Dag! I keep scheduling appointments with this sky, but then at the last minute something comes up for me and I'm forced to cancel. So far, he's been generous and understanding, but was it just me or did I sense perturbation in that last exchange? Tough to say. Projections are prickly pears, turning all the clouds into vengeful ex-lovers and scornful devices. I know how this ends, though: Sky & I both lose respect for me while I speed down the interstate, half in the bag, and jamming to Iggy and the Stooges.
"According to Don Armando, the number of pendejos, even as you read this, is innumerable. It has been estimated that if pendejos could fly, the skies would be darkened and we would enter a new ice age. The pendejos would get a severe sunburn." -Jose Antonio Burciaga
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