The Truth Will Always Have A Market.

In All My Years Of New York Cab Riding I Have Yet To Find The Colorful, Philosophical Cabdriver That Keeps Popping Up On The Late Movies.

Randy Lay There Like A Slug. It Was His Only Defense.

I Had Woven A Tapestry Of Obscenity That As Far As I Know Is Still Hanging In Space Over Lake Michigan.

Manhattan Cabs Are Born Old.

The Reality Of What We Really Are Is Often Times Found In The Small Snips, Way Down At The Bottom Of Things.