Boo hoo hoo, I am crying into my toast over the New York Times choice to NOT choose comics for the food section going forward. That means: in the future, no more, anymore, from now on, henceforth. Now then (a surprisingly prosaic oxymoron), sadness is upon us both in the present, and upcoming. Soon the present will the the “then”, the past, making “now then” the master of all time. Now, then, and to come. Cold toast for you!
No matter the calendar, the earth’s revolutions, the ticktickticking of our social constructs, Paul Karasik‘s work will be relevant. And flat out funny, flatter than a flat earth. Flatter than toast in Topeka.
The Lunch Encounter 