Damn, Planet Earth! A tiny ghost drilled into my head and left a deposit in the form of two ideas that linked together for one moment to create a third idea. Whoo-eee!

Damn, Weezy! I was enterprising, wasn’t I? I got a job in an ironing shop, didn’t I? I climbed from ladder one, rung one, up to ladder six, rung six, didn’t I? I put my arms around you rain or shine, drop-in-bucket or thorns-on-crown, didn’t I? You thought I wasn’t a reader but I was reading all the time, now!

Damn, Mr. Bentley! I remembered that this girl I used to go with had a bad habit of sticking a needle filled with heroin into a vein in her arm. She died, and her parents didn’t even come East for the funeral. Can you get to that?

Damn, Lionel! If you were a girl, we would have named you “Belinda.” If you were a man, you’d dump that girl you’re going with, because she ain’t nothing but trouble times two. Do you see the way she looks at me? If the meat of the father is eaten, the meat of the son is bereaved!

Damn, Planet Earth! My numbers are 3-9-14-19-25-38. If they hit, I’m all set to quit!