Arcana, Freudiana, and Zxy

{Warning triangle showing a road that vanishes into the distance} Beware infinite regress (i.e. bucketfulls spelling of boredom).

"ARCANA"

Zxy burst into the plot. Suddenly it had come back — the plot, rather than Zxy — yes, it was back, and this time, it was contextual (or may be Freudian — who knows, both). Or did he burst in? Perhaps he merely entered — the possibility is there? Who is Zxy anyway? How can he be defined? Isn't there a danger of infinite regress?

Zxy soon tired of all this, and left the room. He had done his bit for advancing the plot, but the multiplex strata of dogmatic discourse had ineluctably foiled him in his endeavour, notwithstanding the not inconsiderable effort which he had employed in his deeds.

{DANGER sign showing an endless spiral} <-- Beware, vicious regress.

Vertiginous — what? — Vertiginous what!

{picture of a duck} Ed the Duck --> {an endless hypnotic spiral} Infinite regress --> {duck with no feathers} Ed the Duck (where's his clothes gone?) HOW FREUDIAN

What, vertiginous?

"FREUDIANA"

Derrideana

"DERRIDEANA"

"I do what I do not say, almost, I never say what I do."

    { sort that one out ... } — Ed. the Duck

^{ _} - 2/3 {α}² // ~>= {universal quantifier} ± Σζ dδ/y^-3 ∫Q with regards, Tom.

The answer is 42 (Tim (pan[um])).

[ðι 'α:nsə^r ιz 'fo:tι tu:] (Too(thp[aste])). Enough NOW.

When? Good question. And is it one?

The sign is the deferral of God. Bang.

God does not ex{lightning bolt strikes page}BANG (oops, spoke too soon).

There once was an old bloke called God
Who in no way resembled Ken Dodd,
Though he wielded the power
And was worshipped each hour,
He was really a nasty old sod.

Beezo whether

To be so or not to be so
That is the beezo.

The beezo's a bit like a squid
A sofa or pedal-bin lid
It has several knees
And far too much cheese
And seven of them are called Sid.

Whether the weather is weather or not, and whether the weather is either. If not then the weather is probably whether and if so then the both are neither. And whether the whether is whether or not, and both in the latter case, conversely wether is always a sheep. Or not.

If the word whirls the world too much we get Gidding...

Staggeringly mad and obtuse

There once was a brainless old moose
Who was staggeringly mad and obtuse
He stepped in a flan
And his antlers went bang,
And he ended up Danny La Rousse.

There once was a poem surreal
Made of panthers and pineapple peel

(to be continued...)

(and somewhat later, he wrote...)

It was rather too pink,
It was purple, I think,
Never buckets for curly the kneel.

("Eh?")

... Up, as they say, acknowledging their sadly Northerly position, if indeed they might be said to be so.