August 20, 1999

The greatest weakness of most humans is their hesitancy to tell others
how much they love them while they're alive.

— O.A. Battista

(From the Infamous "Lexicon of Love")

FLATULENCE (flach-u-lens) n. —
Female: An embarrassing by-product of digestion.
Male: An endless source of entertainment, self-expression and male bonding.

(by the infamous Unknown Author unless otherwise noted)

If Bill Gates had a dime for every time a Windows box crashed... Oh, wait a minute, he already does.

ZenCrafters: Total Enlightenment in about an hour

If God had wanted us to vote, he would have given us candidates. — Jay Leno

You watch a talk show recently? They're doing one next month on a normal, happy heterosexual couple, assuming they can find one. — Ralph Noble

When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part. — George Bernard Shaw

Marriage is the only war in which you sleep with the enemy.

Why get married and make one man miserable when I can stay single and make thousands miserable? — Carrie Snow

I tried phone sex once, but the holes were too small.

We have new advice as to what motivated man to walk upright: to free his hands for masturbation. — Jane Wagner

When authorities warn you of the sinfulness of sex, there is an important lesson to be learned. Do not have sex with the authorities. — Matt Groening

There are easier things in life than finding a good man... like nailing jello to a tree, for instance.

Two people in every one is schizophrenic.


Copyright © 1999, Chris White


Don't give up when you still have something to give. Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying. Of course if you keep trying after countless failures you are a moron.


--== BENT NEWS ==--

Copyright © 1999, by SodaMail

BENT QUOTE — "I know my mail is delivered on time. I assume everyone else's is also." — Loew's Corp. president Preston Robert Tisch, on his appointment as Postmaster General

BENT WEBSITE — The Internet Conspiracy Generator. All you have to do is hit 'Generate a New Theory' and you're on your way to the latest Tabloid Headline. My try at it came up with: "It is rumored that Fidel Castro was seen at the book depository just before the UFO sighting while receiving a case of magic bullets implicating involvement in a sinister scheme designed to break into Oprah's book club."
The Internet Conspiracy Generator

BENT STATISTIC — Number of Americans who injure themselves annually on their ironing boards (not the iron, the board): 2,000
— I gave up ironing my clothes the minute I read this...

— Number of Americans who injure themselves annually on musical instruments: 8,000
— That's it, I'm quitting those piano lessons, besides my instructor always teased me about my clothes always being wrinkled...

(Sunnyside, Wash.) — Dixie Lyczewski has turned off the flashing strobe light, but the 7 foot-tall scarlet "A"in her front yard will stay. The yard display is a result of a dispute between Mrs. Lyczewski and her husband, Tim. They separated last August after 26 years of marriage. Their 20-year-old daughter, Tarah, built the display using plastic irrigation pipe wrapped in red garlands three months ago. It's shaped like the letter "A," as in "adultery." She said she got the idea from Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter after her father began dating and moved in with another woman before her parents' divorce was final. Lyczewski said he is frustrated about display, but a restraining order prevents him from getting a close look at it. (USA Today)
— Lucky Tarah ran out of pipe...

[Thanks to John — John Garison's Home Page]


A week after their marriage, the newlyweds paid a visit to their doctor. "I can't figure it out Doc, my testicles are turning blue," the husband complained.

The doctor examined him and confirmed the unusual condition. He asked the blonde wife, "Are you using the diaphragm I prescribed?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And what kind of jelly are you using?" the doctor then asked.

"Grape," she said.

(This Week's Selected Excerpts from
"Women Are from Bras, Men Are from Penus" —
A Survival Guide for Bypassing Communication
and Getting Even in Your Relationship)

Penus is just the opposite of bras.

Lots gets done on Penus. The planet is full of power tools, computers, and equipment. Penusians also save small boxes of nuts, bolts, screws, nails, and motor parts that are too old and rusty to use, but too handy to throw out. At least half the planet is covered with these small boxes of motor parts.

Penusians experience fulfillment through success and accomplishment such as spelling their name in the snow while peeing, or peeking under a woman's skirt without getting caught. Their sense of self is defined by their ability to achieve results — like catching a three-inch minnow with an $850 fishing lure. They value power, competency, efficiency, and achievement, which is why many spend their entire day farting on the couch drinking beer.

