Click stamps to enlarge.
This set seems to be for sale at Christie's. Bring money.
Who our close neighbors/Nachbarn are probably does taint/flavor/contaminate one's Weltanschauung ... but I am beginning to think too many strolls with Herr Doktor Jung -- I guess you called him Carl when you picked mushrooms in Elfenau -- have perhaps affected the way you grapple with and lunge at tough PizzaQs.
BUT ... you have indeed sniffed a distant connection that is indeed a valid aspect of The True Answer.
(But still no pizza, not even a complimentary piece of garlic bread while you continue to tear your hair out and look for Klaas' fone number.)
... something like the bomb-and-drug-sniffing dog in the airport waiting lounge who got very excited at my wife's purse ... the paramilitary handler blushed and apologized, the doggie had made straight for a hidden wrapped tasty homemade sandwich. He does that frequently, explained the annoyed handler.
(btw, all the world's best sniff dogs speak only deutsches. This is true. Do not try to communicate with or distract your sniffer guard dog in French or English or Ladino or Papiamento.)
Twin small cities -- too lazy to look at map, but probably like Pest and Buda, separated by a river -- in the southern part of Illinois are Champaign and Urbana. Or Urbana-Champaign (often connected with the dash and considered as one city).
Champaign is the COUNTY.
Urbana, a pretty big CITY, is the County Seat.
(So if you're looking for hot Saturday Night Action, park the rental car in downtown Urbana. Send me a postcard.)
To the ignorant and blind, Champaign-Urbana IL are/is the World's Capital of Boring Nothing. (They do have a big summer Corn [maize] Festival, a pal brought me back the t-shirt.)
I cannot imagine the screaming horror of being a teenager in Champaign or Urbana.
But as you and Herr Doktor Jung have pointed out, there is more to Urbana than meets the eye.
Urbana-Champaign may actually be the world's capital of Not Nothing.
The Vleeptron Ministry of Pizza (MoP) can say no more at this time.
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oh, my neighbors and their effects on my Weltanschauung -- 30 years of living 5 miles from Emily Dickinson ... well, this has a very heavy and entirely negative effect on the nicer parts of the human geest, and it doesn't help my lichaam either.
J’en ai assez d’être seul chez-moi
Ç a crève le coeur et puis le foie
J’éloigne les chiens
J’effraie les chats
J’fais peur aux petits enfants
Every year on Emily's birthday, you have to cross the street carefully so you will not be run over by big tour busses packed with Japanese (not Japanese-American, not Issei, Nisei or Sansei) Emily Pilgrims.
The same unexpected busses of pilgrims clog the parking lot of Green Gables (where Anne lived) on the north coast of Prince Edward Island.
Is it a crime to want to brutally murder a neighbor who died in 1886? Some religions very clearly say that the Sin is not in the Act, but in the Desire. You just think about it one time, and Straight to Hell Forever for you, boyo.