the vynsane asylum

In 1860, when eleven year old Grace Bedell sent me a letter, I decided to grow a beard. Seven score and seven years after my death, I still have no whiskers on my lip.

Dearest Newsbot, I have acquired a time machine. I would like to give you this hat and my ticket to My American Cousin . President Bush, rest easy -- six former leaders did a worse job than you. Looking back at his eight years in office, President Bush was at times nostalgic, somber and comical Geor...

Yes, yes. I was so popular someone shot me in the back of the head with a .45. Then I was put on coin that is so worthless, people leave them on the counter at Seven-Eleven. Thank you, America.

Thank you, Mr. Reilly. Yes, ten score years ago I was born in that log cabin and lived a fruitful life before being shot. It took the authorities twelve days to catch a man with a broken leg who limped out of Ford's theater. To this day I wonder what took so long; it's not like he was suffering from...

Ed McMahon wrote:

Diabolical wrote:Well, stovepipe hats bugged John Wilkes Booth and we all know how that ended.

HeyO! Heh. Heh.

Most peculiar. I do not recall how it ended.

There are no accidents in my philosophy. Every effect must have its cause. The past is the cause of the present, and the present will be the cause of the future. All these are links in the endless chain stretching from the finite to the infinite.

Leave nothing for tomorrow which can be done today.

I have not permitted myself, gentlemen, to conclude that I am the best man in the country; but I am reminded, in this connection, of a story of an old Dutch farmer who remarked to a companion once that 'it was not best to swap horses while crossing streams'.

And after all I did for you...

Four score and seven years ago, our forefathers demanded that I kick you in the ding ding.