If you are missing a testicle is your cup half full or half empty?
If both your testicles are gone are you a total loser or someone with real potential? I keep hearing about people with real potential, and I always wonder whether they have any balls.
What about tits? Tits have cups too. If you're titless, what does that do to the cup equation?
I wrote a poem many decades ago about this question based on an anecdote told to me by Mrs. Faustroll. It was a poem about how we measure things. My life has been consumed with measurements, none of which have given me any clue to whether what I have been measuring really matters. Comment to remind me to track that poem down and post it and link from this paragraph. The smack is kicking in and I can't focus and I still have half a pint of grain to go and I get really obnoxious when I can't find stuff.
As I have said repeatedly since elementary school when Mr. Katz gave me an encyclopedia of scientific knowledge: matter is the least interesting form of energy. You can only matter when you are inert, according to that ancient tome, which my brother apparently sold at a flea market a few decades ago when I was pursuing the ultimate high and he was pursuing whatever the fuck my little brother pursues.
Clichés shape existence. I exist solely in the English language. I attempt to understand the rest of the world in translation. Most of the rest of the world is as boring and stupid and totally without redeeming social value as the NOMF™, and I understand that many of the visitors to this site are simply click farmers who don't even read anything I write.
What's so wrong with that?
I wrote a book about the end of the world we are currently experiencing as a minor inconvenience called Trout's Tale between 1970-1984. I had an agent ask to look at it to possibly represent me to make us both rich and immortal because he had purchased a Yossarian Universal News Service press card and figured that I wrote the same kind of stuff as Paul Fericano. Wrong.
I can't remember the name of the agent but his response to Trout's Tale was that he couldn't pitch it because people would equate it with Wayne's World. It was obvious the bloviating bunghole had never gotten past page four, and I wrote back telling him that if he was ever in Oregon and wanted somebody to show him exactly how to shove his head up his ass for real, I'd be more than happy to help him with that.
He never responded, and I'm sure his testicles are happier than they would have been had he responded.
I did fuck his daughter who apparently thought my e-mail was hilarious, and I would have fucked his son too, except he was too submissive.