Mr. Wank? Please, just call me Dirt.

My Dearest Friends,

Unabashed and unprovoked I am delivering this underwhelming message to all of you, my understudies. I understand the underlying purpose of underwear but I believe we have understated and quite possibly underestimated the underbelly of the underworld.

From thence I can only provide you with a once in a lifetime opportunity to read these words, in this order, for the very first time. Remember that the best thing we can be is the best, but that while second place is the first loser, first place is certainly NOT the second winner.

I have never commercialized my writings, but in this case I must say "Eat at Super Torta in Oregon City. They will leave you full of the finest authentic Mexican ingredients that the health inspector will allow. I love it!"

There are certain things people say that make all the sense in the world. There are certain things people do that earn all the cents in the world. There are certain things I do that emit all the scents in the world.

The fineness of the wine should be measured by the company with which it is consumed. That is why I often drink Two Buck Chuck at Nike. Please note that notes are for sissies but the flip side of that coin is tails...which reminds me that I have never actually seen a tail on a coin except, perhaps, on that rare occassion a few hours after my dog ate a quarter.

I hope you are not dissatisfied with the length of this encounter, but rest assured this is not the first time I have had to apologize under similar circumstances. I assure you most assuredly that this is all that has passed through my brain since my previous post...in March.

Dirt