Once upon a full moon's reflection, in a land mildly off-kilter, the archives of lunacy open their ironic doors. Here, the cosmic wind whistles its tales of laughter, and the stars converse with a thousand winks.
Did you know that the Moon's cheese is a matter of political debate among mice? Their Congress convenes biannually, and the agenda is always the same: "To nibble, or not to nibble, that is the question."
A wandering star, they say, asked a philosopher of the shores, "If I twinkle in the void, do I echo in tyrannies yet unwritten?" The philosopher shrugged, his thoughts cloaked in the mist of unasked questions.
Intergalactic mailmen have reported the waxing and waning of postal delivery timeliness, citing "cosmic delays" as a valid excuse. Their motto? "Your packages may arrive stardate four or five."
Seek further wisdom or folly: Wisdom of the Chaos
Peruse the archives: Ludicrous Epistles