Love's Liabilities

You WILL end up here... sooner or later. It is the uneasy truth. I have wrestled with this from the beginning of the blog-era and the recent "doocing" of MrFab has pinned the tail on my donkey of indecision, and I have decided that my days of self-censorship have come to a screeching, yowling, nails-on-the-blackboard, forehead-into-the-dashboard halt y alto!!!! Despite my squirmy, colonic reticence at being dissected for the honest and brutal thoughts I am definitely going to write from now on, my overwhelming need to be heard is driving me more insanely batty with each passing f-bomb I drop inside my wee, little, scrawny, child-sized pate. (Just now I can hear "Texas Tom's" rather prodigious jaw hitting the floor as he wonders just what parts I have been censoring o'er the last decade.... things that make you go "Hmmmmmm????")

However, as thinly veiled as they may be, all will be monikered as I see fit. Not necessarily to protect the innocent, but to prevent the massacre of the stupid, insipid and deserving. Also be aware that much of what appears here may one day make it into some local venue as material in an act, fodder for the local riff-raff. Exposed wounds in which to jab digits, to rub minerals, and with which to silently commiserate.

Make no mistake, in the paragraphs and prose to follow, blood will be let. Oh yes, you will suffer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




(I am such a weinie)