Our Monday morning benediction comes from Voltaire's Philosophical Dictionary, under the heading of "Mountain":
It is a very old, very universal fable that tells of the mountain which, having frightened all the countryside by its outcry that it was in labour, was hissed by all present when it brought into the world a mere mouse. The people in the pit were not philosophers. Those who hissed should have admired. It was as fine for the mountain to give birth to a mouse, as for the mouse to give birth to a mountain. A rock which produces a rat is a very prodigious thing; and never has the world seen anything approaching this miracle. All the globes of the universe could not call a fly into existence. Where the vulgar laugh, the philosopher admires; and he laughs where the vulgar open their big, stupid eyes in astonishment.
Food for thought? A toot and a snore to get your ass out the door? Or a pretentious justification for that Bart the General link from Saturday afternoon? You decide...just close your mouth when you do. Your tongue is hanging out all pink and naked.