The world is my motorbike.

Who am I to say that the little things don't matter, when they stick to me like clams to a rusty, unclaimed pier?

Ban(ne)d.

Dominatrix. Let's hope the name sticks.

The man in the cereal aisle.

Look at this man. This man makes me dream of lamp-posts, autumn leaves and freshly-cut grass. He's not the swallow-your-pride-whole-handsome-Hollywood-lackey or the womanizing, libel-spewing, politically-active actor. This man is Dustin Hoffman. He makes everybody feel contrite with his inherent goodness. He is at ease with his sense of goodwill. I mean, how many of us have ever thought that a man can be so free of astuteness and chronic ill-will?
PS. Maybe it's just an image. But, what we don't know won't hurt us, no?

I think God is waving his wiener at us all.