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"So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas.  A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock.  So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me?  The Dalai Lama, himself.  Twelth son of the Lama.  The flowing robes, the grace, bald...striking.  So, I'm on the first tee with him.  I give him the driver.  He hauls off and whacks one --- big hitter, the Lama --- long, into a ten thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier.  Do you know what the Lama says?  Gunga-galunga...gunga, gunga-galunga.  So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me.  And I say, 'Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.'  And he says, 'Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consiousness.'  So I got that goin' for me, which is nice."
"What if I told you insane was working fifty hours a week in some office for fifty years at the end of which they tell you to piss off, ending up in some retirement village hoping to die before suffering the indignity of trying to make it to the toilet on time?  Wouldn't you consider that to be insane?"
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