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2) I never got a tattoo because:
a) when I was in my 20s tattooing wasn’t a field which attracted skilled artists. If I wanted a “lil’ devil,” Betty Boop or a heart with an arrow through it I was all set — repro of Hokusai’s “The Great Wave,” eh, not so many tattoo practitioners had the chops back then.
b) Thought seriously about getting Mondrian’s Broadway Boogie Woogie on my ass (hey, it’d be hilarious!) but, even at 20, I got that bodies age and what looks good at 20 is not gonna be all that and a bag of chips at 60. See, I was wicked smaht back then.
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So, to distill all this — I was succinctly and poetically “yes deared.” The man’s a god!
3) That kiln’s just NOT going to fire itself. Dammit.
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5) A brand, spanking, new, shiny oversized, humongous pick up truck (especially one that's all jacked up like this one) is the best and surest way to communicate that you have extraordinarily low self confidence, a huge ego and your paycheck’s size is inversely proportional to your brain's functional ability. That and it’s better than a billboard for informing the market at large “I AM YOUR MARK. Play me!” (mebbe not to be confused with Neil Diamond’s Play Me.Sorry, sorry, sorry. Look, if it’s stuck in MY head I gotta share!)
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