A rose—who cares what kind of rose; a rose is a rose is a rose and that's pretty uplifting, just like toothpaste squirted on a sultry mirror and smeared there like Crisco on a car window like this guy I heard on Car Talk just the other day who said he pranked somebody's car by stuffing a ton of teabags in the window—yeah, a rose by any other name—yes, name, that's what I'm getting to because you're all so fixated on names when a rose by any other name would smell—no, I do not smell, that's proba
Published on July 05, 2009 07:20