Penus is a rugged planet. Millions of years ago the entire planet was covered with lush rain forest, though that growth has receded to the point where today there are just scattered clumps of weeds which they let grow to give the appearance of vegetation. There's one tall thin peak on the planet, though when you get close, it's not as big as you thought it was. Perfectly spherical years ago, the planet now bulges severely at the equator. Known for its volcanic activity, there are thousands of caverns that noisily belch hot gasses that are toxic and smelly.

On Penus toilet seats stay up, milk is solid, and shower curtains have their own eco-system. Sporting events are very popular and include Olympic Burping, Marathon Crotch Adjusting, and the Dilapidated Underwear Pageant. The phrase "pull my finger" is legend. Competition is keen and there's always some kind of contest going on, such as who can hit the longest golf ball, who can score the most home runs, or who can make the loudest underarm sounds with their hands.

Appearance is also important to a Penusian, and he will often arrive 45 minutes late to work because he was trying to get the dimple right in his tie. Penusians own about 10 suits, though they are all charcoal gray.

Hair loss is a major concern to Penusians and they will get hair from any place they can. Whether it comes out of their sideburns, their nose, or their ears, they will let it grow and then flip it over their head. This is called the "swoop method" which has the attractiveness of a man in a convertible with a mop on his head driving 100 miles an hour during a hurricane. Another fashionable trend is to tack what little hair he has to his head with wallpaper paste, spray painting any remaining scalp that shows. This creates a look that is as youthful and debonair as Bela Lugosi looked in Dracula.

NEXT WEEK: How to Get a Man to Do What You Want


Here is the much requested Nice Guy Test from "Nice Guys Don't Get Laid" by Marcus Pierce Meleton, Jr. (Copyright © 1993, by Sharkbait Press)

1. How do you typically look when you arrive to pick up your date?

  1. I wear my church clothes
  2. I like to dress up. Sometimes I bring a small present or flowers.
  3. I dress casually unless I am very impressed with the woman
  4. I'm late, dress as I want, and if I bring anything it's a sixpack of beer
  5. I take a knife

2. "Women are special." Is this statement true?

  1. Yes, but they scare me
  2. Most always
  3. Sometimes
  4. One or two, but only temporarily until I have my way with them. And I will have my way with them.
  5. Only when tied and gagged

3. Generally, when a girl cancels out of a date...

  1. NOT APPLICABLE. I don't get the date in the first place
  2. I get a weak excuse if I get one at all
  3. She says she is sorry and would like to make it another time
  4. She cries and begs for forgiveness. The only excuse I'll accept is death — hers.
  5. She moves, changes her name, and gets plastic surgery

4. When I meet a girl, I...

  1. Talk about mother
  2. Want to get to know her, find out who she is, and what she does
  3. Want to get to know her, but only if she is worth it
  4. I see a conquest in the making
  5. Usually scare them off

5. I think women are...

  1. Like dear old mother
  2. Should be put on a pedestal
  3. Fantastic sometimes
  4. Good for only one thing
  5. The scourge of the earth

6. A girl cancels a date, gives a feeble excuse, and in the process, blows your weekend.

  1. You cry
  2. You assume she told the truth and wanted to go with you
  3. You are disappointed but might try again
  4. It never occurs. If it did, there are others waiting in the aisles.
  5. You set dynamite to her house/apartment

7. On Valentine's Day...

  1. I get a card from Mom
  2. I send cards, but receive few
  3. I get some cards and send a few
  4. I get a lot of cards and read only the ones I want. I send no cards unless it scores points I can collect on later.
  5. I don't get any cards and I blame all women for it

8. I get dates...

  1. Through Mother
  2. Through a great deal of effort, including groveling and expensive offerings
  3. Easily some times and hard other times. My success runs hot and cold.
  4. Without effort. Many times they ask me.
  5. If I pay for them to go. Sometimes that just isn't enough.

9. When I am at a bar...

  1. I don't go to bars
  2. I rarely get anywhere with women
  3. I occasionally get a phone number
  4. I score frequently
  5. I drink till I pass out. Of course, this is only if they let me in.

