"Getting lost in your lover is your first mistake." -- Gordon Lightfoot
As a matter of prurient boredom with jackasses, (is that actually the case if the ignition isn't shutting off for a bleeding heart-- no I have no imagination towards Nick, he just fits the convenience of the definition) I have always, I mean always, disliked the word masterbation and horny. They are just ugly and stupid terms and wouldn't get me past Flynt's wing tips, finally having pissed, climaxed, wept for dead mothers, and it's not enough, dropping down into the echo chamber chasm. I was, then wasn't, going to poke at Woods in his incremental elevation as the replacement for Charlton Heston, and ask if he had read Jennifer Rubin's headline on poor Sarah Huckabee Sanders not knowing anything, as we debate the callous indelicacy of a hospice ready maverick who couldn't break out of a Viet Cong prison. What did I post at the beginning of my own interment last fall? But because I post as I do, and AccessLife, which was professionally run, went belly up, no one cares. Meghan, get your naval superdaddy off the soapbox already, please. People need to learn when to relinquish. Forget Trumpian new lows. Is it beneficial for the public to watch notable personalities dying on camera? Roger Ebert. Christopher Hitchens in a blurb spot on Rose made us appreciate "there but the grace of god" as his larynx turned him into a conehead, and now McCain suddenly has sensitivities despite his crapshoot debate with Obama in 2008. Oh, the health of the mother. His mannerisms and impatience handed the presidency over to our boy wonder Barack, always in search of, as I hate to get ugly, but grow weary of nigger love in its caramelized version. He keeps running a treadmill called make the spastic love herself. I thought that's what popping the cherry was for. All press secretaries spin the bottle.
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