Author of quotes: Thomas Ruggles Pynchon, Jr.

In our days any conversation about Laziness incomplete without considering television, paralyzing us and generating strange creatures: their parasites-symbionts - I mean notorious breed of people, called a Sofa Root vegetable. The stories, woven in idleness, commit us to the Box. We indiscriminately ingest shamanic gum, running backwards the mechanism for converting dreams into money, which originally leads to our house this motley round dance of ghosts. We eat them in parallel, making the other six deadly sins: overeat, jealous celebrities, lusting goods are new and different, fondle lustful gaze flat images, experiencing anger when watching the news and a perverse pride at the thought of the distance between our couch and places showing on the screen.

Laziness, this absorbed with mother's milk, radiation, unobtrusive radiomusik - it is everywhere and nobody did not lead his ear.

And art, and nonfiction books are crawling with characters who don't do what you should do, because they do not wish to make an effort. Isn't that a familiar pattern? The opportunity to tread on the path of goodness every day and tuck us in public and in private life - but are we? As we pass by.

... little Japanese binoculars, which was the parting gift of his wife (she left him the next day after he received notice of dismissal)... <...> He went out into the garage, poured into the canister all the gasoline from the fuel tank of your Buick, wearing a green three-piece suit from Zachary <...> went into the kitchen, sat on the floor and generously poured himself with gasoline. He made ready one last time to either spin the wheel faithful Zippo lighters <...>, but then the lock clicked the door, and he heard voices. It was his wife with a man, which he soon identified influential joydisaster expert on the scientific organization of labor, offer to replace the poor guy's computer is an IBM 7094. Intrigued by the irony of fate, the officer was sitting in the kitchen and listened, dropping his tie in the gasoline puddle like a wick. From the snatches of conversation he caught what the expert wants to make his wife love the Moroccan carpet in the living room. The wife was not against it. The officer heard lewd laughter, the sound zip, the sound of falling shoes, heavy sniffles and moans. He pulled the tie from gasoline and giggled. Closed the lid of the Zippo lighters. "I think I hear some laughter," said his wife. "And the gasoline smell" - said the expert. Holding hands, they headed naked to the kitchen. "I was thinking assumed from himself a Buddhist monk," he explained to them the dismissed official. "And it took you almost three weeks to decide on it? I was amazed the expert. You know how long it would have taken the IBM 7094? Twelve microseconds. No wonder you got replaced by a machine." The officer threw back his head and laughed a good ten minutes, during which his wife and her lover anxiously withdrew, got dressed and rushed to call the police. <...> ... he announced with great solemnity: "My biggest mistake was love. From this day on I vow not to succumb to any kind of love: neither hetero-nor Homo-, or bisexual, or love to animals, nor of love to the car - no. I'm the founder of the society of opponents of love and dedicate life."

Once he left the party because I heard the words "whipped cream", which, in his opinion, it sounded threatening.

... way any government: formation, development and systematic abuse.

But suddenly she noticed that gradually comes to the role of a brooding and sad girl who, like Rapunzel, somehow magically became a prisoner of the pines and salt fogs of Kinneret and is now waiting for the Savior who will shout: "Hey, let down your braids." <...> Any prisoner with a lot of time to think, quickly realizes that the tower, its height and design, as well as the "I" captive, completely irrelevant and that in fact in prison it holds magic, faceless and evil that came from outside and not amenable to rational explanation. Not having any money (except for the interior of fear and female cunning) to examine this formless magic, to understand the principle of its operation, to measure its power and to count lines of force, a prisoner can fall into superstition, to find a useful hobby (embroidery, for example), go mad, or marry a disc jockey. What to do if the tower is everywhere and the knight of deliverance against her magic impotent?

- Want to leave this place with me - suggested by Rozman, when coffee was brought in.
Where? asked Oedipus. Rozman and shut up.

Oedipus sat there, feeling lonely is not only familiar, but also the only woman in a bar filled with drunken homosexuals. Here's the story of my life, she thought. Macho man's not talking to me, Hilarius't listen to me, Clark Maxwell did not look, and this company in General for God knows what. And Oedipus became desperate, as always happens when no one around does not suit you sexually.

Upon returning they found that their friends were gone.
The note read: "Gone thump".

Probably that day was the pay, because at the bar were already drunk.

You are all so right-wing that is no better than the left.