10. A girl I date for a long time quits seeing me because...

  1. I am boring
  2. I don't know why, many times it is for someone else
  3. We fight too much
  4. I told her to get lost, or she caught me fooling around
  5. I threatened her life

11. When I settle down...

  1. I want someone to help me tie my shoes and dress me
  2. I want to get married and live like Ozzie and Harriet with lots of kids
  3. I might want to get married. Kids are a maybe.
  4. I'll settle down when I am dead and buried
  5. I can't settle down. The world is after me.

12. Marriage...

  1. Is for grownups
  2. Is a pleasant way to spend a life
  3. Might be nice
  4. Is a mistake unless she is rich and beautiful and doesn't mind when I fool around
  5. Is impossible

13. If I ever got married I would...

  1. Have to have Mother's approval
  2. Be forever faithful
  3. Be faithful, maybe
  4. Be faithful at least the first week, or until the first opportunity to score, which ever comes first
  5. Lock her in a closet to keep her away from other men

14. I get laid...

  1. What does "getting laid" mean?
  2. At least once every two years, sometimes
  3. A few times a year
  4. I'm not sure how many times, but it's somewhere between 365 times a year and whatever my hero Wilt Chamberlain says is his yearly average
  5. Never. But I get screwed a lot.

15. Look at your charge card bills. Those related to women are...

  1. Mostly things I get for my mom
  2. For dinners, flowers, presents, plays, etc.
  3. For sports events, dinner, concerts, occasionally flowers
  4. I never pay. If I do it is to buy beer or tickets to professional wrestling or a tractor pull. Look on my date's credit card bill to see the places I take her.
  5. For semi-automatic weapons

Take your test results and grade it by giving each "A" answer 0 points, 1 point for each "B" answer, and so on up to 4 points for each answer "E". Total your score and refer to the five groupings below:

0-8 — MAMA'S BOY

Move back home, if you aren't there already. You are looking for a girl just like the girl who married dear old dad. Women like that don't exist, and if they do, they don't have any interest in you.

If a Mama's boy gets married, it is usually to a husband beater. They are very rare and hopeless cases.

If you are a woman and like this type of man, they are an easy kill. They are great if you want someone to control or abuse, or you want someone who can not possibly fool around on you. It is preferable that he has money or stands to gain from an inheritance. The negative side is that you will have to fight with his mother (who probably lives with you) over him, listen to his elephant jokes, and watch him read his subscription to "Mad" Magazine.

Famous examples: Felix Unger in the Odd couple and Walter Mitty

9-22 — MR. NICE GUY

You poor sap. You are everything a girl thinks she wants but not what she is attracted to. Women chew you up and spit you out. You never get laid.

If you are a woman and a guy you date rates as this type, you have it made. The problem is there is no thrill of victory and little danger of loss that can keep him interesting. If you have a conscience, you feel bad when you inevitably dump him.

Famous examples: ROSS, Harry Connick, Jr. (his image anyway), Bobby Ewing in Dallas, Tom Selleck, and Joel from Risky Business.

23-37 — MR. AVERAGE

Sometimes you are Mr. Nice Guy, and sometimes you aren't. It depends on the woman in question. For men of this type, It means that you probably want what you probably can't get.

For women, if he is strongly attracted to you, he will do anything for you and behaves like Mr. Nice guy. If he is not attracted to you, he acts like Mr. Abuse.

Famous examples: Burt Reynolds, Bruce Springstein, Chandler?, Joey?

38-52 — MR. ABUSE

Mr. Abuse is the most successful with women. He is the one who gives the least and gets the most. Rampant outbreaks of VD can usually be controlled from this source. Cure him, and you have cured the problem.

For women who seek such a man, he will ruin you, but the thrill of the chase, the desire to win over and conquer him intrigues you and makes your life worth living.

Famous examples: Wilt Chamberlain, Mike Tyson, J.R. Ewing, John Derek, James Dean, Marlon Brando, Rob Lowe, Mickey O'Rourke, Jim Morrison, Pablo Piccasso, and Teddy Kennedy.

53-60 — MR. PSYCHO

You should be in Jail.

If you are a woman and this man comes to your home, pull out your .44 magnum, open the door, and let him make your day. Mr. Psycho is as rare as Mama's boy. If you are attracted to such a man, seek a Doctor's help

Famous examples: John Hinkley, Jr., Woody Allen, Richard Speck, David Koresh, Richard Ramirez, and Ted Bundy.


