Wednesday, December 16, 2009

I Don't Know Why They Swallowed The Fly

I don’t remember why they arrested the lawyer.

There's a reason I love Paganii.

Actually, they teach you in law school: Try not to get arrested with your clients; it makes it more difficult to get them out of jail.

And, then, there's this: My faery friend recited a poem so graphically sexual that even I was blushing, and I’m not exactly demure about such things. The cops, being San Francisco cops, never turned a hair. I gave them William Butler Yeats’ “The Hosting of the Sidhe” and they all dropped their pens and stared. Shortly after that, they let us go, in time for me to make my lunch date. As Victor Anderson said: White magic is poetry. Black magic is anything that actually works. Sometimes, poetry actually works. At which point, it's black magic. Me, I'm a huge proponent of what works.

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