an earnest apology
I would like to begin this entry by letting you all in on the joke. I literally cannot do so, however, if you are expecting a joke. A joke is only killed by One thing, and one thing alone. A silver bullet.
To fire a silver bullet, one must first have a very fine violin from which one can play the joke. The first step to playing a joke is, in fact, entirely easy. The difficult part, is this:
Getting lessons, if you can, will not necessarily prevent defeat, if, however, one attends an ideal clown college, they may rest easy if they choose to do so.
Sadly, I have to admit that it gets slightly more complicated. In order for a player to even compete, he or she must first obtain a *master's* doctorate of clowns. More complicated still, if one is not yet able to play, often Doctrate Doctors of superior experience will with merely one or two inane magic tricks win a player's trust. The players who are not tricked by the magic are then forced to put on a silly hat.
This hat, Doctrateors call the "Magic Hat." And trust me, it most certainly is magic. If you doubt that the Magic Hat is Magic any educated dunce will eviscerate you with pleasure for your mistaken belief. For this reason, I urge all of you, each and every reader, to refer to the magic hat as "The Magic Hat," simply so as to maintain a healthfully verbose ambiance. Trust me on this one. Call it "The Magic Hat."
One can know whether or not any hat is magical with an act of precision. To execute this act, one must wave their violin and play with the utmost passion and conviction and poetry one single pure and shining, straight and narrow, intimately revealing, perfect sparkling deadly silver bullet. Or in clown terminology a "punched line."
To fire a silver bullet, one must first have a very fine violin from which one can play the joke. The first step to playing a joke is, in fact, entirely easy. The difficult part, is this:
Getting lessons, if you can, will not necessarily prevent defeat, if, however, one attends an ideal clown college, they may rest easy if they choose to do so.
Sadly, I have to admit that it gets slightly more complicated. In order for a player to even compete, he or she must first obtain a *master's* doctorate of clowns. More complicated still, if one is not yet able to play, often Doctrate Doctors of superior experience will with merely one or two inane magic tricks win a player's trust. The players who are not tricked by the magic are then forced to put on a silly hat.
This hat, Doctrateors call the "Magic Hat." And trust me, it most certainly is magic. If you doubt that the Magic Hat is Magic any educated dunce will eviscerate you with pleasure for your mistaken belief. For this reason, I urge all of you, each and every reader, to refer to the magic hat as "The Magic Hat," simply so as to maintain a healthfully verbose ambiance. Trust me on this one. Call it "The Magic Hat."
One can know whether or not any hat is magical with an act of precision. To execute this act, one must wave their violin and play with the utmost passion and conviction and poetry one single pure and shining, straight and narrow, intimately revealing, perfect sparkling deadly silver bullet. Or in clown terminology a "punched line."