What Worth Was A Man Who Could

Zombies Are The Liberal Nightmare. Here You Have The Masses, Whom You Would Love To Love, Appearing At Your Front Door With Their Faces Falling Off; And You're Trying To Be As Humane As You Possibly Can, But They Are, After All, Eating The Cat. And The Fear Of Mass Activity, Of Mindlessness On A National Scale, Underlies My Fear Of Zombies.

No Tears, Please. It's A Waste Of Good Suffering.

Why'd You Want To Sing About Sad Things?" Candy Had Asked Him. "because Any Fool Can Be Happy," He'd Said To Her. "it Takes A Man With Real Heart" —he'd Made A Fist And Laid It Against His Chest— "to Make Beauty Out Of The Stuff That Makes Us Weep.

Welcome To The Worst Nightmare Of All, Reality!

Anyway, It's Gone. And There's Nothing Left In My Pocket To Charm You. So From Now On It's Going To Have To Be Tears Or Nothing I'm Afraid. That's All I've Got Left To Tell You See: Tears, Tears, Tears.