Which is funnier: Vancouver in the snow or rubber toothpicks?

Clue:  This is according to Ralph Milton, author of inspirational books

Answer:  Vancouver in the snow.  (The answer is in black text on the black background.  Highlight it to view.)

Citation:  Ralph Milton, Angels in Red Suspenders (1998), p. 81.

Then Grandfather would begin to speak of the dreams that would visit him so often as time wore on. ... He'd been dreaming in blue, he'd say: the rain in his dream was the deepest blue, midnight blue, and it was this never- ending blue rain that made his hair and his beard grow even longer.
—Orhan Pamuk, The Black Book, translated by Maureen Freely, 2006

---

Marjo Moore writes:

Did you know you can generate and download your own symbolic calendar each month (for free)?  Visit our MysteryArts.com/magic site, scroll to the bottom of the page, and give it a try.

Certainty #30:

"Number is the only certainty."
—Florence Nightingale On Mysticism, 2003

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

Continuous logicians do it to variable degrees of validity.
(Inspired by Saint Marko of the Street Corner.)

From the inimitable Tom Weller, author of the classic Science Made Stupid, comes this "minim" (the perfect answer to the maxim):

"You have with you the book you were reading ... which you are eager to continue, so that you can then hand it on to her, to communicate again with her through the channel dug by others' words, which, as they are uttered by an alien voice, by the voice of that silent nobody made of ink and typographical spacing, can become yours and hers, a language, a code between the two of you, a means to exchange signals and recognize each other." —Italo Calvino, If On a Winter's Night a Traveler  (We've mentioned that this book is a masterpiece, right?)

What he saw, not only of reality but even in his imagination, was often blurred by fever, but within that vague dimness his cancer appeared to him as a flourishing bed of yellow hyacinths or possibly chrysanthemums bathed in a faint, purple light.
—Kenzaburo Oé, The Day He Himself Shall Wipe My Tears Away, translated by John Nathan, 1977.

Never play Poker with a pyromaniac.  He'll see your bet and raze it.

"Signs are small measurable things, but interpretations are illimitable." —George Eliot

The sunsets in that African hell proved to be fabulous. They never missed. As tragic every time as a monumental murder of the sun! . . . For a whole hour the sky paraded in great delirious spurts of scarlet from end to end; after that the green of the trees exploded and rose up in quivering trails to meet the first stars. Then the whole horizon turned gray again and then red, but this time a tired red that didn’t last long. That was the end. All the colors fell back down on the forest in tatters, like streamers after the hundredth performance. It happened every day at exactly six o’clock.
—Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Journey To The End Of The Night, 1934, translated by Ralph Manheim, 1983.

"How to establish the exact moment in which a story begins?  Everything has already begun before, the first line of the first page of every novel refers to something that has already happened outside the book.  Or else the real story is the one that begins ten or a hundred pages further on, and everything that precedes it is only a prologue." —Italo Calvino, If On a Winter's Night a Traveler  (We need not mention how wonderful this book is.)

Saint Ravioli
Patron of Pasta Making.