12. CEO stops by to use your computer because his electricity's been turned off again.

11. Company made solely up of former AARP executives.

10. Merrill Lynch just downgraded the stock from "Sell" to "Tax Write-Off."

9. Your profits? 404 — Not Found


7. Their big idea: eHaircuts

6. Their Lead Programmer is reasonably attractive & has 20/20 vision.

5. IPO consists of 12 shares and a free CD and is underwritten by MC Hammer.

4. At shareholder meeting you're asked to wear a mouse pad as a name tag.

3. In "Pirates of Silicon Valley", company CEO was played by that "Ernest" guy.

2. Their price-to-earnings ratio is higher than Marion Barry in a DEA evidence room.

     and's Number 1 Sign You've Invested in a Bad Internet Company...

1. Good: Team of young, enthusiastic go-getters;
Bad: IPO's financial goal was $57.45 to "repay Tommy's mom."

The Top 5 List
Copyright © 2000, by Chris White


Three Italian nuns die and go to heaven, where they are met at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter. He says, "Ladies, you all led such wonderful lives, that I'm granting you six months to go back to Earth and be anyone you want."

The first nun says, "I want-a to be Sophia Loren" and she's gone.

The second says, "I want-a to be Madonna" and she's gone.

The third says, "I want-a to be Sara Pipalini."

St. Peter looks perplexed. "Who?" he says.

"Sara Pipalini" replies the nun.

St. Peter shakes his head and says "I'm sorry but that name just doesn't ring a bell."

The nun then takes a newspaper out of her habit and hands it to St. Peter. He reads the paper and starts laughing. He hands it back to her and says, "No Sister, this says 'Sahara Pipeline laid by 500 men in 7 days' !"


A woman went to the police station with her next-door neighbor to report that her husband was missing. The policeman asked for a description. She said, "He's 35 years old, 6 foot 4, had dark eyes, dark wavy hair, an athletic build, weighs 185 pounds, is soft-spoken, and is good to the children."

The next-door neighbor protested, "Your husband is 5 foot 4, chubby, bald, has a big mouth, and is mean to your children."

The wife replied, "Yes, but who the hell wants *him* back?"


"Your Honor, my wife is just being ridiculous. Most women would love to have a husband who still believes in chivalry and I was only opening the door for her out of chivalry."

"Mr. Smith," replied the judge, "I am granting the divorce. I cannot believe chivalry was your motivation while driving 60 mph."


An elderly couple were celebrating their 50th anniversary. A young man, about to get married, decided to ask the old couple the Secret of their Success. Said the elderly man, "Young man, in my house, I make all of the big decisions and leave all of the trivial ones to my wife". After a meaningful pause, he continued, "I decide what is to be done to reform Welfare, how to stop the war in the Balkans, what is wrong with NASA and how to set it right, etc. She decides the trivia like, what I am going to wear to work, how much money I get to spend..."


"I was married 3 times" explained the man to a newly discovered drinking partner, "and I'll never marry again. My first 2 wives died of eating poison mushrooms and my 3rd wife died of a fractured skull."

"That's a shame," said his friend , "How did it happen?"

"She wouldn't eat the mushrooms."


Cal was putting flowers on his Grandmother's grave when he noticed a very distraught man in front of a tombstone several yards away. The man was on his knees, hands tightly clasped in front of him, rocking back and forth, head tilted upward to heaven, tears streaming down his cheeks, moaning softly, "Why did you die? Why did you die?" Over and over again.

Cal was overcome with emotion at the sight and went over to the poor man to try and console him. "Why did you die? Why did you die?" Again and again. Cal gently put his arm around the man and half whispered to him, "My Grandmother is buried just over there, is a loved one of yours buried here?"

"No," sniffled the man, "It's my wife's first husband."

by Cynthia Heimel

"What size bra do you wear?" was the instant message I got from some guy on America Online. I thought, What the hell? and told him. "Are you horny?" he asked next. I wanted to say, "Yes, oh, yes, give it to me, big fellow," but I couldn't, not even for science, because I had to go throw up...

