Anyone Who Can Not Write Should.

The Real Story Of Our Times Is Seldom Told In The Horse-puckey-filled Memoirs Of Dopey, Self-serving Presidents Or Generals, But In The Outrageous, Demented Lives Of Guys Like Lenny Bruce, Giordano Bruno, Scott Fitzgerald - And Paul Krassner. The Burrs Under Society's Saddle. The Pains In The Ass.

They Change Scapegoats At The Networks More Regularly Than Some People Change Socks.

We Walked For Some Time, And Grew To Know Each Other, As Best As We'd Allow. These Are Some Of The High Points. They Lack Continuity. I Don't Apologize. I Merely Pointed It Out, Adding With Some Truth, I Feel, That Most Liaisons Lack Continuity. We Find Ourselves In Odd Places At Various Times, And For A Brief Span We Link Our Lives To Others And Then, Our Time Elapsed, We Move Apart. Through A Haze Of Pain Occasionally, Usually Through A Veil Of Memory That Clings, Then Passes, Sometimes As Though We Have Never Touched.

The Ability To Dream Is All I Have To Give. That Is My Responsibility; That Is My Burden. And Even I Grow Tired.

In My Ugly, Elitist Opinion We Are Not All Entitled To Voice Our Opinions, We Are Entitled To Pass Along Our Informed Opinions.