"Are Poets a Waste? Opera!" Says Tina

Word-geek intercourse with that party-girl wordplay breeds many a whimsical thought.
While Tina can refuse to believe that poets are just more refuse produced in life,
she can't really console her stereo console after it was forced to play opera. And how
is this for weird: not only do we initially make the rotten mess when we dust our countertops with dough, but we also find ourselves in the outrageous
juxtaposition of having to dust it a second time so that it won't look rotten.

Have you ever experienced that numb feeling of expressing mild enthusiasm for a rotten
joke just to end the deafening silence? A sure bet at even odds is a perplexing thought.
An original copy of a live recording of a rock opera about a little giant is too outrageous
and wholesome for me. I'm hopelessly optimistic that my awfully good still life
of an authentic replica of dry wine won't be your least favorite. It's amazing that our
resident aliens who are only vaguely aware of our rules of speech can understand how

to read in English with any certainty. Take the word fast. Ever realize in just how
many parts of speech it can be used? Count 'em. Being on a fast is a rotten
way to spend the weekend. As for me, I'd rather be driving our
fast new car. Understand that I really don't spend a lot of thought
on it, but live fast and die young is my philosophy of life.
I'm going to read a Howard Fast novel while I fast this weekend. Outrageous,

isn't it? One wickedly wonderful way which words work is in the outrageous
coincidences that anagrams can create. For instance, how
creepy is it when you realize that Princess Diana, whose life
ended in a car wreck, anagrams out to end is a car spin? And only rotten
luck can account for mother-in-law anagramming to woman Hitler. I thought
circumstantial evidence becoming can ruin a selected victim was mind-boggling but our