Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole?
[…] we took our courage in both hands and started at the first break in the downpour. The valley was choked with mist, and the road in a state of unutterable slabbiness: yet our enterprise was soon rewarded, for the weather had done its worst in the darkness, and the sunshine brought the vapours steaming up out of the meadows and banished them with the clouds across the summits of the hills.
You know where you never see a camcorder? At a funeral. Wouldn't that be fun? Especially if you didn't know any of the people there. Why not go to a stranger's funeral, and bring your camcorder? Have a little fun! Zoom in on the corpse's nose hairs. Then pull back, and pan over to the widow's tears. Get a tight shot of that. Do a montage of people wracked with grief. Then go home and put a laugh track on it! Smoke a joint and show it to your friends. That would be a lot of fun.
As expected, she's sitting in the stand, holding a hot dog in one hand and balancing a coldie and a cigarette in the other.
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