circle In My Head Like Hawks, Waiting To Dive Onto The Page To Rend And Tear The Only Two Words I Want To Write. Why Me?

No Theory Ever Benefited By The Application Of Data, Amy. Data Kills Theories. A Theory Has No Better Time Than When It's Lying There Naked, Pure, Unsullied By Facts. Let's Just Keep It That Way For A While." "so You Don't Really Have A Theory?" "clueless." "you Lying Bag Of Fish Heads." "i Can Fire You, You Know. Even If Clay Was The One That Hired You, I'm Not Totally Superfluous To This Operation Yet. I'm Kind Of In Charge. I Can Fire You. Then How Will You Live?" "i'm Not Getting Paid." "see, Right There. Perfectly Good Concept Ruined By The Application Of Fact.