Worthless Ideas Trust no one under fifty-five. Thrive, dust, sigh-glow-myth, wonder-sun. Blunder, fun gig, naughty, lust, strive. Live-sea sister, un-done, blow dust. Nerdy words, fun be done. Serial mishap, bad rap. No one or everyone? Under, over? Offer Offer her your hand. She lost hers in an accident. A private injury it was; renders you shy, they say. Now strike up the band. "Shy of what?" asked the comedian. "Split pea soup and noodles." "Now I understand," he said solemnly. "But isn't that surreal?" she asked, blowing her nose on a spoon attached by a string to a fork. "So what if it is?" he didn't reply. "Are you hurt?" she asked. "Only a little," he replied sobbing pitifully. "Well, quick, say something funny," she said. "That won't make it go away," he replied. Johnny Carson was shy. Almost pathologically so, said Dick Cavett. Almost all comedians are compensating for an injury, said Don Rickles. Poor Don, and so angry. There you have it. No, just in, but not funny: Mitt Romney, anticipating a strong speech on the economy by Barak Obama, stated: "Words are cheap." And, Mr. Romney, are ideas worthless?
	—Louis Martin