It's a jungle out there on the big online services. Horny Cops, Lonely Married Buxom Babes, and Submissive Dermatologists start chat rooms and get oh-so down and dirty. Today I was in a vanilla-named chat room where women were responding to questions about ice inserted into their private parts. They all loved it! They couldn't get enough of ice-cube mania! Naturally, these people were either (a) not women, (b) lying, or probably (c) both. At one point, I went into Jewish Singles. It was just as annoying as Hot-Tub Lawyers. But a few minutes later, I received some instant messages from "Duppypuppy," who told me I must hate being Jewish, what with Jews killing Jesus and being such whiners and all.

And that I'd be better off as a bar of soap, or perhaps a lamp shade.

So then my blood froze, and I spent a good 45 minutes clicking around looking for a complaints department, and meanwhile calling AOL technical support. I finally got through, and the guy was sufficiently outraged and told me to go to keyword guidepager — and I did, and the screen froze, which is just so typical.

And yet, I conclude that going online is, even for actual as opposed to virtual women, the best place in the world to find romance.

What else are we supposed to do? Go to singles bars and have smarm-guys breathe hot beer-breath in our faces? Walk around town, sticking out our legs and tripping any cute guy we see? Go to church socials?

Work used to be a good place. At work you could get to know the real guy, not the doppelgδnger he drags out when he goes on dates. After months and months of working shoulder to shoulder, you know if a fellow is childish or stodgy, generous or stingy, whether he hates Anne Rice as much as you do. But the pesky specter of sexual harassment suits has played havoc with even innocent coworker commingling.

When I was first online, I met nobody. Well, OK, people who turned into long-lasting friends. Actually, only one. But what a friend he is — he will connect my new VCR and everything. I fixed him up with a friend of mine, and they are now engaged. But no romance for me personally. Then I found out about the Well.

What a maniacal place. The Well was one of the first online hangouts, a bulletin board full of testy journalists, cranky computer geeks, tormented poets, nasty novelists, and all manner of assorted lunatics. On the Well you must keep your wits about you at all times, or you will be mocked. Making one fishy remark can cause flame-fests that last for weeks, months, forever.

Have you ever been to a "dog park" and seen two dogs go at each other, and then suddenly every dog in the park dashes madly to join in? And barking mania ensues, and some dog gets a ripped ear, and all the dogs slink sheepishly away? That would be your basic dynamic of the Well, but with humans running from topics such as "Dog Rescue" in the Pets conference to pile on in the "Anne Rice on Kafka" topic, where, in just a few days, there were 821 posts, and the epithets "moronic jackoff", "vinegar tits", "ignorant piece of shit," and "old hyena" were bandied about with abandon. It really is an awful place. I love it so.

The second I got on the Well, I started flirting. There was none of the "How big are your tits?" AOL version of dialogue, since nobody is anonymous. Well flirting is done with wit, puns, and obsessive nihilism. (It is also done with a great deal of paranoia, ever since the affair of News1290, whence three Well chicks found out they were all being courted by, and lending money to, the same guy.)

Some lawyer started flirting back with me. Flirt, flirt, flirt-phone call, online dialogues, flirt, phone call. Next thing I knew, we met live and became an item.

Finally! A smart guy! OK, he had cats, to which I am violently allergic, and he lived an hour's plane ride away — but, sue me, I'm fond of IQ points.

So I was kinda happy. Vaguely, occasionally happy. OK, once in a while this guy had a temper. Maybe he screamed a little. Oh, perhaps a bit self-involved. But we had fun. The Well was monitoring us. It was absolutely like a small village, where even the substitute postmaster knows all about your carbuncle.

Plus, I made many friends. It was a social life. I ignored all the e-mail letters telling me my boyfriend was a scumbag. I knew him better. Sometimes I went to parties where Well people would push me up against the wall and shout, "Stop going out with him, NOW!" But I figured they were just jealous.

When things occasionally got bad with me and my guy, I'd call Woodrow, the hilarious maniac who started the Anne Rice topic. He was a real pal and would be happy to listen to me bleating until four in the morning. We were soul mates, partners in hilarity. Too bad that from the way he described himself, I pictured a fat guy with a pinhead, not all that madly appealing.

Eventually, the lawyer guy was so utterly horrible that I took two Valium to stop myself from dissolving into tears. I decided, "Screw this online romance, it's just as horrible as real life!" So I called Woodrow, stoned out of my head, and we decided to meet and go on a huge used-bookstore binge to cheer me up.

