Gut Rumbles
 

October 02, 2007

Properly aged, or fermented?

Originally published July 20, 2002

A frightening thought just occurred to me. If I actually generate a large audience for this page, I may have to clean up my act a bit, listen to my Mama and stop using all that fucking obscene language I sometimes apply in situations where I deem cuss-words necessary to get my true GUT RUMBLE across. I'll need to go straight and write for MY AUDIENCE instead of for me.

Naw... ain't gonna happen. What you read here are the unvarnished, freshly-hatched thoughts that fly from my imagination like a frightened covey of quail going airborne into a clear sky from the brush. I don't know where the rumbles come from and I seldom know where they're going to go, but what you see here is the way I do it. I don't believe that I could change if I tried. (That's a goddam lie! This asshole was an advertising copywriter once upon a time. He can whore any way you demand---ed)

Don't listen to the editor. He drinks a bottle of Scotch for lunch every day, the reeling bastard, and he doesn't understand what a highly-sensitive life-form I have evolved into since starting this blog. He remembers the OLD ME, if he can remember what he did with his car keys five minutes ago. The NEW ME is different.

I used to be raw moonshine. I am fine, aged wine today.

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