In love, in love with what? Grandeur? Holiness? Piousness? Greed? Sacrifice? Dismal abondon in a dank dungeon of your own malfeasance? Or the liberty and self satisfaction of existing to make something of yourself, just for you! As a present to yourself.



Who are we? Are we just thoughts in chemicals, screaming around in our bodies, uncousciously? Or also, hormonally? Are our bodies self medicating us to excell at something? Something we only need to believe in and have (I hate this word) faith?
Surely, our genetic makeup can allow us pure love, true love as in sacrifice and pleasure, together?
In a past life I said, "It is a pleasure for me to throw my raincoat down over this mud puddle for you, Ms. Jenkins, that you may cross this intersection and enter our carriage unmolested, this rainy evening." Where did all the chivalry go? Back east I guess. Do women miss having guys destroy valuable personal articles of clothing for them so they can save their heel crossing a mud puddle anymore? No! WTF, society is out of control!



I bring a back up-jacket now . . . Actually two, one for before the movie and one for after, so we can get back into the car, unmolested. Did I mention we live in Minnesota? That's in the continental United States. If you were wondering.
Okay there are, I believe, five new songs up for your listening pleasure.

The flash game for this week is -----> Dark Tower

Your jesus freak of the week.

Your quantum computing through teleportation deams have been realized. Whew!

Your military man who served for nine years on active duty and three years as a reservist and now wants out.

Your bi-weekly former NATO commander Wesley Clark slams Bush's troop recall plan. Don't you love getting your news from Aljazeera?

Your I don't like DNA profiling, but it's inevitable link

Your I love Bush site

Your Kurt Vonnegut for the week

Your Britain to allow cloning of human embryos story for the week

The wait is over. Your link to bible.com

Your amateur ghost-busting kit

And, lest we forget, your helpless mouse photo of the week ----->



I don't have to apologize for shit, but seeing as I love you all . . . and all . . . I hereby do apologize for the perverted prose published in this blog throughout the past week. It's been rainy here, and as a guy, my weenie and I are kinda close. That I may speak of it (him) in some sort of playful or perhaps erotic way and that offends you, well . . . well may I be so bold as to say that that offends me.
You can't like me and not like the, most of the time, flaccid, lint collecting, appendage located on my most southern midsection. I can't get away from him so I feel that you should accept him, like you accept me, me and my little buddy, carne asada.