Semi-facetiously, When People Ask Me Why I

All You Need To Do Is Hold On Tight...and Believe.

I've Taken Off Two Months, Three Months At A Time, And, By The End, I Get Really Squirrelly. My Night Life, My Dream Life, Gets Extremely Populated And Crazed.

The Wife Whose Sweetly Given Reply In The Face Of Any Problem Would Be, "whatever You Think Is Best, Dear." Women, Take Note: A Wife Like That Never Needs To Fear Bubbling Away The Last Of Her Life Through A Cut Throat.

This Is A Dreadful Thing To Say, But I Have Wondered In My Darker Hours That, If Everything Were Legal, Wouldn't It Be Kind Of A Darwinian Solution To A Lot Of Problems? Who Are The Bikies That You See Who Are Cruisin' Around With No Helmet Or With A Hat Turned Around Like That Yoyo In Cheap Trick? They're Dummies, And If They Splatter Their Brains All Over The Sidewalk, They're Not Going To Be Collecting Food Stamps.

But Writers Invite Ghosts, Maybe; Along With Actors And Artists, They Are The Only Totally Accepted Mediums Of Our Society. They Make Worlds That Never Were, Populate Them With People Who Never Existed, And Then Invite Us To Join Them In Their Fantasies. And We Do It, Don't We? Yes. We Pay To Do It.