Quote:
Originally Posted by montsnmags
Granted: having dug up poor Leibniz's dusty bones, you drag them to the lecturn, climb up in the rib-cage, and tell your audience "...and that finishes my lecture". That's pretty sick, Patricia. No wonder the police were called.
I wish there was an afterlife and that I could talk to the dead.
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Granted. The dead all laugh at you and drag up all the embarrassing moments in your life to show you how inferior they think you are. And they won't answer any of your questions.
I wish for more food on the list besides lunch meat and chocolate. (But I can live with the Sherry-Sack....)