January 12, 1932
Our first port of call was Buster Keaton’s inner ear. I think we have discovered why he is always falling down. He has a lovely — if transgendered — higher primate living in his cochlea. Perhaps if she . . . he. . . it. Lovely it! Did not spit so much like a camel while Buster danced the tango.
Pity Buster and his aural inhibitor — his perilymphatic fluid sullied by transpittle, not transducing at all like mine, or your’s, or even like all the monkeys’.
Also, it seems that I am travelling backwards in time.
Next Time: Come Fly With Me
About the Photographer: Toulouse Le Grandfig was a surrealist painter, photographer, and writer who never gave up dadaism. He was a prodigious eater of soup.
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