Yes, yes, no sooner do I escape one convention than I get pulled into another. "Pulled", of course, implies any of this is against my will. When, in fact, none of it is. Conventions are mother's milk to me! Not that I was a breast-fed baby. I wasn't even milk-fed. My mother used to hand me small pieces of steak, which I then proceeded to suck until they were limp gray things (no teeth, remember...at least, not then). Yes, beef was used to suckle me. Wait 'til you hear about the potty tra
Published on March 12, 2009 19:56