I see in Lunaya Pravda that Luna City Council has passed on first reading a bill to examine, license, inspect -and tax- public food vendors operating inside municipal pressure.  

I see also is to be mass meeting tonight to organise "Sons of Revolution" talk-talk.

When the hounds bay, the fox and the hare are brothers.
Today, Jeff Caird, the fox, would hear the hounds.
At the moment, he could not hear anything because he was standing in a soundproof cylinder.  If he had been outside it, he still would have heard nothing.  Except for himself and a few organics, firefighters, and technicians, he was the only living person in the city.

When the office door opened suddenly I knew the game was up.  It had been a money maker - but it was all over.
As the cop walked in I sat back in the chair and put on a happy grin.  He had the same somber expression and heavy foot they all have - and the same lack of humour.  I almost knew to the word what he was going to say before he uttered a syllable.
"James Bolivar DiGriz I arrest you on the charge -"
I was waiting for the word charge, I thought it made a nice touch that way.  As he said it I pressed the button that set off the charge of black powder in the ceiling, the crossbeam buckled and the three-tonne safe dropped right on the cop's head.  He squashed very nicely, thank you.

Muad'dib's Imperial reign generated more historians than any other era in human history.  Most of them argued a particular viewpoint, jealous and sectarian, but it says something about the peculiar impact of this man that he aroused such passions on so many diverse worlds. 

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.