Great idea, Ann. I accept your dare. Though I'll still lose to several others on this page. I'm not complaining, though. I've given up winning for fear it might corrupt the mind-body balance I've achieved through years of self-denial. As an ascetic, losing is my one indulgence.
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THE ASCETIC
There are no shoes upon my feet, no cushions on my stool.
For days on end I do not eat, and when I do, it's gruel.
I don't indulge in vice or sin, and yet I still atone.
The loin cloth itches that I'm in. My pillow is a stone.
I do not laugh, I do not speak, I do not leave my hut.
I urinate but once a week. My windows are all shut.
I try to live like Paul, the Saint, whose life was so austere.
I find I have but one complaint: I'm dying for a beer!
Last edited by Roger Slater; 02-11-2011 at 12:53 PM.
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