With a wink to his wife across the table the husband said, 'Well son, one wonderful day I met your Mom, we fell in love and then we knew each other. 9 months later, there you were! Why are you asking?"
“Just always wondered. Did y’all know each other well at that time?”
The husband, with a twinkle in his eye, smiled wistfully at his beautiful wife and replied, “Yes, son. We knew each other very, very well.”
Okay, y’all can take the story from there using the word “know” in all its forms substituted for “fuck”.
I don’t knowing know how this will turn out, but I’m sure if anyone can do it, my knowing Doper friends can. Even those whom I’ve never known or will ever know.
I’m sure y’all know too, don’t you?
Your friend, the all-knowing Quasi
(who is already laughing his knowing ass off in anticipation!)
All I know Quasi, is that there are known knowns. There are people we know that we know, or once knew; and there are known unknowns. That is to say, there are people that we knowingly knew but didn’t know. But there are also unknown unknowns. These are people we don’t know we don’t know.
Know what I mean?
… let me pick it up again with Dad answering his son’s last question. I’d kinda hoped we could make a whole “story” out of this using the biblical euphemism for the “horizontal bop” - the word “know”. As in “Adam knew Eve and begat Cain and Abel.” Okay, here goes…
Dad, now a little uncomfortable, replied, "Well son, we don’t know as many today as we did back then, see? Your Mom knew some, I knew some, and, because those were simpler times, everybody just knew everybody else.
We even had a saying for that period of time: ‘Know yourself before knowing others’. There was also a song about it. A group named BAAB travelled the countryside singing ‘Knowing You, Knowing Me’."
“Sounds fun and interesting, Dad”, said the son.
“Knowing, son, knowing. It’s what makes the world go round. Now, grab your papyrus and get ready for school.”
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite
jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath bore me on his back a
thousand times, and now how abhorr’d in my imagination it is!
My gorge rises at it.