This is my holiday amalgam. The date in this case is Symbolic. I'm not sure when this stuff found its way into my life. All I Know is now I'm surrounded. On the fridge; in my pocket; in my wallet. I melted the letters in a scratched Teflon frying pan one morning before work. I opened the window & held my breath. The melt...
	Whatever you do, please don't jump to the conclusion that this page has anything to do with drugs. It doesn't. It's about plastic, ATMs, pornography, and death. Nothing else. (Though not necessarily in that order.) I used the evidence of my withdrawal to wrap a gift which I didn't have the courage to give. I'm creepy like that.
Death, smiles, and bungholes all on the same page! Above, a longer, pictographic way 2 say DIE HAPPY. That was my epiphany one Burning Man morning strolling in the desert sun with miracles of modern science ingested at dawn coursing through my brain. (Totally legal! Once... Then I pissed in a jar.)	This represents an occupational hazard. Workin' with dudes, this is what you find in the bathroom--last page torn from a videoporn company's promotional calendar. Horrible... But not altogether different from the work of John Waters, The Baltimoran filmmaker quoted in Re/Search #11: "My ultimate goal is to work my most pernicious ideas into the most mainstream product." Ahem to that....