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You need no ticket to make a place for yourself here where humor, black and otherwise, comes to you from the stage where the human comedy itself is being played, its performance trumping the things dark and tragic and found in the world of literature.
Friday, March 28, 2008

From Fanzine NOVAE TERRAE, April 1938
By Arthur C. (Ego) Clarke
I shot a rocket into the air,
It fell to earth I know not where,
But 50 grammes of T.N.T.,
Exploded in the Rectory.
I shot a rocket into space,
Towards the full moon's beckoning face,
And was rewarded for my pains,
By blowing up the Sea of Rains.
I shot a rocket into the air,
But notwithstanding all my care,
Five hundred tons of dynamite,
Blew San Francisco out of sight.

RIP -- Sir Arthur C. Clarke
(16 December 191719 March 2008)
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