The End.

On the advice of my lawyer (and my wife!), I am shutting this thing down. (Apparently, a jury may not actually like stories about pube shaving or girls who don’t know how to properly poop.)

In honor of this occasion, I have written a little song:

This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend, the end.

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land

This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend, the end

But you'll never follow me
The end of laughter and soft lies
The end of nights we tried to die
This is the end

Of, if you don’t fancy that one, I have composed a second, more simple song:

Oh yeah, all right
Are you going to be in my dreams
Tonight?

And in the end
The love you take
Is equal to the love
You make

There’ll be a drum solo and guitar solo in between the verses, in the final version, I mean.

So there you have it. You’ve been very good to me. Thanks for reading. You Rock (with a capital ‘R’ - because that is how you roll. (Get it? "roll" - like rock n. roll. Get it? Get it?)).

To Keep You Happy

Things are going down here at work, and I am not at liberty to discuss. I need to lay low this week. I will try and post from home. To keep you happy, I have penned a very short, recent story. Also, I plan to revisit the shaved pubes subject again in the next couple of posts since there was some recent commenting activity that I never had the chance to address. So, if you want to comment again (or for the first time) seize the day!

Enjoy the story:

Last week I was enjoying a nice, quiet dinner with a rather hot female companion. World renowned French philosopher, Rene Descartes walks into the restaurant and sits down at a table next to mine. The waiter comes over and asks if he'd like an appetizer.

"No thank you," says Descartes, "I'd just like to order dinner."

"Would you like to hear our daily specials?" asks the waiter.

"No," says Descartes, getting impatient.

"Would you like a drink before dinner?" the waiter asks.

Descartes is insulted. (It is against his religion)

"I think not!" he says indignantly, and POOF! he disappeared.

(Je pense, donc je suis, after all).


Please remember that I love you with all of my cold little heart.