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Address change in Paris

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  • #16
    strange, never heard this argument before...


    I did hear Bono and U2 sing "every poet is a thief,"but it clearly does not mention anything about our friendly landlords!


    plus,I realize you speak philosophy, but landlords are not thieves, they are part of the system like anyone else, they have to pay taxes and pay the bank. They are just another link in the someone paying someone game, right?
    haha!

    don't take me seriously,on this!

    -Lem'

    "With a deep, not-unhappy sigh, Elric prepared to do battle with an army." (Red Pearls)
    - Michael Moorcock

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    • #17
      We are all thieves...
      \"...an ape reft of his tail, and grown rusty at climbing, who yet feels himself to be a symbol and the frail representative of Omnipotence in a place that is not home.\" James Branch Cabell

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      • #18
        Are you sure the landlord said "wifi"? Maybe he actually said: "Oui, Fi", meaning that Fiona, the neighbour, has Internet connection?

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        • #19
          Or prehaps he meant 'wiffy' with regards to the Parisian sewage system?
          _"For an eternity Allard was alone in an icy limbo where all the colours were bright and sharp and comfortless.
          _For another eternity Allard swam through seas without end, all green and cool and deep, where distorted creatures drifted, sometimes attacking him.
          _And then, at last, he had reached the real world – the world he had created, where he was God and could create or destroy whatever he wished.
          _He was supremely powerful. He told planets to destroy themselves, and they did. He created suns. Beautiful women flocked to be his. Of all men, he was the mightiest. Of all gods, he was the greatest."

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          • #20
            I'm stealing some of your ideas...

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            • #21
              Originally posted by Doc
              I'm stealing some of your ideas...
              Naturally, my dear Doc, naturally...

              A doctor is lowered on a wire.
              Doctor: Good morning.
              Mrs O: Oh, morning, doctor.
              Doctor: How's the old arm this morning, Mrs Ikon?
              Mrs Trepidatious: Oh, it's still hanging off at the shoulder.
              Doctor: Good, well lets have a look at it, shall we? (he tries unsuccessfully to open his bag) Oh damn, damn, damn, damn... damn this wretched bag... oh the wretched, damn, bloody, little bag. It's the one thing I hate about being a doctor - it's this wretched bloody little bag!
              He smashes a chair over it and finally produces a revolver and shoots the lock off. It opens and is stuffed full of pound notes, some of which spill out. He feels inside... eventually pulls out a stethoscope.
              Doctor: What's that doing here? (he throws it away)
              Cut to another doctor walking along a street. The stethoscope flies out of window and lands on him.
              Second Doctor: (brushing it off) Eurgggh!
              Cut back to the first doctor still rummaging in black bag. Eventually, he produces a pair of black kid gloves and a black handkerchief. He folds it and puts it on and points the gun at Mrs Trepidatious.
              Doctor: Hand over the money. (she goes to a sideboard opens the bottom drawer and gets out a money box which she gives to him) Come on, all of it! (she looks scared; he jabs the gun at her; she goes over to a painting of a wall-safe on the wall and pushes it aside to reveal an identical wall-safe underneath. She opens it and a hand comes out holding a money box; she takes and gives it to the doctor) Yes, that seems to be OK. Right! I'll just test your reflexes! (he opens his mac like a flasher; they scream and jump) Right, now then, everything seems to be OK, I'll see you next week. Keep collecting the pensions, and try not to spend too much on food. (he starts to go up)
              Mrs Trepidatious: Thank you, doctor. (he disappears)

              Cut to a hospital ward. A man in bed, a chair with his clothes on it at the foot of the bed. A doctor entes and goes right for the jacket and starts to feel in the pockets.
              Doctor: Morning, Mr Henson ... How are we today?
              Henson: Not too bad, doctor.
              Doctor: OK, take it easy ... (he empties his wallet and puts it back) Expecting any postal orders this week?
              Henson: No.
              Doctor: Righto.
              A nurse comes and gets the loose change. The doctor goes to the next bed where there is a man entirely in traction.
              Doctor: Ah, Mr Rodgers, have you got your unemployment benefit please? Right. Well can you write me a cheque then... please?
              The patient writes him a cheque. He goes to the foot of the bed. There is a graph with a money symbol on it. He marks it down further.
              Doctor: Thank you very much. Soon have you down to nothing. Ah, Mr Millichope. (he smiles and leaves, passing a man with a saline drip full of coins; chink of money)

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