What is normal looking?

Can you identify these people?
Clue: They are infamous

Why are we here?

A 1999 gallop poll indicated that 87% believed God played a role in our exsistence.
[http://www.religioustolerance.org/ev_publi.htm]

Why is it that the vast majority of Americans believe God played some part in the creation of life? Perhaps the reasons have less to do with ideology and more to do with ones sense of purpose. Is it better to believe in an imperfect something than an absolute nothing? For if God did not play a role in our creation and we are just by products of happen stance, then what is the point of our existence? I submit that ones beliefs in the origins of life are inexplicably tied to ones hopes for the future.

The downside of growing up

The warm breeze of her fluttering wings
Left a smile upon my face
And for a fragment of time
Her world was mine

Enchanted children
Riding a spiraled staircase
Stars held to the ground
Wrapped in nets of lace
Row upon row of swings that never came down
And ice castles dripping into space

Questioning the validity
Of such unnatural things
I closed my eyes to see what should be
Sighing like a child whose time was overdue
She said, “You silly boy, this simply won’t do
Wish upon wish
Hope upon hope
I’m afraid I’m too late
The man has grown up.”

35% people

Hey what’s up?
I always say “Not much. How bout you?”
Ain’t never gonna let you get close
My defenses are a lethal does

We go to parties
Break sum hearts
Yours, hers, but never mine

See the pretty ladies standing in a row
Skin tight Gucci
Fishnet stockings
Lips that say slap me

Have a little drink
Have a little smoke
Looking for some savage sex
The kind that hurts the best
Dancing thigh to crouch
Whisper some obscenities
Gabardine is getting wet
Tell you about my insecurities

Oil is warm
How do you feel?
Slip out of those cloths
But leave on the heels
Into my room
Lock the door
Let me fuck you all across the floor

Our bodies entwine
Me into yours
Yours into mine
The sweat of your body covers me
Passion and cinnamon fill the air
You scratch my back
I pull your hair
You like what I’m giving
Even more when you say “Please baby please”
Now you best be leaving
You can’t have what you can’t see
Cuz my heart is never given
Only lent
Up to about thirty-five percent.

Opening few sentences of my life story

What lies between point A and point B? In mathematics the answers are infinite. In life, it is more things than you can imagine. I often marvel at the series of events that mark the line that is my life. I was born May 24,1962 in University of San Francisco hospital. My memories of childhood begin at about age five. San Francisco was my city, but my home was a bunker in the Sunnydale Housing Project. Sunnydale was one of San Francisco’s public housing projects. It was a crime and drug infested place. The majority of folks living there were on Welfare, including my family. Both of my parents were socially dysfunctional and lived a perpetual stupor brought on by the daily consumption of a gallon of wine.