One Can't Be Free Without Action.

I'm Thinking Of Being A Professional Mourner. How Hard Can It Be? Tear At Your Hair, Sing A Dirge Or Two, Take The Rest Of The Week Off.

She Pulled Down The Blanket And Aimed Baby Sophie's Bottom At Him Like She Might Unleash A Fusillade Of Weapons-grade Poopage Such As The Guileless Beta Male Had Never Seen.

She Hugged Me And I Could Feel The Heat Rise In My Face, Either From Shame Or Love, Like There Was A Difference.

If You Have Come To These Pages For Laughter, May You Find It. If You Are Here To Be Offended, May Your Ire Rise And Your Blood Boil. If You Seek An Adventure, May This Song Sing You Away To Blissful Escape. If You Need To Test Or Confirm Your Beliefs, May You Reach Comfortable Conclusions. All Books Reveal Perfection, By What They Are Or What They Are Not. May You Find That Which You Seek, In These Pages Or Outside Them. May You Find Perfection, And Know It By Name.

. . . You Seem Upset, Charlie. Is Something Wrong? Charlie: No, No, I’m Okay, I Just Had To Take Directions From A Mute Beaver In A Fez To Get Here, It’s Unsettling.