Lance spends too much time thinking about all the ways life would be different if our eyes were on the top of our feet as opposed to perched over our noses. Shoes for instance… Or karate. He doesn’t enjoy thinking thoughts like these, but grow them as he might, the beards never help. So off they come. Hairy reminders clogging up the sink, if hairs were thoughts and plumbing was being normal. Lance should know. Lance is a plumber. Well, a plumber in the sense that you and I are plumbers. This is his seventh collection of humorous and odd short stories, none of which have ever made the New York Times Best Seller List. If that in any way influences you to avoid giving it a look then it's probably for the best.
Lance Manion was not born a poor black child. That was Navin R. Johnson. Neither was he born to run, to be wild and the last thing he needs is to be born again. I'm certain his mother would have none of it. and pardon him if he got it right the first time (as did Dennis Miller who I must credit with that line).