This is the light-hearted one I keep coming back to.
Oh is Saint Anthony the patron saint of lost things? I'll have to remember that. In 1988, NYC, I swear I had a black hole in my apartment that alternately sucked in and spit out my belongings. I lived alone, and yet a huge quantity of cash went MIA, I was a waiter. I. Looked. Everywhere. For days. Leveled the place. One day I walk by my drafting table, and there it is - sitting in a clearing in a pool of light. I'm like What in the actual FUCK. This sort of thing happened routinely.
I love George Carlin, he was right up my alley. In the early 80's I was given a comedy album by a nuclear physicist comic, Chris Rush. I lost it in life and another comic named Chris Rush replaced him, but if you can find his work, he is hilarious and so so smart.
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