I hate the term “curating”—everyone these days thinks they’re running a damned museum.
I do like crows as well as mint leaves in tea.
Can’t stand most academics who pose as bio-ethicists. Put it this way, they have their thumbs on the meat scales.
The inter-galactic laxative “will” get you from here to Mars.
I once ate strawberries with a 100 year old monk under the midnight sun.
I do like the cerulean atomizations of LSD. I don’t recommend this to everyone.
I can only punish myself if I’m being ethical.
Back to academic bio-ethicists: they never ask who’s paying for their lunches.
I once put roses on Karl Marx’s tomb and then placed daisies at the tomb of George Eliot. They’d run out of roses. I didn’t see how this was possible as there was almost no one in Highgate Cemetery.
I don’t like sun dried tomatoes. Someone has curated them.
I can’t stand Led Zeppelin.
Planet of the Blind 