I Do Some Eccentric Dancing.

New York Walking Isn't Exercise: It's A Continually Showing Make-your-own Movie.

I Do Not Know What The Cat Can Have Eaten. Usually I Know Exactly What The Cat Has Eaten. Not Only Have I Fed It To The Cat, At The Cat's Insistence, But The Cat Has Thrown It Up On The Rug, And Someone Has Tracked It All Over Onto The Other Rug. I Do Not Know Why Cats Are Such Habitual Vomiters. They Do Not Seem To Enjoy It, Judging By The Sounds They Make While They Are Doing It. It's Their Nature. A Dog Is Going To Bark. A Cat Is Going To Vomit.

Perhaps The Truth Is That Heavy Literature Blooms In Extremes Of Temperature.

I Heard On Public Radio Recently, There's A Thing Called Weed Dating. Singles Get Together In A Garden And Weed And Then They Take Turns, They Keep Matching Up With Other People. Two People Will Weed Down One Row And Switch Over With Two Other People. It's In Vermont. I Don't Think I'd Be Very Good At Weed Dating.

Usage Ain't Always A Matter Of Ought.