Post by Mr. FOLLARD on Feb 1, 2024 8:33:52 GMT
Mork: Mork calling Orson. Come in, Orson.
Mork calling Orson. Come in, Orson.
Mork calling Orson. Mork calling Orson.
Everything all right, Orson?
Orson: Yes. This better be good, Mork. You got me out of the shower.
Mork: Oh, please don’t shake yourself dry this time, Your Immenseness. Last time, it rained for weeks.
Orson: Get on with it, Mork, while I look for a towel.
Mork: Oh, don’t terry, sir.
Orson: Your report, Mork.
Mork: This week I discovered a terrible Earth disease called loneliness.
Orson: Do many people on earth suffer from this illness?
Mork: Oh, yes, sir, and how they suffer. One man I know suffers so much they has to take a medication called bourbon. Even that doesn’t help very much because he can hear paint dry.
Orson: Does bedrest help?
Mork: No, because I’ve heard that sleeping alone is part of the problem. You see, Orson, loneliness is a disease of the spirit and people who have it think that no one cares about them.
Orson: Do you have any idea why?
Mork: Yes, sir. You can count on me. You see, when children are young, they’re told not to talk to strangers. Then when they go to school, they’re told not to talk to the person next to them. Finally, when they get to be very old, they’re told not to talk to themselves. Who’s left?
Orson: Are you saying that Earthlings make each other lonely?
Mork: No, sir, I’m saying just the opposite, that they make themselves lonely. They’re so busy looking out for number one, they don’t have room for two.
Orson: It’s too bad everybody down there can’t get together and find a cure.
Mork: Well here’s the paradox, sir, because if they did get together, they wouldn’t need one. Isn’t that zen-like? One hand clapping. Until next week, nanu, nanu.
