IN MY menagerie, here in Oxford, the birds squabble, the mammals squabble – is there any hope of peace in our time or Ahimsa? Δ
Dūrgā Devī
IN MY menagerie, here in Oxford, the birds squabble, the mammals squabble – is there any hope of peace in our time or Ahimsa? Δ
Dūrgā Devī
There was an old lady who swallowed a horse…
She’s dead, of course!
Becuz everbody know 550 foot-pounds per second are the limit.
Karma and the Kundalini Spirit hath hainted her too deaf.
Why, her gastric juices would’st oft kill horse bacteria without regard to whom they may have been in a qrievous lyfe, as the Wiligut turns_ init.
“UNSER LEBEN GEHT DAHIN WIE EIN GESCHWÄTZ”
(“Our Life Passes Away Like Idle Chatter”).
For the love of māyā! See, feel, smell, touch an ear.
Course, I’d aver Maggee’s squirrels are not the Rhodes kill which some scholars would have them be. See how they Sciuridae? They all run after the Bloody Mary, who’d cut off their tales in a fitual rit of hari-kari; if she’d had half a butcher’s.