You Are the Wind Beneath My Shorts

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I don’t know why I made that "movie". I just woke up Sunday and decided I hadda skrag what was left of my weekend on my first uTube effort.

Like everything else here, it was hastily slapped together and recklessly posted without fear. That's how I roll, baby: I pride myself in high-volume, low quality, and -as always- passing the savings on to the reader.

And speaking of ‘passing’, I equate the virgin video-making experience to passing gas: no matter how many orifices you clench, it’s coming out someplace ... it's just a matter of where and when. And the longer you make it wait, the more virulent and horrible it will be.

See, most blogs will treat you like it’s the first date: they wait until you leave. But even as they are smiling and waving “bye bye” to you though the window, the room is filling with the most horrendous and eye-watering green fog you can possibly imagine.

Don't believe me? If you stand there and wave back long enough, their lungs will just cave in involuntarily and the stimuli will slam into the frontal lobe with the equivalent force of six Rosie O'Donnells on the Ponderosa salad bar; ultimately, the limbic system then collapses entirely and they pass out.

This blog, conversely, treats you with the dignity and respect of someone we've been dating so long even the dog doesn’t bark at you anymore. You've got keys. And while I won’t do it right in front of you, I get it out of the way as you’re pulling into the driveway.

And then I'll blame that worthless dog.