T R U T H

The art of writing love-read stuff: This is the era of hate-read, the term for knowing before you begin to read an article or a story that you'll hate it and think about your rebuttal even if you never write it. Everyone does it a little bit and even self-professed anti-evils find themselves every once in a while asking "why am I reading this crap?" So I'd like to write only stuff that flows from love without resorting to barf-inducing sweetness for sweetness' sake.

I heard a sound coming from the gate and when I walked around the corner of the house, there was a box sitting inside the locked gate. I hadn't heard the sound of UPS or FedEx trucks so I walked past the box, opened the gate and looked around to see who may have just dropped it there. No one was around so I walked back and looked for some identifier on the box. There was a label that someone had scrawled on it "To Stud Muffin" Oh, yeah - this is a surprise from my girl and when I tried to pick up the box, it didn't budge. It weighed alot, like a hundred pounds or more. So I went inside and grabbed a boxcutter and came back out and slitted the tape around the flaps and opened the box. What a surprise - it contained most of the front end of a '51 Mercury and hologram of Freddie Blumenstock. Is this a dream? Is it just make-believe? My guess is you were thinking it would be something about tits but that would be predictable and repetitious. You see Freddie was the 1st love of someone I love and he had a '51 Merc. That's this story and I'm sticking to it

lo9s today - aftermath of an exceptional yesterday and lustful contemplation this morning. Santa Clara is worthy of remembering.