There is a mysterious joy in being intentionally illogical. You employ proper words of course and structure your sentences in such a manner that it does not lose its grammatical semblance, but twist the logic so horrifically that the meaning, if there had existed one at all, is mutated to beyond recognition by any mind, brilliant or blunt. It is important that each sentence bears a logic of its own, that it can be followed without too much effort to the end. This is so that the palpable lack of cohesion between sentences and ideas will become apparent, and thus can proceed those contradictions, fallacies and absurdities in their duty to confuse. And about the joy: it is mysterious. I cannot seem place it at any origin, but can only feel its titillating jabs at the heart of laughter. Speaking of laughter – I don’t know where that comes from either. Might it be as divine an emotion as love, except less noble?