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Ten Sign it Wet, Vierzehn

A man walks into a bar full of Wittgensteins.  They are all sitting at tables deep in thought. Occasionally one of them slaps his forehead and scribbles something on a napkin.  The man orders a beer. The Wittgensteins all look up briefly, nod, and go back to their brow furrowing.
The man finishes his beer and says: "Got to go now. Everyone have a nice day!"

And then all hell breaks loose.
Cydonia photo: ESA

This is the journal of David Ross
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