In My Ugly, Elitist Opinion

Perfection. Excellence. What A Passionate Lover. But Once Having Tasted The Lips Of Excellence, Once Having Given Oneself To Its Perfection, How Dreary And Burdensome And Filled With Anomie Are The Remainder Of One's Waking Hours Trapped In The Shackled Lock-step Of The Merely Ordinary, The Barely Acceptable, The Just Okay And Not A Stroke Better.

Everyone Is Entitled To An *informed* Opinion.

Repent, Harlequin," Said The Ticktock Man. "get Stuffed," The Harlequin Replied.

Posing The Question: Does The God Of Love Use Underarm Deodorant, Vaginal Spray And Fluoride Toothpaste?

The More You Know, The More Unflinchingly You Deny Casual Beliefs And Accepted Wisdom When It Flies In The Face Of Reality, The More Carefully You Observe The World And Its People Around You, The Better Chance You Have Of Writing Something Meaningful And Well-crafted.