Touring the sewers of Paris, I came to realize that one man’s seepage is another rat’s dream – a simple dream for sure, but a dream nonetheless. Who is to say that my dreams of being the world’s best caber tosser, kilt-clad and tossing off at a frantic, frenetic, furious pace, while using an Anne Valérie Hash cummerbund as a weight belt, is any less meaningful than Jonas Salk’s quest to rid the world of polio? No one. Not even the kid down the block -- Rotisserie Mike, I call him – pinned inside his new fangled iron lung. You know: that new stainless model with the auto spin feature. If you ask me, stainless steel reeks of ostentation, not to mention pee. He should have opted for the clean simplicity of Lexan. To add a touch of glass and class, a tasteful string of Christmas tree lights, secured around the opening at his neck, would have been sufficient to show the world his true colors.

But I digress...