When I arrived at the bookstore, there was only one guy in the parking lot, and he was gorgeous. No, more than gorgeous. He was the physical embodiment of the man I have been searching for my whole life. "Oh, there you are, finally," I almost said out loud. Woodrow!

We wandered, Woodrow and I, through the bookstore. Then we went for coffee. Then we took a drive. Then we took a walk. Then a drive. Then we went for dinner. Then for a drive.

We were married a month later.

And right now, I am sitting at my computer, and Woodrow, whose real name is Abe Opincar and who is a brilliant writer and the sweetest fellow alive, is sitting at his, and we are starting a really good flame-fest.

If one is looking for love on the Internet, one must perform a more complex search than infesting chat rooms. Go to bulletin boards about dogs, or pottery, or whatever makes you drool. Point and click and narrow things down, down, down, until your one, true Internet sweetheart is revealed.

Woodrow's mother, who was recently widowed, came to visit us last week. We signed her on to AOL as "Grief Gal." She was online for about 30 seconds when she got an instant message:

"How big are your tits?"

"Who is that?" she shrieked.


10. Has begun chasing oncoming cars.

9. Fluffy stops leaving dead mice on doormat, starts leaving Marilyn Manson CDs.

8. Keeps trying to throw himself under that Chuck Wagon.

7. "Yo quiero Prozac."

6. Your fish purchases a rope and a helium balloon.

5. Rover used to be so energetic, but now he just stands there and lets the Frisbee bounce off the side of his head.

4. Keeps running at the electric fence with the sprinkler in his mouth.

3. Obligingly thrusts at your leg for a few seconds and then wanders off to watch TV.

2. He lies on his back in the gerbil wheel for hours at a time, smoking cigarettes and staring at the top of his cage.

     and's Number 1 Sign Your Pet is Depressed...

1. Three words: "Ruck Roo, Reorge."

The Top 5 List
Copyright © 2000, by Chris White

[Thanks to Brad — Brad's Keimach's Home Page]

Three best friends are at the corner bar on a Friday night as usual. One of them is Italian, one black and one Jewish. They are sitting around drinking some beers, and they make a wager. They bet who can make love to their wife and make her scream the longest. They agree to return next week and compare.

Next week they all arrive at the bar at the usual time with smiles on their faces. The Italian guy can't control himself, he says, "I definitely won. I took my wife out to dinner, I bought her roses, I took her home and made love to her and she screamed for an hour,"

The black guy says, "Man, I got you beat. I cooked dinner for my wife, and for desert, I poured honey all over her and made love to her and she screamed for two hours."

The Jewish guy states, "I got you both beat. I made love to my wife for 3 minutes, pulled out, wiped my schmeckle on the curtain and she's still screaming."


• Spouse uses your toothbrush to scrub tile grout

• Candlelight dinners now illuminated by sticks of dynamite

• Spouse is not moaning while making love but moaning about it

• The only thigh you see on your anniversary is at KFC

• E-mailing jokes is now your sole source of sexual gratification

• Morning breath no longer gives you that same thrill

• Husband's suggestions to "try swinging" grow alarmingly frequent

• Husband wants to adopt 17-year-old waitress from Hooter's

• Your spouse's favorite sexual position is now next door

• A romantic Saturday night at home is now Dr. Quinn on TV

• Wife keeping list of things she'll do after you're dead

• "Darling I'm home," followed by, "Could you be more specific?"

• Request for sex now gets you $20 and a map of downtown

• Wife constantly asks, "Why can't you be like [former boyfriend]?"

• Phone bill reveals late night phone calls to "900" numbers

• Every morning you have to retrieve your penis from the lawn


Eternal nothingness is fine if you happen to be dressed for it.

Don't knock masturbation — it's sex with someone I love.

Sex alleviates tension. Love causes it.

To *you* I'm an atheist; to God, I'm the Loyal Opposition.

I'd call him a sadistic, hippophilic necrophile, but that would be beating a dead horse.

I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying.

The difference between sex and death is that with death you can do it alone and no one is going to make fun of you.

I do not believe in an afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear.

Is sex dirty? Only if it's done right.

Death is one of the few things that can be done as easily lying down.

It's not that I'm afraid to die. I just don't want to be there when it happens.

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Love is about surrender -- of one's heart, soul, mind, and body... The bonding of two souls... dancing... intertwining... becoming whole... complete... one... What else matters?

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