I immediately informed them that 'in between it may go straight down'. No sooner had the words left my mouth than they all prostrated themselves before me, desiring me to become their king. Refusing this post, they immediately elected me a saint and began pressing me for teachings which would elucidate the notion which they found so marvelous and accepted the true story as an elaborately cloakwed metaphor, of which judgement nothing would dissuade them. Uh-say, I'm a Bozo. I thought you had kind of a big nose.
Many people like to.
It doesn't hurt me a bit. You know, I think we're all Bozos on this bus. My mother was a Bozo-ette at school. Well, my mother didn't talk to me much. Now, please, everyone lock your wigs, let the air out of your shoes, and prepare yourselves for a period of simulated exhileration.